Damn. It's been a while. I've moved (both RT and VT), so I'm pretty sure this project is now closed. Email me: centerstage77@yahoo.com. We'll do lunch (or at least pass on my new site). Adieu (...adieu, to yieu and yieu and yieu... OR, alternately: ...my friends. Thus Thisbe ends. ::stabs self vigorously and, after a prolonged struggle, (finally) dies::)!

Entering the final stages of preparation:

Eek. I've gotta pack up my computer. Somehow this is more monumental than the other boxes sitting on the floor, not yet duct-taped in case I've forgotten anything (more than likely). One's full of CDs and my Thomas Kinkade prints, one's labeled "PJs" 'cause I didn't feel like displaying "underwear" to God and everybody, there's a container bigger than what I packed all of my school supplies in, containing everything from shampoo to sponge rollers to jewelry, across which is scrawled "makeup" - as my little girly-girl joke. I've managed to fit photos, phone numbers, email addresses, and old yearbooks into one marked "People". But jeez... my *computer!*

So this will be the last from me for at least a few days. I'll be reconnected soon up there, but there may be a few bugs to work out 'n such, so be patient. 'Bye!

Jesus tapdancing CHRIST! Creating an address book out of whole cloth is hard work. I've realized how many people I have in my life. That's 35 in the collective email, 54 on the buddy list (admittedly, some of those are multiple screen names per person), far too many in the reallive little black book. And how many of their birthdays I don't know. Sheesh.

Look, my cat is sitting on my laptop. (That's right, the computer.) Just sitting like a statue, looking at me. No, wait - here she goes... There! She's stuck her hind paw into her ear. I swear, if weirdness were an Olympic event...

Oh. So *that's* why it's cold in here. My window's still open. Moron.

OK, I think it's time to get back to blogging about random everyday leaving-for-school-really-soon trivia. Like staying up 'til four packing two-thirds of my casual wardrobe and convincing myself to leave the four-layer petticoat (that can stand up by itself!). And having Jockette in my bedroom (she was helping me with the luggage thing) and watching her face get so terrified, even as I'm on the opposite side of the bed. ::snicker:: StalkerGuy getting fed up with me being a ruthless tease, thinking about my "summer" homework assignment that I got in the mail Monday, running from scary QueenV at work. Then there's returning Xena's books to her and adding some of what used to be my own. Trying to find a way to hook up with old friends before I leave. Listening to the general manager quote showtunes in ordinary conversation. Learning when I'm hungry. Not taking my meds. And spending way too much on my last decent Japanese dinner for a while.

I think it's gonna be okay.

Something from Jockette:

Silence
by Amy Leonard

An eerie silence hangs over us. An unbreakable, unending, overpowering silence that follows us relentlessly and hides in every corner and behind every turn in America today.
The looks are somber and lost, the faces tell a thousand stories, and behind everyone's eyes is a certain pain, for those we lost, for those we could have, for the ones we don't know about yet, and for those we didn't even know. There's no one who hasn't been touched somehow by this, only those who haven't been hit by it yet.
We are lost, struggling to go on, looking for a way back to normality, but realizing that can never be again. We stumble for something to do, some way to help, to ease the pain, but mainly to ease our own pain, sadness, and uncertainty.
Monday we went to sleep safe and sound in our beds, Tuesday we woke up to find those beds weren't so safe, and today and every day from now on we must wake up knowing that and living with the horrors of what we saw Tuesday, September 11. There's no war to fight or cause to pick up, just a deep feeling of uneasiness, and a nameless faceless villain that can strike at any time and that we can't stop.
A silence that fills us up, as we check e-mails, cell phones, wait on edge for phones to ring, and sit glued to coverage waiting for answers that no one has, and searching for a way to go on.

Random thoughts, delayed:

(This is Remy, so black humor is expected)

1) This is really gonna fuck up Green's birthday.

2) Now aren't we glad I didn't get accepted to NYU?

3) Well, we're gonna have some interesting episodes of The West Wing.

Well, the crying jags hit this morning. I was looking through blogs, reading eyewitness accounts of the tragedy by people I *know*, and people it seems I know through their daily babble. And I just lost it. The sheer *numbers* stagger me - I learned that more people work in the World Trade Center than live in my hometown. The staff alone, 150 times my graduating class. 3 football fields high of people; glass and concrete and people, with lives and families and pets and dinner plans and stockings with runs and no bigger worries than what to do about little Jimmy's soccer game Wednesday and whether this shade of blue is flattering.

And then, this. My generation's Kennedy assassination, Pearl Harbor. It's inconceivable that something of this magnitude and horror could occur just a week before I'm supposed to head off into my new beginning. It shatters the false safety I've been taught to believe in. The world, as it's never been to me or so many others before, is a scary place. And that, I think, is the saddest part.

I am grateful for the simple things: Chapstick brand, smooth stacks of quarters, hash-browned potatoes cooked just right, sunlight, hugs, stuffed animals, falling asleep in the early afternoon next to my best friend, a blue gumball, comfortable silences, life and love (at once the simplest and yet most complex of all the things in the world). Somehow they make up for the America's Funniest Home Videos theme song that's been playing greasily in my head since early this morning.

::sings softly, chillingly on pitch:: America, America, this is you.

And EvEl was already at school in Ohio. This is a relief.

Thank you so much, those of you who've asked after me or my friends. It really is appreciated. A small bit of comfort in this... madness.

Oh, thank God. LEL's all right. Shaken as hell, but physically undamaged. I was so worried...

Cupcake, who reminds me so much of LEL, greeted me today with a big smile and a cheery hello, and I started to smile back at her and then I just froze. It was too weird. And it hurt.

"Remain calm. The government has a plan to continue operating efficiently." And for this I should be thankful? It would be almost laughable, if it weren't so incredibly awful. The thing is, I/we've just got to trust in that. There's really nothing else to do.

I don't know whether EvEl has left for college yet; I can only hope that LEL was nowhere near. There are others, of course, but these are foremost in my mind. LEL's website is down, and it would be monumentally stupid to call. Who knows?

Shell-shock. Delayed reaction. Controlled response. All terms to describe the phenomenon. And still it feels like emptiness, feverish groggy disbelief. The pain and terror and emotion will come later. And what else will crumble as it explodes in flame?

Why are people this horrible?

Dude. As countless punks, skaters, druggies, and wannabes have so eloquently put it: fuck this shit. My mother felt compelled to wake me up at the ungodly hour of seven thirty this morning and rant at me to clean the living room, kitchen, bathroom, etc. She's just lucky I went to bed before ten last night so that I was actually capable of *being* conscious that early. This is why I hate being woken - it seems like every single time I can remember, at home, with or without the alarm clock, it means a loud voice and perhaps a pair of rough hands invading my quiet, safe space to shake me into hell. I react so violently around others, too. Some of 'em have learned how to avoid it; some simply take the phenomenon in stride. It's a shame.

In other news: I attended Twinkle's going-away party last night. Army theme; I somehow reconciled dogtags with the new rainbow ring she gave me. Her little ones are *so* adorable! (Yes, Jockette, I know. I'm gonna end up with a dozen (this for Verdon) "knee-highs". But these were blonde!) We've got some smashing Polaroids, the most notable being of Mango with his arms around me, my leg wrapped around his hips, him pointing to me, and saying to the camera, "It's a lesbian! A real, live lesbian!" Crazy guy, but fun.

I'm somewhat better, but I had a busy day. Brunch w/ Verdon and The Bun; crashing choir at the middle school; swapping life stories on the playground; shopping downtown w/ Twinkle; quick drop-in to former English teachers; Twink's party; a ride in Red's brother's truck (illegal but fun - aren't most things?), etc. Early to bed, early to rise makes this girl cranky, selfish, and dead. Fuck, now I'm sneezing. It's gonna be a looooooonnnng day...