well, that was quick
Okay, so I watched stupid Medical Investigation last night while I was babysitting. Pretty much what I expected. Neal is hot. The show suffers greatly from being a total CSI knock-off, complete with "edgy" visual effects that are supposed to take the viewer into the investigator's mind or something. The best parts were the little micro-scenes we got with Buck Stephen and his son.
Anyway, the point of this fairly meaningless post is not to review this show. It's to say that after one viewing only, Neal McDonough invaded my dreamlife. Sadly, nothing dirty happened.
I'm getting my tickets to France today! In six or so weeks, I will be off to see my sister and her offspring! I miss them so much. I can't believe it's been ten years since I left France and entered actual adult life, or my best facsimile thereof.
I can't believe it's been ten years since a lot of stuff happened. God, but 1994 and 1995 sucked. October 1994-June 1995 were easily the worst months of my life, and I'm sort of amazed I survived at all.
Having survived, I can see that I am a better, happier person for it all. Except for Death of Father. Pretty much wish that hadn't happened. Even that, though...
Obviously, I wish he were still here, but both my mother and I were forced to deal with a lot of our own shit because of his death, and I know that helped me find out how to exist with myself. I was headed for a serious meltdown, even without his unexpected exit, so I probably would have gotten the help that set me on a good path. I just wish he'd been able to see first-hand that I made it out of that stage, and am making a pretty good go of things now.
I feel awful saying it this way, but I think my mother is happier in general since he died. Not in the first five or so years, but recently. I know she misses him terribly. But being on her own forced her out of her inertia and into a more active, social life. She's picked up a group of really good, supportive friends, she's found new ways of expressing herself that are much less isolationist than her needlework was. Our relationship is certainly better than it was ten years ago, though I must give some credit for that to six or seven years of therapy on my part.
Anyway, I don't know why I'm running on about this, when my point was, I'm seeing my sister in six weeks! And my sweet Johanna-bug, and clever, clever Martin, who looks and sounds just like my dad, except he's 10. And my little hobbit-lad Antonin. Yay! I can't wait.
Anyway, the point of this fairly meaningless post is not to review this show. It's to say that after one viewing only, Neal McDonough invaded my dreamlife. Sadly, nothing dirty happened.
I'm getting my tickets to France today! In six or so weeks, I will be off to see my sister and her offspring! I miss them so much. I can't believe it's been ten years since I left France and entered actual adult life, or my best facsimile thereof.
I can't believe it's been ten years since a lot of stuff happened. God, but 1994 and 1995 sucked. October 1994-June 1995 were easily the worst months of my life, and I'm sort of amazed I survived at all.
Having survived, I can see that I am a better, happier person for it all. Except for Death of Father. Pretty much wish that hadn't happened. Even that, though...
Obviously, I wish he were still here, but both my mother and I were forced to deal with a lot of our own shit because of his death, and I know that helped me find out how to exist with myself. I was headed for a serious meltdown, even without his unexpected exit, so I probably would have gotten the help that set me on a good path. I just wish he'd been able to see first-hand that I made it out of that stage, and am making a pretty good go of things now.
I feel awful saying it this way, but I think my mother is happier in general since he died. Not in the first five or so years, but recently. I know she misses him terribly. But being on her own forced her out of her inertia and into a more active, social life. She's picked up a group of really good, supportive friends, she's found new ways of expressing herself that are much less isolationist than her needlework was. Our relationship is certainly better than it was ten years ago, though I must give some credit for that to six or seven years of therapy on my part.
Anyway, I don't know why I'm running on about this, when my point was, I'm seeing my sister in six weeks! And my sweet Johanna-bug, and clever, clever Martin, who looks and sounds just like my dad, except he's 10. And my little hobbit-lad Antonin. Yay! I can't wait.