Things you don’t wanna hear in the middle of nowhere, especially while chaperoning youth (this is from our trip to Otter Creek in the fall).
“There’s no reception.”
“You don’t need reception to call 911.”
Things you don’t wanna hear in the middle of nowhere, especially while chaperoning youth (this is from our trip to Otter Creek in the fall).
“There’s no reception.”
“You don’t need reception to call 911.”
OK, so where were we?
Oh. EMILIO!! “The Mighty Ducks man, I swear to God.” If you know what that quote’s from then I love you. If not, I have a movie to recommend to you.
Anyways. So we met Emilio. And his friend whose name I really don’t remember but she was super nice and made friends with us immediately at Celebrity Day at the Downs.
It’s hilarious too, ’cause she was like, “What celebrity are you guys most excited to see?” And we were like, “Um, Emilio, duh.” And she was like, “Seriously???” And then told us how they had dinner with his dad the night before, “You know, Martin Sheen.” Yeah, we know who his dad is, lady, and also his brother’s real crazy, now, how can we get in this movie?
Well, Emilio was also on the guest list for the huge party the next night, the night before Derby – the Barnstable Brown Gala. Those of you unfamiliar with Derby madness, it’s an elite party hosted by former Doublemint Twins and all the money (or lots of it) goes to charity. It’s where most of the celebrities go when they’re in town to see the race, and it’s insane.
People basically camp out outside the house hours and hours before the party, to catch a glimpse of people as they come in and walk the mini-red carpet. And you don’t get in unless you have a TON of money, know someone who does, or somehow work for the party – or the press.
That’s where I come in. One of the biggest press perks is getting in places you wouldn’t otherwise get in to. Cause there’s no way this girl would be there unless the situation was like it was this year – when my job required me to go take pics of the famous folks. DARN.
So I bought a fancy dress (fancy for me anyway, cause I usually only wear dresses for super special occasions. I’m working on changing that though. Bear with me. And my whitey white legs) and put on eyeliner for a change. (That’s how you know shit is getting real.)
My goals for the night were simple, meet Emilio again and get a picture this time and also meet another celebrity that is majorly important in my universe – Terry O’Quinn, aka John Locke, aka the BAMF from LOST. Oh and I also wanted some swag if we were allowed to take it.
Back to the John Locke thing for a second – when LOST was on, I was damn near obsessed. And that man on that show was the best thing about it (aside from Naveen Andrews, yum). His character is one of my most favorite from any television show ever and when I heard he was going to be at Barnstable, I knew I had to meet him before the night was over.
Four of us from the office went to the party, two of whom stayed down on the Red Carpet and then another co-worker and I parked ourselves higher up on the hill, mainly because neither of us is afraid to talk to anyone, and would probably have better luck. And that plan proved to be the best one, ’cause that’s where we saw everyone.
Here’s a quick look at a couple that stopped – and a couple that barely stopped.
Fun fact: The (Now Former) Roommate had met the other love of his life (besides his wife) the day before at a concert, Miranda Lambert. When I saw her at the party and before asking for a picture of her and her friends I told her she’d made his life when they met and she said I was sweet. (Now I’m like 2 degrees from Adam Levine).
Tom Brady basically ran by because he thinks he’s a big deal but no one cared all that much. And then we made friends with Darryl McDaniels (the DMC of RunDMC, so, ya know, NBD.)
When Terry O’Quinn showed up, you could tell where the LOST fans were – I heard a few screams of excitement and then saw him start to walk up the hill. And that’s when my legs stopped working.
I got really clammy and dumb and ALMOST called him John Locke when I stopped him and asked him for a picture. I had so many questions for him – about the show, about his character, about if Naveen is as hot in real life, but yeah, I just smiled. And tried to breathe.
John Mother-Effing Locke and I. Buds.
Then we saw our buddy Garrett again, and talked to him about his winnings from The Oaks ’cause we are cool like that.
And then, speaking of buddies, I saw my friend from the track the day before – Emilio’s friend. We talked for a little bit like it was nothing, just me and her and Ed and Emilio, then I worked up the nerve to ask him for a pic.
And he said “Sure, sweetie” and I quacked under my breath and the rest is history. I will cherish this photo forever.
Three hours after I was supposed to be sound asleep last night, I wasn’t. I hadn’t even come close yet.
Instead, I laid there (lie there? I never know the right tense) and stared. I stared at the closet door and then I rolled over and stared at my bookcase. I stared at the light blinking on my closed – and sleeping, ironically – computer.
It slowly lit up and dimmed. In rhythm with my breath, actually. For a second, the million thoughts running through my brain stopped and I just concentrated on that light, getting brighter, then dimmer. Breathing in, breathing out.
Then the thoughts came back. The text came back. The word that a friend had passed away. That he had taken his own life. That he needed to find peace so badly there was no other way, in his mind, to make it all stop, to make it all go away.
My heart broke again. For him. For his brothers, who are also my friends. For his mom. For his dad. For his other friends, his closer friends, who wished they’d seen it coming, wished there had been some clear sign before it was too late, some way they could help.
I stared. So tired, but so awake. I tried to think about other things, and was successful a couple times. And then it came again, like a wave crashing. It still does. I feel sad again. I think about my friend. I think about the last time I saw him, the last time I hugged him, the people who are doing the same thing I am right now, rolling it over and over in their minds and wondering why.
Why him? Why was that the answer? Why do people feel like that is the only way to quiet the noise that you want to turn off so badly and how do we protect the people we love from feeling that way? Can we?
I don’t want to believe it. Not him, couldn’t be him. We used to work together. And since then, the times I’ve seen him have unfortunately been few and far between. But I remember the times when I saw him every day. When I gave him a hug every day. He was my friend. My sweet friend, who when I saw him a year ago at a wedding had that same smile I always remembered, that same hug I got every day we worked together. Those memories, mixed with the memory that randomly popped in my head – when he convinced me to get onstage at the bar where he worked because my Halloween costume was so good it had to win the contest. And it did. It was the year I was Juno, by the way.
I don’t know why that memory specifically sticks out. But it does. That one and one from the same bar, when he sang karaoke. I didn’t know he could sing, but he could. Well.
I’m finishing this up at midnight… 24 hours from when I tried to go to sleep last night. Tonight doesn’t feel much different. The pang in my stomach is fading whenever that wave comes. But the wave still comes. The sadness still comes. The fear of not knowing if someone’s feeling like this, when someone’s feeling like this. Before it’s too late.
I’ve been low. You know that. But to think that there’s lower? There’s a point where it stops being “I just don’t want to get out of bed today” to “I just don’t want to get out of bed ever again.” Hurts my heart.
There’s a quote about being kind to everyone you meet, “for everyone is fighting a hard battle.” And unfortunately, and what’s scary is, a lot of the time it’s not a battle you can see. And the only thing that can bring an end to battle is peace.
I hope… no, I know, that he has found the peace he was so badly wanting, needing, craving. I just wish, selfishly, for his family, for his friends, that’d he’d have been able to find it another way.
Rest well, sweet friend. And watch over the ones you love and you left behind. Help them feel the peace you have now. You will be missed.
One time when I was driving, I saw a shoe. In the middle of the road. It was weird.
No idea how it got there. Was it thrown out? Did it fall off some redneck who was hanging their foot out the window while driving? (I say redneck, but I’d totally do it if it was more comfortable) Did someone get hit by a car? Is it a sign for something?
Regardless of what it was for or from, it was weird.
It’s not the only time I saw something weird in the road and I’m sure it won’t be the last.
There was another time I saw this dinosaur on the sidewalk.
Why does any of this matter? Because someone has made a blog out of sightings just like these.
It’s called “Sad Stuff On The Street” and it’s great. People submit photos of stuff on the street that seems as ridiculously out of place as that shoe was. And the commentary on it is even better. My favorite is the “Depressed Teddy Bear Series,” because apparently a lot of people leave teddy bears randomly on the street.
Check it out.
I think I punctuated that correctly.
Currently, as a bookmark, I am using a Les Miserables little fact sheet that came in a book I bought from Half-Price Books. It was convenient, so I kept it.
I did not, however, put a picture of it on the Internet. But I should have!
Because there is this site – a couple sites, actually – dedicated to “found” random stuff like that.
I’ve gotten out of the habit of checking the blogs regularly, but when I do I’m happier for it.
Found Magazine is dedicated to anything that’s found. Grocery lists, notes, photos, drawings, love letters, hate letters, whatever you find and wherever you find it.
Then there’s “I Found Your Camera” which reunites people with their missing film. These people have lost their camera, but someone has developed the film and is willing to get in touch with you to get it back to you and it’s just cool.
I’ve never found anything that warrants posting on either site, but in related news, I think I’ve just found something to add to my life list.
So I was all prepared to sit down and lament the loss of one of my most valued possessions. Luckily, I had less time to write than I did to look for said possession because it’s since been found!
Remember my experiment? I wanted to see how long I could hold onto the same tube of Chapstick because it never happens. This experiment may next be replicated with a fish. I am not known for being the best at fish ownership, but dammit if I don’t love them enough to try
R.I.P. Koolaid Orlando Hagan-Roberts, 2003-2003.
We were doing alright with the Chapstick in those first few days. If it wasn’t in my pocket, it was on my desk, or in my purse.
There were even a couple of scares, where I searched and searched and it happened to be wedged into that far corner of my purse where I couldn’t get to it, ya know, behind the lone glove, small replica of a London phone booth and 48 cents I had rolling around in there as well.
And it wouldn’t be as big of a deal if a) I hadn’t proclaimed my plan on the Internet for all the world and my family to see or b) the Chapstick wasn’t so damn good!
It’s a white hot cocoa kind that I have yet to see anywhere else, only adding to my anxiety that it’s definitely gonna get lost, it’s just a matter of when.
A little over a week ago I thought it was over. I’d made a couple of stops on the way home from work and there was a significant possibility that while pulling something else out of my pocket, Lil’ Chappy came right along out with it. Because I couldn’t find it for the next five days.
Then, wonder of wonder, miracle of miracles, I’m just sitting on the couch, minding my own business. I get up to unplug my charger from its home beside the end table and what’s laying on the floor? CHAPSTICK! Unharmed, un-lost, hallelujah, have mercy.
I know exactly where it is at the moment and hope it stays that way. But those Chapsticks are tricky little buggers, so there’s no telling when you’ll see an update for real on its departure from my life. Let’s hope its not anytime soon. My arms already have to suffer from
this weather (thanks again, eczema), I’d rather my lips not have to, too.
One of the great mysteries of the world – besides where the other sock is, how Robert Downey Jr. can be that amazing and why “Whitney” is still on the air – is what happens to all the Chapsticks I ever buy.
Seriously. I have never finished an entire Chapstick. I’ve lost them somehow or accidentally thrown them away or, most recently, left it in my pants pocket so it went through the washer and dryer. Because I didn’t know how safe it would be to put on my lips and possibly ingest after that process, I threw that one out.
Now, I have a new one. It was $1 at Walgreens and I’ve had it so far for approximately 4 days. I’ve managed to keep an eye on it thus far, but I’m attempting an experiment. I’m going to (attempt to) not lose track of it for as long as possible. And see what happens.
Right now, I know exactly where it is. On the counter in my bathroom. See?
But give it oh, 48 hours. It never lasts. Actually, if you’ll excuse me – no, wait. Still on the bathroom counter. Whew.
Yep. It’s another one of those feature-y things we seem to like so much over here at on-account-of.
Do you watch “I Shouldn’t Be Alive” on Animal Planet? Because shit’s crazy. Correction: People are crazy. Who says “I’m gonna go off on my own in the ocean for a month, don’t worry about me, and if you don’t hear from me by the end of the month, wait a couple more weeks before you start looking for me”? ‘Cause that’s pretty much what happens.
Last time I wrote you a little stream-o’-consciousness with this show, it was also about the ocean. And a guy named Steve. I am now convinced that the only people who go sailing and almost die from it are named Steve. Never get on a boat with a man named Steve. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
So yeah. I watched some more ISBA and took notes. Here goes.
I Shouldn’t Be Alive: 76 Days in the Atlantic Ocean
Premise: A 29-year-old goes on “the sailing trip of a lifetime.” Ain’t that the truth..
Sailed from US to Canary Islands. He has 3,000 miles to go to get home. Awesome. He should just fly.
Trip is an adventure, “a means of escape.” Well, you’re gonna escape, alright.
His name is Steve. They’re always named Steve.
Wasn’t paying attention just now but he said “I pictured myself more of like a sea creature.” Hmm. I think I would want to be a dolphin.
And of course there’s a storm. But he’s an experienced sailor and that’s all that matters.
Oh, bad weather and he’s going to bed. Yeah, lay down and get seasick. And maybe choke when you throw up from it.
Shit. Iceberg. Not really, but it’s filling up like the Titanic. And he’s downstairs. Hey claustrophobia.
He does have a nice life raft…it looks like a tent on top of a tube. And now he’s gotta get back on the boat and get equipment and food and stuff so he doesn’t die on the raft.
WHY DO THESE PEOPLE GO SAILING?
The re-enactor guy looks like Sawyer from LOST. Aw.. LOST.
Oh cool. Now he’s locked underwater in the cabin of the boat…THE BOAT THAT’S SINKING. Hello, new biggest fear!
(Sidebar: Baby Einstein is afraid of boats. Not like, to look at or anything, but to be on. After seeing things like this, not a crazy thing to be scared of.)
Oh good, he got out. And got his stuff. And he has shorts on and is freezing. Also the waves are tossing his raft around like crazy. Why hasn’t he thrown up – or did they edit that out?
All alone in the middle of the ocean. And, like everyone on this damn show “no one will be looking for him for several days.” In his case, though, it’s weeks.
“The world’s biggest desert is the ocean.” Interesting.
He had a water purifier but has no idea how to use it. That sucks.
“I was lonesome.” Um, you were gonna be lonesome on the boat, now you’re just lonesome on the raft. The only difference is less room and easier for sharks to get you.
Don’t drink so much water, you have to be out there for 76 days! (Oh wait, he doesn’t know that part.)
One week in..he needs to get his science on and figure out how in the hell to work the water purifier thing.
Had to cut one of the three of them open to figure it out, but hey, at least he doesn’t have to drink sea water.
He’s run out of food. You have a harpoon, son. You risked your life to go back to get it. Get to fishin’.
He saw a fish – dude, don’t stab the boat.
Ooh he got one. And is now beating it to death. That’s some Bear Grylls-like shit. This is happening day 14.
He just said “as long as the raft stays in one piece, I’ll be OK.” You know that’s not gonna last. FORESHADOWING.
And there’s the sharks. Messin’ with his raft. Those sharks are such bullies.
Man vs. Shark. Scared him off. That’s good.
He sees a ship. And it’s super-close. Now he’s drinking all his water. Bad idea…
It passed him. Because “it’s really hard to be seen at sea, even if you’re looking for something.” Well, that makes you hopeful.
Ships keep passing him…how frigging frustrating.
He’s been out there a month. Apparently ships only pass at night. Also, nobody at home is looking for him. Possibly my new second-worst fear: Being lost and no one knows or will be looking for you for a while.
It took him a month to cry – he says. I’d have been sobbing – and probably dead – night 1.
He says he’s so thirsty he’d trade his hand for a cup of water. I hope I am never that thirsty.
“I was getting skinnier” – cut to shot of Sawyer-like actor boy’s sexy abs.
Tried to catch a fish and it popped his raft. Day 34.
“He’s in serious trouble.” No shit, narrator man.
Remember how you said you could survive if the raft was intact? JINXED IT.
Geez, now he has to pump it back full of air. Constantly. Yeah, and we’re on day 50.
He gave up. And is now thinking he’s wasted his life.
Kind of looks like Jesus right now.
He stuck a fork in a patch in a raft. Worked. Win? Also he has a sunburn. And is gonna try fishing again. Better not pop your raft again.
Day 60 – get under the tent part, you’re gonna get sun poisoning.
He has a watch. So there’s that..
Day 66. Two frigging months. Now his solar things don’t work anymore. No more water.
I read somewhere recently that you can survive a few weeks or something without water but only 11 days without sleep. That’s all he’s doing.
“He’s losing his mind.” He looks like a caveman. Or a murderer. Day 69.
Day 74. How will it END?!
He’s rocking back and forth. First sign of crazy. Next stop, maniacal laughter.
Now he’s hallucinating. Ready to die. Which, on this show, means you either have four to eight more days to go, or YOU’RE ‘BOUT TO GET RESCUED!
He bumped into plastic bottles and crates and stuff in the water – OH, so he’s in the Ohio River?
Sawyer never looked this rough on LOST.
I never want to go sailing.
Now the one island he almost runs into has cliffs and reefs and is gonna pop his boat again. Unless he is rescued by these guys in a fishing boat! Hallelujah.
The guys that rescued him asked him what he was doing out here.
Um, dying. And getting sunburnt.
He weighs 100 pounds after all that. And stays in the hospital for six weeks. Whoa.
“I had too much unfinished business and that kept me alive.” Like ghosts?
So, I don’t know if you know this or not – unless we aren’t that close, you don’t know me or follow me on Twitter or I haven’t talked about it too much – but this summer I’m leaving the country.
Not permanently, just for a week. And I don’t even have to learn a different language, y’all.
I’m going to London. Yep, the one in England, not the one in Kentucky. I don’t believe it either.
You see, I have been out of the country before…twice to Jamaica and once to Canada – which I don’t really count because we went to Toronto and that’s basically still America. But never anything like this.
One of my cousins – who I’ve been wanting to visit for a while anyway – moved over there for work for a couple years. When I found that out I figured “what a perfect time for a visit!” I’d get to see her and her family, which I’m super-excited about because they’re awesome and fun and funny AND I get to go to one of the countries I’ve been dying to visit since at least the first Harry Potter book.
I’ve already been practicing my accent and the limited British slang I know. It’s not as good as my Boston stuff..but I have a few more months to work on it.
My knowledge of London is not limited to those books but they are one of my favorite things to come out of that country in recent years.
I have no idea what we’re going to do but some of the obvious tourist-y stuff and maybe a couple Harry Potter-related sights are definitely on the list. Have I mentioned yet that the morning we fly in to Heathrow Airport is the morning after the very last HP movie premieres over there? I will not be held responsible for what may happen if I see any of them in the airport. And I may or may not be wearing my HP glasses and Quidditch shirt. Yeah, I’m that girl.
It’s still a little more than three months away, so there’s no official countdown started yet but I am ridiculously excited. Adding to this fact – I haven’t had a vacation in two years, unless you count that awesome week of quarantine after The Great Appendix Eviction of 2011. And I don’t count that. Because the only remotely fun thing involved was mid-day naps.
So. Advice on sights to see, foods to eat, things to bring to a person who hasn’t been in America for a year? Gimme. Please?
I am so serious. Besides clowns, heights and submarines – don’t judge that last one, the episode of LOST where my TV boyfriend dies completely proves my point – the thing I may be most scared of is being murdered.
Yep. I’m scared of being murdered.
See: Why I slept in the middle of the bed when I house sat last summer for my aunt and uncle. Reason: So I had an equal chance of getting out if someone came in either of the two doors to their room.
See: Why I will not live in a first-floor apartment. Reason: Easier to get in and kill me, duh.
It’s not entirely unwarranted. I am a young woman. I don’t live alone but I used to. I’m not a fast runner – not really a runner at all, I’ve told you before I run like an old man – so it’s not like I could make a quick getaway.
But I do watch a lot of cop shows. So I feel like I know what I’m up against.
Why am I telling you all this?
Because. There are currently two cops walking around the apartment complex right now with flashlights. Naturally, I feel that means they are looking for a murderer. Or some other criminal that has escaped custody or something equally illegal.
Therefore. I will not be sleeping for at least another hour. And I’d really appreciate it if someone would come over and hold my hand until I fall asleep. Or at least guard my door. Thanks.