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On Friday, the baby brought home some classwork and I forgot to check his folder for it. This morning, right before rushing him out the door, I glanced at the sentences that he wrote and started cracking up. Behold, selections from “My Writing Journal #12” by my son, the maniac:

My favorite song is we will we will rock you. Is my favorite song becus it is the best. It reley rockx. I reley like lierix.

I hit the pinata and I get candy. My favorite candy is choulite. (I’m guessing this is “chocolate.”) My pinata is cool. I love my pinata. My pinata is a t-rex face.

If I had one million dollars I would by a hot tub. I would by a manchun. I would get one million more. So me i could be rich. I love money.

I shopped all day for chikin. Chikin is soo good. mmm! Oh ya!

Five white things are me. Papper. Showman. glue. Marshmello.

I showed the husband and we were nearly in tears. All day I’ve been saying, “Mmm, chicken. I’m white.”

Also, I think I’m going to write a parenting book based around this tip that I offer to you from my own experience: If your child is in some kind of tizzy and is coming at you giggling maniacally and flailing? Just stiff-arm him.

Hey! I have an actual post that I’m working on, but it’s the first day of classes so I’m a little frazzled. In the meantime, delurk in honor of Delurking Day, why dontcha? If you’re new here and haven’t introduced yourself or if you’ve been reading for awhile and just haven’t gotten around to it, I’d love to hear from you.

I got that fancy badge from Sarah

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Item Name: My Bloody Valentine 3D Advanced Screening Ticket
Quantity: 2

Rated R – includes graphic brutal horror violence and grisly images throughout and language.

Aw, yeah. I know how to make a date, no? Thought I’m quite concerned that the film contains “language.” I would prefer just grunting and blood. In 3D. No need for all that talking and plot and shit.

Also, because it needs to be said…

VICTORY TORTE! HERE WE GO STEELERS HERE WE GO!

As for Baltimore:

I seriously can not get over this shit.

I’m feeling like Sophia from The Color Purple…wanna go somewhere. Can’t.

Wanna blog something. Passed out.

There are other forces keeping me from you, internet. Last night while dinner was cooking, I announced that I was going upstairs to post to MY blog, since the husband has been happily updating his all week. I flopped on my bed, opened my laptop…and of course the wireless was not working. So I said fuck it.

I’m pretty sure I’m in the midst of my annual, winter “hibernation-lite” mode. Sleeping is just so awesome. I swear, right before I pass out at night, I go, “Yay!” While we were on vacation, the husband and I got to sleep in a king-sized bed with an awesome (and very firm) mattress. I slept so soundly the whole time we were there. Our mattress at home is nice and firm, but is only a full-size, and this causes some strife. Mostly because I sleep in a position that could be described as…eh…Exaggerated Fetal.

The other night, I was already well into dreamland and sprawled out when the husband came to bed. The next day, the husband told me that he complained to me about my dominance of the sleeping area. And you know what I said to him? “I’ll move.” Like, totally asleep and dismissive and of course I didn’t actually mean what I said.

But that pretty much brings you up to date on me. I’m trying to play catch up at work this week before classes start back up on Monday. It took me three days to open my mail and go through email. So…yeah.

My dad started chemo on Monday and so far that seems to be going pretty well. He called to tell me he was starting on Monday on New Year’s Eve, while I was goofing off with Tracey and really in no condition to talk about things like cancer. I tried to play it straight and I think I did pretty well. But I was all:

This is the year-end meme that I do every year.

1. Where did you begin 2008?
Like last year, in the living room of a beach house in Rehoboth, DE. We watched Radiohead and Bjork on TV, said, “Whoooaaa,” a lot and then I got all dumbfounded staring at the stars on the beach.

2. What did you do in 2008 that you’d never done before?
Sat in a hospital waiting room for over 12 hours waiting for my dad to get his malignant tumor removed.

3. Did you keep your new years’ resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
I don’t make resolutions but I am going to try to cut back on Diet Dr. Pepper. I’ve sort of already gotten started on this and am drinking way less of the stuff, but I’d like to no longer be the woman at Wal-Mart with the 24-packs and the crazed look in her eyes.

4. Were you in school (anytime this year)?
Yes. I have two more semesters of grad school under my belt. By this time next year, I should be done!

5. Did anyone close to you give birth?
Nope.

6. Any new additions to your family?
I think my cousin, Jeffrey, is looking to make his girlfriend a more permanent character, but nothing official yet.

7. Did anyone close to you die?
I was thankfully spared from the funeral home circuit this year.

8. Did you know anybody who got married?
I was thankfully spared from the wedding circuit this year. 😉 No, I like weddings, and I think there are at least two on the horizon for next year.

9. What countries did you visit?
The United States of What the Fuck

10. How did you earn your money?
Administrating and writing.

11. Where did most of your money go?
Bills. And those fuckers at PNC Bank.

12. Did you have any encounters with the police?
Not really, but my mom did get pulled over by Sergeant Douchebag in Mt. Lebanon. He was such a perfect example of “that dickwad in high school who was too stupid to do anything but pick on people so he became a cop,” that I had to plug my ears from hearing the crap that came out of his mouth. Otherwise, I would have launched into a rousing version of, “Fuck the Police.”

13. What would you like to have in 2009 that you lacked in 2008?
Some more money. And some home improvement action.

14. What date from 2008 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
October 31. I TURNED 30 OH MY GOD.

15. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Continuing to be a ninja, as my buddy Mary calls me, via working toward my MA, working full-time (and hopefully not screwing up people’s lives in the process), writing whatever whenever I can, wifey-ing, and parenting. I can always do better at all of these things, but I think I can safely say that I did all of them well.

Also, I can’t tell if my 30th birthday really marked a turning point or not, but I’m definitely much more comfortable with myself as a person and much more contented with my life. I think I finally started thinking a little differently and recognizing what’s important. I can honestly say I’ve never been happier.

16. What was your biggest failure?
Not going to bed at a reasonable hour. I really need to self-regulate a little better.

17. Did you suffer illness or injury?
Nope. *knocks on wood* Although the Student Health Center really wanted me to have appendicitis. The husband had all of the injuries this year.

18. Where did you go on holidays/vacation?
We went to my mother-in-law’s house on Christmas Eve, and to my grandmother’s house and the husband’s grandmother’s cousin’s house on Christmas Day. I’m hoping that by 2010, our house will be in enough shape that we can start shifting at least some of the holiday activities to our house. We’re currently in Rehoboth with the Sweetneys to ring in the new year.

19. What was the best thing you bought?
Dude: new cookie sheets, Silpats, a cookie scoop, and a cupcake carrier. I realize these are domestic nerd items but they seriously make baking (and storing/transporting your baked goods) SO MUCH EASIER. Also, I got an iPhone (well, technically, my mom bought it) and I’m happy to say that we are still totally in love.

20. Whose behavior merited celebration?
I’m generally pleased that US citizens didn’t elect McCain/Palin, but then again they only came to their senses after voting Bush/Cheney in TWICE. I still don’t understand what drugs y’all are smoking.

21. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
I’m probably not the best person to ask that question, since I’ll just say, “Everyone.” Because I’m a hater. But yesterday I was reading this book that the husband gave me for Christmas and it said that recruitment into the Air Force and Navy rose 500% after Top Gun came out, which is just…oh my god. It made me think of Dave Chappelle talking about how phone numbers in movies are always 555-something because people were calling people’s houses and saying, “Hi, is Indiana Jones there?” Just…STUPID.

22. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
Getting some more school done, going to Detroit.

23. Did you move anywhere?
No.

24. Where do you live now?
In my house in Pittsburgh, PA.

25. What song will always remind you of 2008?
Hmm, I should really start keeping a music diary or some shit, since I listen to all kinds of stuff and much of it isn’t current, Billboard-material. But last night I was listening to Kid A and really feeling “How to Disappear Completely,” and remembered how beautiful it is. It’s probably a tad more melancholy than I’ve been feeling, but whatever.

What’s up, party people? I am in Rehoboth with Sweetney and Co. and right now everyone is off doing their own thang. The husband ventured to the main drag to check out the record store. The remaining adults are all internetting, and the kids are watching a movie and making high-pitched noises.

I was in the living room by myself when the beach house phone rang. I ran to answer it and had one of the most ridiculous conversations ever.

“Hello?”
“Hello, who is this?”
“This is Kelly. I’m…I’m here…and I’m…My name’s Kelly,” I answered, because really what other explanation does she need and she’s the one who called me anyway.
“Uh, so this isn’t _____?”

Now, here the woman on the other end, no doubt a little stunned by having to talk to TEH KELLY (like, seriously, why did she even have to ask who I am? She didn’t recognize my voice?), asked for someone…and I could have sworn she said, “Stephen Hawking.” And I told her that no, that person wasn’t here. I mean, I saw someone wheeling through the hall earlier with a vocoder, but I don’t think it was him.

At home we always get calls for Pottery Barn Kids. The first few calls were just annoying, and now I get all irritated with such callers, because why can’t they and their yuppie friends get the right number when seeking out their tasteful but overpriced children’s furniture? Gawd.

Anyway, here’s some pics of our one big activity so far: making our compulsory trip to Dogfish Head. We’ve spent the rest of our waking ours on the couch, though Tracey and I did throw down at the outlet mall today before our hungover asses nearly caused us to black out in Old Navy by the performance fleece.

The iPhone usage here is off the hook.

Hot wings. Perfect for a growing boy.

Shortly after taking this picture, I tossed these kids into a blender and made a cuteness smoothie. Seriously, is that shit not ridiculous? It’s a total survival mechanism because the whining is a little intense.

M daintily dabs at her mouth after eating some fresh souls.

I know it looks like I’m sitting on the couch in my pajamas and posting to my blog about something not quite earth-shatteringly important when I should be doing laundry and hacking a path through the Christmas debris that is littering our entryway, but it only looks that way to you because you’re high.

Anyway, a belated Merry Christnukkwanzaa to you, internet. I hope you’re having a lovely holiday week. Yesterday was fun, but very long, and I am still a tad exhausted today. We all got plenty of cool presents.

The baby seemed pretty happy with all of his stuff, despite not getting a D-Rex, which we said no to because a) it’s a $150 and this is not a $150 dinosaur kinda year and b) we weren’t convinced that he really wanted it. And, as it turned out, he didn’t mention it once since he did get plenty of rad presents and we kept telling him not to be disappointed if he didn’t get everything we wanted and that Christmas is more about hanging out with family (and eating) than presents. Moral lesson learned? Let’s hope so. Especially since I think The Lord must be communicating with me through my breakfast. Check it:

I was frying an egg and broke the yolk, because I hate dippy eggs, and it started looking like a fetus. That’s gotta be a sign, right? I should go buy canned goods and bottled water or something.

Alright, I need to get moving. But! I do want to say thank you to reader Emily from LA who was sweet enough to send me a book from my Amazon wishlist. Thanks, Emily! I read a few pages the other night and it’s crazily interesting so far!

The more I think back to the period of my life when I was about 20 – 21 and how I lived at that time, the more I realize what a weirdo I was…am…was. Shut up. Someday I’ll tell you more about it, but one thing I need to frame this post with is the fact that I was working nights during the spring and summer of 1999 and living alone and was therefore completely nocturnal. I would get home from work around 1 or 2 a.m. and then do the things that people normally do when they get home from work but it was all bizarro.

I would eat dinner, fire up the AOL on the ol’ 56k, smoke cigarettes, and watch public access shows. I often ended up watching the local death/black metal show (The Gallow’s Pit?) and frothing religious dudes, but occasionally I would catch some gems. This is not from PCTV, but it very well could have been. Gawd richly bless you.

First off, I apologize in advance for a post that’s generally a downer at a time when folks are trying to focus on happiness, but I have to get this off my chest.

The other day, Tracey sent this link to the MamaPop writers. A group of teenagers in Ukraine brutally murdered people and took video of themselves in the act. A brief discussion among us followed, mostly expressing disgust at the actions of the teenagers and at the details that were available. Everyone mentioned reading a bit of the transcript, but not being able to look at the video that was included.

I looked.

Only for a few seconds, but long enough to realize what I was watching and what I was doing by watching.

I’m fascinated by death and particularly by deaths that are wrapped in crime. One of my favorite books is Shots in the Dark and I think post-mortem photography in general is an incredible art form. I’m not sure why. I’ve pored over those pictures and contemplated how peaceful the subjects look, even if their deaths were violent. Everything in their life led up to that moment and we all share that fate. We will all be stared at by people looking down at us and we will be unable to change their perception.

I’m also a huge fan of all manner of fucked up movies. I have my limits, of course…I’m thinking specifically of Audition and Japanese horror in general. Something about that type of cinema just doesn’t sit right with me. But I’ve seen some rather unspeakable things thanks to movies.

Somehow, looking at still images, especially in black and white, and watching films of actors, even if they’re based on a true story, is extremely different than watching that video. Perhaps the crime photos seem more kosher since they’re taken by a third party who is actually performing a service.

I told Tracey that I didn’t even know why I watched it. Morbid curiosity. Voyeuristic temptation. And I think, prior to clicking “play,” I didn’t totally believe it was what it was purported to be. What did I stand to gain by watching such a thing? Validation that such things, unimaginable as they may be, actually occur? Scratching some unacceptable itch?

I’ve always been fascinated and terrified by serial killers and people who murder for no apparent reason, at random. They set their own criteria, identify those who sin in their eyes, and deal them their punishment. From the time that I understood what these people did and how they did it, I’ve always been at least a little afraid that I would end up one of those random people. Our house being burgled last year by a man who crept into our house while we slept just a few feet above only exacerbated those fears. I’m still not able to watch my fucked up movies without feeling at least a little bit of panic.

The things that I saw in those seconds of jerky, cellphone video. I saw the nauseating glee. I saw beings who resembled humans and maybe once, a long time and a different reality ago, were humans that went grocery shopping and paid bills and stopped at red lights. And I saw…a face. Or something, a bloody, desecrated, disgusting, violated mess that used to be a face. And I could still see the question of, “Why?” running through a mind that was soon to stop functioning completely. And I could hear the echo of, “Why not me? Yet?” in the back of my brain.

It disturbed me in a way that I didn’t know possible. My worst nightmare came true for someone else and I watched it happen. I didn’t wield that hammer, but I might as well have stood there, in that cold, bleak forest, and watched it unfold.

By the time my brain said, “No. Stop,” I hadn’t assured myself of the slim chances of this ever happening to me or someone I know. I hadn’t cured myself of my paranoia. And I didn’t feel like I had a deeper understanding of how messed up this world is.

I had only accomplished one thing: watching someone be murdered.

Maybe I was stroking that part of my mortality that tries to deny itself, the part that likes to believe that I will call the shots, and if I cannot, I will call the shots for someone else. What separates me from Them?

I suppose what separates me is that I felt the urge to apologize after I chose to silence the giddy foreign language and the moist gargling breaths and the crunching leaves and the plastic bags. When I stopped, a different ending was still possible. Media feeds me truth and lies and joy and pain. And the brutal epiphany that reality and my place in it is more fluid than I’d like to admit. I’m sorry.

Long live the new flesh.