Halloween Weekend in Baltimore

I was finally able to visit Westminster Hall Burying Ground and Catacombs, where Edgar Allan Poe is buried.  Every Halloween, Westminster Hall holds a celebration that allows visitors to tour the church, catacombs, and graveyard after dark.  This year it happened to be on Sunday, October 30th from 6 - 9pm and I was lucky enough to attend.

My friend, N, went with me and we stood in line for about an hour and a half before we were able to gain entrance.  I wasn't very impressed by the entertainment inside the church and we missed a lot of the other events (i.e. a reading of the Tell-Tale Heart in the Graveyard) while we were in line.  But occasionally an Edgar Allan Poe impersonator would entertain the people in line (he also gave a reading inside the hall).  The tour guides gave a lot of detailed information and entertaining stories about the residents.  I didn't realize that the church had been built after the fact, which is how the "catacombs" were created. I've driven by Poe's grave several times and I always note it to visitors, but I hadn't actually gone to the church or the site.

There was something very thrilling about being in the graveyard.  People were waiting in line while we roamed amongst the dead under the stars.  "Edgar" would walk around the graveyard, from time to time, and talk to people gawking at his grave.  It was a little bit spooky, a lot of fun, and absolutely perfect for Halloween.

Down

I've been trying to pull myself up and for the most part I'm doing very well.  Things have improved in the last few months and I feel like I am getting back to normal for the most part.  But this past week I've felt really sad and down.  I don't know if it's recent events or my own negative head space or the fact that it's almost pitch black when I get out of work or some combination thereof.  I just know that pretty much every day this past week I've been about three steps from crying.  Mostly a similar thought pattern takes me there, but I'm not 100% sure what has unearthed that particular strain. 

It just feels like a wave has come along and shifted the sand beneath me when I felt like I'd just gotten some solid footing.  It's okay, I always get back up again.  It's just annoying when I find myself knocked down with a mouth full of saltwater and another wave fast approaching.  But I'll get up and eventually ride one of those in to safety.

GMAT - Practice Test the First

According to the preliminary GMAT test I took on http://www.grockit.com/ this weekend, my projected score is between 550-650.  The actual score I received on this weekend's practice test was a 630.  Though, this was due, mostly, to my verbal and reading comprehension skills.  Out of a total 38 math questions, I got 9 correct.  It seems that I have forgotten everything from high school Algebra, Geometry and Pre-Calculus.  Yes, I transferred from a school that didn't start Geometry until 10th grade so I was somewhat behind my peers at my new school and never even got a whiff of a Trig textbook.

Taking this test, reminded me how much I'd forgotten.  There were things I used to use at my DTB job, like finding the area of a room so we could estimate how much to charge for carpet, etc.  But those things don't jump immediately to my mind.  And things like SAS (Side, Angle, Side) are familiar and I know I need them to help me solve a problem but I can't remember how or what it even means.  It makes me feel old and rusty, with just a little bit of stupid.

My sister said that the first practice test is supposed to make me feel this way.  That this is where I figure out how to improve for the actual test and that in a couple of months, after focusing on these problem areas, I will much better.  She also promised that the questions in the prep books are harder than the actual test.  I'm not sure how I feel about this, but I bought an entire workbook of GMAT "Quantitative" problems to help me.  I have $250 riding on this, not to mention possible B-school, I can't fuck it up now.

Side Note:  http://www.grockit.com/ seems to be a pretty cool site.  It helps people get ready for the SAT, GMAT, GRE, LSAT, AP Test, etc.  And it's at least one study resource that will let me work on things no matter where I am as long as I have a computer.  No need to lug all my books with me when I go to work or hang out at my dad's.  It also keeps track of my work and lets me know my strengths and weaknesses so I can work effectively.  I was also pleased to learn that for every subscription purchased, they donate a subscription to an underprivileged students program for those that didn't have a Ms. Hastings to get them through the SAT.  So I am helping myself get to a better future and helping someone else get to theirs.  It makes me feel better about the $29.99 a month I'll be paying for the subscription.

In Case You Didn't Believe Me....



Mom and Dad 1977




Annette and Frankie


They could be body doubles....

Happy Birthday Annette!

In honor of her 69th birthday, Annette Funicello has launched annetteconnection.

I was very excited to see this on my Facebook feed today as Annette was always one of my role models growing up.  How could she possibly be one of my role models you say? Seeing as she was famous in the 60's & 70's and I was born in 1981 I can understand how you would be confused.  But you fail to take into account that my sister and I grew up watching the Beach Party and Disney movies of the 60's and 70's.  We used to think that mom was like DeeDee and dad was like Frankie.  Then they divorced and no matter how many times you hear Annette sing the Parent Trap, it just isn't going to work out.  Of course, seeing as my father and my mom are still friends to this day, I guess my parents really did turn out like Frankie and Annette, IRL.

What made me even more excited than the launch of her website was the discovery of this gem in the news section:

Annette's new Fan Mail Address:

 

Annette Funicello

c/o Postmaster

Shafter, CA 93263

OMFG!!  I can write to Annette and tell her how much I adored her in the Beach Party movies.  (And when I adore someone, they stay adored.)  I can tell her about the life lessons I learned from watching her other films and how I strive to live my life in a manner that she would find pleasing.  Because that's not creepy at all.  Seriously though if I could go back in time and be best friends with any celebrity, it would be her.

Uncomfortable Work Experiences

Today is the day I set aside to have a talk with one of my co-workers.  Our receptionist had been helping me out with data entry into our warranty database.  For the first few months or so, I would double check her work and make sure everything was entered correctly.  Once I was sure she grasped the concepts I stopped checking.  On Monday, my boss called me into her office because she was finding some inaccurate warranty information in the database.  I started looking through the information and discovered that most of the information entered in 2011 was inaccurate.  (Warranty dates were calculated incorrectly, vendor information was wrong, customer information was wrong, and two invoices were entered as one.)  My boss asked me to talk with our receptionist about it and explain why we wouldn't need her to enter invoices anymore.  I said I would and I completely agreed with her.

But now that it's come down to it, I don't want to hurt this girl's feelings either.  My boss asked me again yesterday if I'd talked to her about it and I said I would today since it would give her a couple of days before she had to come back in.   This makes me wonder if my boss is looking to see how I handle this situation which makes me even more nervous about it.  I hate the idea of making anyone feel badly about themselves or just bad in general.  Then to think it's some kind of test for me as well makes it worse.  I might be over thinking that last bit.  It could simply be that my boss realizes this is my thing and doesn't want to step on my toes.

So I've practiced with my other co-worker.  Her suggestion was that I offer to retrain the girl and give her another chance, but I got the feeling from my boss that she would rather the information be accurate from the beginning.  An unreliable database does not give our department legs to stand on when arguing a different issue.  But I can't just say to this girl you can't do this anymore without giving her a chance to correct her mistakes and redeem herself.  Hopefully my boss understands.

October 20th - Ten Years Later

Ten years ago, I made a decision about my personal life.  I checked off one of life's milestones and haven't looked back since. I was completely mad for this guy.  And even though I had been religious in my middle school/early high school years, I came to the realization that I really wanted to have sex with my boyfriend.  It was something of an internal struggle for several months because I knew what I'd been taught but my heart was telling me something completely different.  I couldn't resolve these conflicting desires (the desire to be "good" and the desire to be with my boyfriend) so, I talked about it with my mother, my source for spiritual guidance, and her only advice was that, while she would prefer I not have sex before marriage, it was my own life and I had to make the decision for myself.  She also encouraged me to consider any and all consequences and judge whether or not I could handle them.  Then, I talked about it with my aunt, my source for worldly guidance, and her advice was that I should make sure to protect myself.  She also asked me if I was sure this was the right person.  She said that that particular event in life would be something I'd always remember and the person I was with would forever be connected to that memory. 
And, looking back now, that was probably the best advice I could have gotten on the subject.  It is the first piece of advice I offer to the new crop of youngins, after reminding them to make sure they protect themselves of course.  Because it is now ten years later and I do remember that day. When I think of that moment in my life, it is connected to the person I was with.  And you know what?  Even with the things that happened after and even with the way that relationship ended, I don't regret making that decision.  And I celebrate that decision on this particular date every year and re-evaluate how I feel about it.  I can still say that it was a positive choice and I'm grateful that I wasn't completely ignorant of the impact that decision would have on my life.  I'm glad that I had people I could talk to openly and honestly about it and that I took my time to think instead of following whatever impulse I had in the moment. 

But thinking about how I viewed sex then and where I am now, I can't help but laugh at myself.  If I were able to go back and talk to my 20 year old self, I don't know that I could say anything that would have made that decision easier.  The person I was then is most certainly not who I am now.  I know that this was part of a chapter in the volume of my life and so much of where I've been plays a part in where I am going.  I truly believe we are the sum of our life experiences and I hope that I will continue to make positive decisions that will help me to grow and change over time.  That I can look back ten years from now and realize that I've matured so much.  I hope that I don't look back on decisions and cringe with embarrassment or regret.  And I hope I can love who I will be at 40 just as much as I love who I am at 30 and who I was at 20.

GMAT

Yesterday, I officially signed up for the GMAT.  I will be taking it on December 29th at 11:00am.  I wish I could say I wasn't nervous about the entire thing.  I mean, I know that is common for test taking in general but I am nervous about the amount of work that will need to get done before my actual test day.  I just paid $250 to take the GMAT and if I don't put in the serious effort it will be a waste.  My friend, A, urged me to actually sign up for the test when I was complaining about my lack of motivation in studying.  She said that if I was signed up for it I would take it more seriously and if I figured if it worked for weight watchers (where I'm paying money for something so I feel compelled to stick with it) it would work for this.  It's a step in the direction of grad school.  A major step, leaving my comfort zone and taking a risk.  Granted, it's a calculated risk, but it's scary nonetheless.

A also suggested that I start out with taking a test just to gauge where I am.  I had thought I would read through the study book first and then take the test, but her suggestion makes a lot of sense.  I'll be taking a computerized practice test this Saturday around the same time I will take the real one and then I'm planning on taking another computerized practice version on December 2 to see what I need to really focus on before the actual test.  In between those I'll take paper or other computerized tests, if I can find free ones, to practice.  But these two I will approach as I would a real test day. So wish me luck. 

I'm not really sure what this will mean for NaNo this year.  My primary focus should be on the GMAT...so maybe when I need a break I can work on something creative?

Digital Meltdown

I just finished reading this "Digital Overload is Frying Our Brains" - Wired Article and I feel it has a very valid point.  I read a quote once, possibly by Mark Twain but I'm not sure now, about how the telephone was the most unnatural thing.  The point of that quote was that anyone could command your attention with the ringing of the bell in your telephone; no matter what one was doing one would stop to answer the phone.  I honestly wish I could find that quote now because it struck me as so very true when I read it that I have often considered it. 

This most recent article (but can't find now, of course) I've read sort of goes along with that thought.  The point of the article is that we are so plugged in these days that we don't have the down time our bodies and brains need to recharge and think effectively.  It talked about those a-ha moments in the shower and how some of our quiet space is slowly disappearing and our brains don't have time to work through things.

It made me wonder if I should start meditating.  Because I know I am too connected.  I check Facebook far too often and I always have my phone with me.  I could be ten times more efficient in my every day life if I didn't want to see if people are talking to me.  The article did say that, as human beings, we have this natural desire to feel connected to other people but that the social media and cellphones interrupt other things we need as human beings.  It might be good for me to clear my mind once in a while, especially with the GMAT studying on my plate.

NaNo Ideas

I saw a commercial last night that really made me think about NaNo.  It was the new Playstation 3 "Michael" Commercial for their Long Live Play advertising campaign.  In the commercial, soldiers from Call of Duty make a hasty escape to a medieval looking tavern filled with other characters from Playstation 3 games.  Each of them describes a situation when they felt they were down and out and Michael stepped into "help" them out.  At the end, they salute "Michael" and the camera pans out to show several other gamers photos on the walls of this place. 

It really made me think of Jasper Fforde and his novels where literary characters can interact with each other in the BookWorld.  Here are several game characters hanging out in a bar saluting their player that controls them through the different levels of their respective games.  It has the same reverence that one would attribute to a deity or to the reader in Fforde's novels.  (Though, in Fforde's novels it's the author that controls the actions of the characters and the readers are merely the audience to the production.  But a reader could influence the way a character appears, as noted in the most recent novel that Harry Potter will forever look like Daniel Radcliffe because that's how the readers imagine him.)



from sharenator.com

 Cleolinda jones has a similar congregation in her Secret Life of Dolls and I sincerely wish I had that level of creativity.  I know I've written on this theme in previous NaNo's but it is incredibly seductive to this literary fangirl.  Who wouldn't want to put his or her favorite characters in a room together and see what happens?  Think about Murder by Death or certain commercials for television line-ups.   Even the recent season finale of Doctor Who with the whole history of time happening at once was a similar idea.  (Winston Churchill as Caesar and Charles Dickens writing Christmas specials for TV!!)

Laugh-in Predicts the Future

Re-posted from my LiveJournal.  I just thought it was an interesting entry and wanted to share it here:

In one such episode of Laugh-in, Rowan & Martin focus on money and the problem with Credit in this country during the 1960's.  The most interesting part was a skit about trying to buy a plane ticket at the airport. The premise being that one day cash will be meaningless.  Set 30 years in the future, Dan Rowan goes up to a counter womanned by Jo Anne Worley and proceeds to ask for a ticket to a destination.  She tells him the price of the ticket, a whopping $400, and he pulls out his wallet to pay cash.  Jo Anne Worley's character balks at the idea and asks for his Credit card instead.  They have a dialog about how he just wants to pay cash and she ends up calling management.  She is incredulous that a person would pay cash for a plane ticket but is reassured by the "management" she can accept that form of payment.  So she hangs up the phone and asks for his Cash Card.  Obviously, much funnier seen than read, but it's important to know the details. 

At the time the skit was written, it was humorous because it was so over the top.  Obviously, there was a kernel of truth in it but the point was to take it to an extreme.  This is how comedy works, after all. One of the more important details of this skit, is when Jo Anne Worley's character says to Dan Rowan's, "Well, I need some form of Identification."  In our modern world, some 30 years after this skit was written and performed, this isn't that ridiculous.  A person could certainly purchase an airline ticket with cash, but they will be scrutinized for fear of the terrorist agenda.  It is much more likely that a person will purchase their ticket using a credit card or, even more likely, a debit card.  (In this case, the idea of a "cash card" is not too different from our modern Debit cards.)  And, of course, identification must always be presented and verified for any flight.  It was kind of eerie to see how accurate this skit has become.  Even more interesting, looking back at the collapse of the housing market and subsequent recession, is to think of the role Credit has played in our current situations and how it was a concern even 30 years ago.

Layaway

Photo courtesy: TheTruthAbout via Flickr

I saw a commercial last night for the return of Layaway at Wal-Mart.  My Hallmark store has always offered layaway, especially during ornament season, but we've seen a definite increase in the number of customers utilizing this service this year.  So I thought it was interesting when I saw a Big Retail Store returning to this service as well.  It truly is a sign of the times and the struggling retail industry.  No one really wants to use their credit card, or they have already used it to the max, but they want to provide a decent holiday for their families.  So layaway provides a reasonable alternative.

Our Layaway sales haven't just been for ornaments either, which is surprising to me.  On November 6th, we will have Jim Shore for an in-store signing event and customers are already making their purchases.  We've had people layaway pillow pets, jewelry items, and other holiday gifts.  Our selling point, particularly for the ornaments, has been that we'll store all your holiday stuff for you while you make layaway payments.  (We don't have a strict schedule, you just have to pick it up by December 1st.)  It makes it easier to hide gifts from family members.

I remember when I was younger, my dad seemed to always have a layaway at the local K-Mart.  We even had school clothes on layaway one year.  I can understand why Credit Cards became the popular form of buy now, pay later though.  With a card, one could take the purchased items home right away whereas layaway requires a little more patience.  But a major benefit of layaway was the lack of interest rate and the ability to pay for an item in full before receiving it for use and destruction.  How many people have holiday debt they continue to carry from year to year for items that have long since been donated or thrown out?  Also, if one was unable to pay for the layaway in full there was a minor penalty at the store but one was able to get back most of the money that was paid.

I'm glad to see this make a comeback.  Overall, I think it will be a healthier option for our holiday over indulgences.  Of course, we need to pare back our spending habits overall -  I speak from the heart on this one, having made many of my own poor choices, financially speaking - but this will at least alleviate that credit card burden so many are carrying around.  It provides the ability to purchase things one can legitimately afford.  I think it will also cause many people to really consider their purchases if they don't have the immediate gratification a credit card provides.


Layaway Making A Comeback - MSNBC Article
"Retailers to Revive Layaway to Entice Budget Conscious Shoppers" - Fox Business Article

NaNoWriMo - Prep

In approximately twenty-four days, National Novel Writing Month will commence.  Last year, I made it about 5,114 words into the event and stopped writing.  I've been attempting to write a novel in 30 days as long as I've been attending the Maryland Renaissance Festival Regularly, a.k.a. since 2004.  This will be my eighth attempt.

It's foolish really.  I should be spending any extra time studying for the GMAT.  (to be fair that is my focus for the rest of October, so hopefully I can get the bulk of that out of the way and just take practice tests throughout November.)  I have cut back hours at Hallmark recently, in preparation for GMAT and eventually quitting to go back to school, so I should be able to write more than I have in previous years.  Though, again, I am sure there are better things I should be doing with that time.

I'm not as motivated about it as my friend, K.  I find I am very jealous of her ability to create continuously like that.  I often worry that I have lost that ability or, at least, that drive.  K finishes every year.  She's told me that they are mostly post-apocalyptic adventures with her friends.  I just get so caught up with characters and the "why?" of things that I find myself stuck in the creative mire.  Or, halfway through, I realize I hate everything I've done and can't transition out of it.  K always recommends killing all the characters and then moving on to the next story.  Which, for word count, makes sense but I always want it to flow for some reason.

So why am I already thinking about NaNo and what I could write about?  I never finish it.  My ideas sit half-formed in dark corners of hard drives.  But maybe this year...

October 5th

I always find myself a little melancholy on this day.  I could completely forget it was the fifth, but I would still wake up on this day just feeling out of place; just slightly left of center, not quite normal.  14 years ago, it was a Sunday.  Friends of mom's, from church, had dropped us off and we received some of the worst news I've heard in my young life. 

I'm re-posting a story from Creative Non-Fiction class back in 2004.  When I wrote it, I was trying to capture how it felt during that time and a little bit after.  I think about my grandmother's death every year on the anniversary, but it's not something that bothers me as it once did.  I have come to terms with the events of that weekend and what it has meant in my life.  I say this because a note from my professor, when I turned in the story, suggested that I talk to a counselor at school if these things were still a problem.  I was taken aback when she said it 1)because it was a story somewhat based in reality but amped up, but not indicative of my, then, current feelings on the matter and 2) it was the first time anyone had suggested it to me.  No one had thought about it when I was going through the grieving and subsequent bullshit and I just didn't realize it was something people did.  Go to counseling because you can't deal with something?  Only normal people do that.

It's weird to read through it now.  My writing style feels completely different to me.  It's almost like someone else wrote it.  It sounds very young to me and the transitions from topic to topic feel disjointed.  I remember that when I wrote it I tried to imagine delivering it as a monologue, so that probably accounts for some of it.  If I wrote it today, it would be completely different.  It would be a little more positive, I think, more nostalgic.  I remember thinking it was one of the better things I'd written and that's part of the reason I was going to re-post it here.  But reading it now, I don't think that's true.  Or if it is one of the better things I've written, I give myself too much credit on more recent things I've written.  Still I'll re-post,  give me something to reflect on in about ten years or so.  We'll see how much my writing style has changed by then.

Anyway, here it is, pretty much unedited, though ,so be nice in the comments, if you leave any.

My grandmother’s death was very unexpected. The entire family was surprised, though we shouldn’t have been. We should have known. We should have known every time we walked into her house, when we were greeted by a wall of cigarette smoke. Every time she would say, “ I am so sick with my head,” we should have known. Her breakfast of coffee and Excedrin, everyday, should have been an indication, but we were still surprised. Even if some of us had heeded the warning of her cough, she never did. Even if we had heeded the warning it would pass from memory soon after.

She was everything to the family, everything. Of course she would never allow her self to become anything less than the very center, the heart, of the family. She was the cause and the comfort in almost every family conflict. All of the adults in the family had suffered her wrath at one point or another. She had her set opinions and guidelines for everyone’s life. Any alteration from these specifications was justification for reprimand.

When my aunt was younger, she would sneak out of her room to meet with the neighbor kids. One night, when my grandmother finally caught her, my grandmother asked her, “ When are you gonna quit acting like a gyp-dog in heat?” My grandmother was never at a loss for words or clever turn of phrase. She would exact her revenge quickly and often when least expected. When my father finally came out of the closet to me and my sister, my grandmother used her spare key to let herself into the apartment one day while everyone was gone. That day she emptied my father’s home of all the things she had ever given him. His grandmother’s plate, with the colonial couple painted on it, was removed from its hanger on the wall and given to my aunt. My father came home that weekend to find his walls bare, save the hanging fixtures. He says that was one of his most depressing days.

I forget how my father found his way back into her good graces. Undoubtedly, my aunt had done something to fall from favor momentarily. They were always on this teeter-totter of approval. I cannot remember a time when they were both on my grandmother’s good side, but there are plenty of occasions where they were both banished. Then, my father and aunt would be friends and not rivals. These times, however, did not last long as they were always seeking my grandmother’s approval.

I was not made aware of these antics until much later in my young life. Thanksgiving was always my favorite time. We had a tradition of hiding a rubber cockroach in someone’s plate. When I think about it now it seems really gross, but at the time it was so much fun. When I look back at the videos of thanksgivings past I can see the struggle between the adults. It’s not very pronounced, but whichever family member was out of favor usually received the cockroach. It was not until my seventeenth year that I realized what it meant to be an adult. She’d always been the perfect grandmother. Watching me and my sister, while my parents worked. My grandmother was always on this pedestal for me. In the summer time she would make ham sandwiches for me and my sister, making sure to cut the crusts off and layering the ham the way our parents never would. She made the best chicken noodle casserole, and all of my memories of her are positive. Save one, save one.

It was October of my junior year in high school, early October. My mother had fallen on some ice earlier in the year and was still using a walker to walk. She wasn’t driving and we relied on friends and relatives to transport us to and fro. My grandmother had stopped by my mother’s apartment earlier that day to invite us up for the afternoon. Of course, we accepted. Mom wanted to watch some Christian Men’s rally on TV with my grandmother. That had been a big topic of discussion at church since a group of our "Christian brothers" were planning to go. I had stopped going to church when my Sunday school teacher told me my father was going to hell.  My father was a fine Christian and I saw no reason why he should be condemned to an eternity of suffering when he had enough of it on Earth. My decision to support my father in his lifestyle did not bode well with my grandmother, but she had yet to tell me her opinion.

I remember it was a Saturday afternoon and we’d picked up a pizza from Pizza Hut. Everyone else had finished eating and I sat at the table eating the last slice of cheese pizza. My grandmother was in her usual Pink chair with her gnarled feet resting on the matching ottoman. There was a cigarette dangling from her fingertips. She and my mother were discussing the rally, the fine moral characters of the men at the rally. Then, for some reason I can’t remember, I said, “Mommom, Can’t you see that these men are closed-minded hate mongers?” These were the exact words my father had used when he talked about the Christian rally.

She looked directly at me, flicked her cigarette ash in the ash tray beside her chair, and said,” You’re just repeating what your father told you. You couldn’t possibly think that’s true.”

“I do,” I told her, and I really did believe that at the time. I told her that they wouldn’t allow minorities to attend the rally and that was wrong.

Again, she flicked her cigarette. Then she exchanged a glance with my mother and then immediately back to me. I felt like I was under scrutiny by some meticulous drill sergeant. “You’ve changed, Becky, and not for the better.” She then turned her attention back to the TV , but her words resounded in my ears like an echo in a hollow cave.

The judgement doesn’t sound so severe when written down, but it still echoes in my heart today. You’ve changed, Becky, and not for the better. She said little else to me that day and when she called Sunday afternoon she only spoke with my sister about the Orioles score. Mom’s newly married friends were driving us back to our father’s house that evening and I resented her for it. I barely new these people and did not want to spend the better part of an hour in their smelly car. Unfortunately, I had no choice in the matter and was locked in their car. My sister said, “Goodbye,” to my grandmother, hung up the phone and joined me in our prison for the next hour. I wish that I had know what was to happen and I would never had left.

When we finally reached my father’s house, I noticed that only Jim’s car was in the driveway. This meant that my father wasn’t home, only his domestic partner. Jim was waiting for us. “Your father went to your grandmother’s. He tried to wait for you, but had to go. I don’t know the best way to tell you this. Your grandmother is in the hospital.”

My mind was flooded with a million questions but there were no answers until my father called a few minutes later. He was crying, and I have very few memories of my father crying. She had had an aneurysm. Apparently when she had gotten off the phone with my sister, she had gotten up to go to the bathroom. On her way there, she collapsed. The paramedics say she was dead before she hit the floor. If that was supposed to make me feel better, it didn’t. We were surprised, but we shouldn’t have been.

And every night before I go to sleep I hear those words. You’ve changed, Becky, and not for the better. You’ve changed, Becky, and not for the better. I hear those words and I hear her saying them, and I cry in to my pillow so I won’t wake my sister. I cry silent tears every day and wish that I could go back. At the funeral, everyone thought it was great that each family member had gotten to spend time with her before she died. I agree, but they don’t know the words that are rumbling around inside my head and beating in my heart. You’ve changed, Becky, and not for the better. I wish I hadn’t fought with her that Saturday. I wish I had talked to her on the phone that Sunday, then I could remember her saying something else. I wish a million different things about that weekend, but it’s not reality. I didn’t know, and I was surprised.