it's not a matter of time, it's just a matter of timing

I wanted a place to share this story that was a little more intimate than ye olde book of faces, but still public. And, I wanted to share it while it was still somewhat fresh. This all happened less than 12 hours ago.

My views on death have never really meshed with most peoples' so I don't expect anyone to agree with me, or feel all warm and fuzzy after reading this, or even really understand where I'm coming from. I do not fear death. I fear pain, and suffering, and the pain and suffering of my loved ones, but death itself does not frighten me. If anything, I am intrigued by it. It happens to everyone, timely or not, and on its own terms. I can honestly say that true sadness for the death of someone has only gripped me once, because it seemed so untimely and unfair, and it was someone that never got to say their farewells.

I do not know the circumstances of this man's life or death, only that he is now deceased, and that my friends and I were witness to the discovery of his empty body.

When you're drinking, and chatting, and playing beer pong with 3 of your favorite people in an apartment on a very late Friday night, you don't expect to hear knocking on the door of a neighbor's apartment, especially when you haven't heard a peep from any of the neighbors all night. So, when I DID hear knocking, it piqued my curiosity and I peeped my little eye through the peep-hole. Two police officers were knocking on the door diagonally across from the apartment we were in. INTRIGUE! SUSPENSE! WHAT FUN!

"The COPS are knocking on the door over there" I whispered loudly while motioning towards the appropriate apartment.

"Really? I think he's deaf."

J., who lived in the apartment, went to the door to look for himself. Yep definitely cops, and definitely knocking on the deaf neighbor's apartment. He opened the door and popped his head out to let them know he was fairly sure the man was deaf. The cops were grateful for the tidbit, and asked if J. had seen the man lately or knew anything else about him. Not really in the last week, but his schedule was weird, etc. etc. and then we learned that the man had been missing from work, and when they couldn't get a hold of him they found it mysterious enough to call the police.

After J. closed the door we had a slightly more difficult time focusing on our silly game, although, I believe that was the one that boyfriend and I won. For a moment it seemed the police and given up, but we quickly realized their car was still in the lot. Were they waiting for a warrant? Maybe, but they were also waiting for the landlord to come and unlock the door. When we heard knocking again we had to check, and the officers were back with the landlord in tow. When I peeped the scene they had opened the door about a foot and were looking in with their flashlights.

The feeling, and smell, of the situation changed immensely. When J. popped the door open to try and get a better peek, things were clearly not looking up. The smell was potent and bizarre, but not as disgusting as I would have expected, and the tense air had given way to acceptance of the inevitable.

When the officers reappeared in the shared hallway, J. asked if the man was gone, the officer replied with a, "well, I'm no doctor, but yeah," and he mentioned that there didn't seem to be any foul play. Once the coroner arrived and pronounced him dead, all our moods changed in different ways. J. seemed weirded out by the dead body across the hall, B. seemed to get sad and called her mom, who works in a hospital and sees death every day, and boyfriend seemed very nonchalant about the whole thing. I, on the other hand, wanted to know who this man was, what had happened. Was it accidental? Natural? Intentional? How did death sweep in and take him from his reality? Did he have family? Or children? All I know about him is that he is now dead, he had probably been deaf, lived alone, and, according to J., looked to be in his early 50s.

We drank a beer and clinked bottles to the neighbor. I don't know what time the police left, or when the body was removed, but boyfriend and I left at about 3am, with the squad car still sitting outside. Despite all the weirdness, we had a really good night with really good friends. We have amazing families and lots of people who care about us. Without any knowledge of his personal life, I can say that the neighbor was at least lucky enough to have someone in his life who noticed and was concerned when he wasn't reachable. Somehow, I think that's all we really want, is someone to notice when we're not around. Whether that man knew it or not, someone cared enough to take notice. Cheers to that.

Rest in peace, mysterious neighbor.
<3

funk, spunk, and inspiration

I haven't felt like blogging in ages, and of course, at the moment, I'm on a time restraint. This time of year is hard for me. For some reason it is in February and March that I have most of my "existential crisis" days. I know most people deal with that stuff at their birthday, when they're starting a new year, identifying themselves as a new age, feeling the force of change and risking stagnation, but for me, the end of winter is when things seem bleakest.

Last year's existential crisis ended in me transferring to two new locations for work because I was simply that unhappy with my lot. This year I knew somewhere in the back of my mind that things weren't that bad, and that if I could just grit my teeth and muscle through it everything would end up coming together. So I did, and it has. The piece I'm still struggling with is that nothing has actually changed beyond my own perception. 

Of course, I'm not out of the woods. I'm pretty good at throwing myself for a loop on the regular. But I've been having a pretty damn good week and I'm feeling more invigorated and inspired than I have in a while. I've got one little art project on the horizon that I'm really excited about. I've finally got the motivation to get the things I need for my sewing project that's been sitting in the corner for months. I've got some ideas for other sewing projects that I'm really excited about. Will I have the time and energy to actually do all this? A girl can dream. :)

<3 pennilane

bucky balls and british television

I've become a little distracted... now that I don't have a set formula for what this blog is supposed to be, I've let it fall to a state of disrepair, if you will. I haven't forgotten it, in fact I think about posting at least once a day, I just can't think of anything worth posting.

I can think of awesome things to do with my Bucky Balls over and over and over again, however. Magnets are awesome. If you don't know what Bucky Balls are, look them up, go buy some, go play with the ones at Brookstone. Seriously. Awesome. I've gotten really good at the ball made of tiny triangles. I kind of want to buy the book when it comes out. Sad? yes. Awesome anyway? Absolutely.

I can also think of so many awesome reasons to watch as many episodes of Downton Abbey on pbs.org as possible. I've watched the first 2 episodes and I'm completely hooked. Part of me wants to watch all the episodes at once, forget sleep and work and food, and part of me wants to watch them slowly and catch up right as season two ends, that way I only have to deal with one really long cliffhanger instead of a whole bunch of short ones... I can't get over the characters and the costumes and the social aspects of the time period. I can't believe that life was so different only 100 years ago.

I need to start reading again. I'm so terrified of being consumed by a book that I'll miss something else though. At least with silly tv shows and some magnets I can multitask. I also need to start going to bed earlier again. I'm exhausted. But the only time I get to sit quietly in the same room as my boyfriend, unless we're both sleeping, is late at night... I could have much worse things to complain about.

<3 pennilane

Kittens, Siblings, Bowling, & Barracks - a work of fiction

Fuck, bowling is dull. Why did I ever let Frankie talk me into joining this league? My stupid idiot brother and his stupid idiot friends... couldn't they find one more idiot to fill the roster? I guess I AM the idiot, after all, I agreed to bowl with these stooges every week.

"Oh, Thomas, it'll be great! Just like old times!"

"Old times? We never went bowling together. What the hell are you talking about?"

"Well, not OUR old times, but MY old times... in the barracks in England all the guys would line up their shaving cream bottles and we'd use just about anything round to throw at the bottles like we was bowling! Its how we managed to get through those years without going bored to death."

"Psh." I rolled my eyes at him. "Fine."

I can't even hear myself think between the constant hum of the ball returns, the crashing and cheering every time a ball makes it to the end of a lane, and all those assholes throwing back cold ones like they won't feel it in the morning. And Frankie too, drinking himself even more stupid. I can't drink like that. I can't drink at all. Doesn't matter how good it tastes going down, it always takes me to places I'd rather keep forgotten.

Frankie may have been in the Air Force and put in a lot of hard work, but he never saw a real war. He was too young. By the time I got home from Germany Frankie was already in basic training, but the war was over. Keeping sane in the barracks for him meant drinking and bowling and acting like a clown. Keeping sane in the camp for me meant learning to sleep with my eyes open, and keeping the other guys at an arms length because you never knew who was gonna make it back at the end of the day.

I think the only moment of calm I knew in those years was when I was out on trash duty, keeping our living space as clean as it could be in those conditions. I moved a box that had been tossed behind a tent and found a litter of kittens mewing softly. I'm guessing the mother was out, looking for food, but the kittens all seemed well-enough fed to be healthy. Only one of them didn't flinch when I reached towards them, so I scratched him behind the ears and was suddenly 13 and back home on my porch, discovering the litter of kittens that our house cat had managed to hide from us.

By the next day the kittens were gone. I was never sure if someone scared them off, or if the mother cat moved them to a safer place.

"Eh Thomas, your throw buddy!"

"My throw. Right." Idiots.