Wednesday, February 22, 2006
Fault lines and Fissures
I’m the girl that laughs at funerals. I can’t help it. There is something so terrifying about death and all its surrounding aura that I start laughing. It’s not the I’m stoned and you just fell down laugh, it’s the hysterical oh god no someone save me laugh.
The other thing is that all big disease scare me. I mean if you’ve got something that could be bad, and you’re my best friend, I will do everything in my power to completely forget that it exists and that you are unwell. Like him. I always forget, and then I remember and it’s sad and terrifying and worrying. If you know me, you know I don’t do sad, terrifying or worrying. You want the truth? I just can’t handle the truth.
The problem is, and I’ve been skirting the issue, Deb. I like her, and I think that if I were in Houston I would drink with her and we would have a laugh and we would be all cracking jokes about what other people are wearing. We would be the funniest girls in the room. But she’s sick, everyone knows this by now. Whereas I use to read her blog multiple times a day, I now have to force myself to check only once a week or so. Not because I don’t like what she’s writing but because I can’t pretend that she’s not sick. It’s right there all the time. And I get a little teary eyed and I can’t cry because them I am sad, and we all know, I don’t do sad. Not functionally anyway. Some people are all good and deal and sad is just of their repertoire. Me, I get all confused and disorientated and strangers ask me if things are all right and I have to ask for directions home.
I suck, I know. I’ve sent books and pretty things (which are currently being stored elsewhere but the storer knows she has them and will be getting on it soon…right?), and I donated blood in her name when I was last in Houston. Giving blood is pretty easy (unless you’re her and then you get all cracked out and the lab tech starts calling you mama) * for some reason this link REFUSES to work, go here and check out Friday 20 January 2006* so that was a gimme. It’s just that every time I resolved to become a daily visitor and be supportive and part of the good will, I get freaked out and I am afraid I will say something like the time I was walking though a building at school and happened upon a blind man (as you do) and he was clearly trying to get out of the building. So I asked, “Are you looking for the door?” LOOKING…he’s fucking blind, he’s not looking for anything. Of course I immediately realized what I had just said and started giggling like a fucking hyena.
Please note, this is in my “Things to work on” Category. I’m totally going to work on it all. First I resolve to stop laughing at the handicapped. I am sure that will go a long way in sublimating my desire to laugh at all things that make me feel so completely uncomfortable.