bitter
Several things.
!) I woke up at 9 today.
Stripes was very pushy and ended up under the blankets, making biscuits on my arm and licking my elbow with her sandpaper tongue. Eventually, I got up to go to the bathroom, blinked at the clock. It's the earliest I've been up in a while, mostly because I went to bed a little earlier than usual.
I hopped right back into bed, watched Stripes chase her mother around, dozed.
@) Since I went to bed early, I missed Darr C.'s call at 1am.
That's around the hour we always talk, when we do. Even two or three years down the line we still don't have each other's email addresses right, or he just never uses it, which sucks.
On my end, I call him when I get the impulse or when I need some distraction to get me out of a funk. He talks a lot, animatedly, about a lot of entertaining things; sometimes he'll annoy me with propositions and flirting, but it's whatever, part of the package. When he calls, it is either a girl problem or something to keep muggers away while he's walking home from the bus stop or train station. That hasn't happened in a while, so I have worried. I called him back and he has class and I have to finish filling out these health insurance forms. Later then.
#) I had a really irritating dream.
Not quite a nightmare, but not very pleasant. All I can remember is this drawn-out part in which my friends are in this small room with me. They're kind of crowded around me, talking over each other. At times it's people I haven't seen in years but mostly I just think of it as the core group--band plus three.
I focus heavily on my bracelets. They're rubber wrist bands that usually come with some slogan that denotes solidarity to this or that. I used to have three but the glow in the dark one (a Safe Halloween campaign thing that said "Glow for Kids") broke and wouldn't fuse together no matter how many times I burned it. All I have is this green one that used to have some college's name on it before its yellow paint wore off and a black "Army Strong" one that I got at the same convention. It just so happens these two are my favorite colors and I didn't have room in my bag that day so I slipped them on and never took them off. I've had them both for at least four years. They're an absent part of me that I feel naked without. They take showers and pictures and wash dishes with me.
In the dream, though, I have a black and red one. The red one has the same little tear in the side that my Army one has; in soft, thick rubber, the tear isn't much as it stops half way through, but I'm right handed and people are rough when things aren't theirs. My last one broke because too many people stretched it or I got caught on too many things.
In the dream, my friends weren't listening. They grabbed at it and pulled. The whole time. I felt it warm and pinch and I watched helplessly and furiously as the tear grew. It finally broke. The wrist band was in too many pieces to be realistic but in dreams that doesn't matter. I was a tired sort of angry. I tried to collect the pieces but I couldn't. My friends did not move and did not see the big deal. One of them, a guy I think (who I haven't seen since middle school), was standing on a piece and would not let up. I was a wreck.
$) When I woke up to go to the bathroom I felt strange.
Nevermind the cat or the early hour or my bladder. In the bathroom, while listening to the Stripes gallop across the hall after her irritated mother, I looked around, beaming at my good work a few nights before. The counters were only a little messy with make-up containers scattered and hair supplies out of order--Ashley had a date-- but the floor and shower were awesome.
And then I saw it. My green bracelet. On the floor. By the sink.
I blinked. I never take it off. I've done more vigorous things than wash my face and it has never--so I just picked it up. Put it on.
This made me wonder if my subconscious had been irked enough to give me that dream, if I was so used to it that its absense was something my mind would notice before I would. Or something.
%) My aunt and cousin, Ash, were home today.
I asked why. Ash informed me it was Vet's day, which I completely forgot about. Again. I felt, again, as if the god of coincidences was planning on always peeing in my breakfast burrito.
The night before I had been reading one of my library books. "Trauma and Recovery". If nothing else, it made me feel better by validating a lot of my issues, but it also upset me a lot (nearly every time I read it). There were several sections that would link a Vet's traumatic reaction to that of some other abused victim/survivor, mainly in terms of support/society. That part clicked for me. There were reasons and explanations and statistics, but the main thing was Vet's felt/feel as if no one wants to listen, even if said person says it. I feel the same way at times. It's a natural response on the survivor's part and the listener's part to be wary of subject matter, but it takes one of them to head in strong, force it out. A lot of the soldiers feel beyond angry when they get home, beyond lonely. I know that. It's only recently that they've gotten help as a garuntee with the package, from my understanding. Post-Vietnam soldiers didn't have that which makes me want to go up to nearest center and just talk with one of them, or go up to Joe (Starr's dad) and tell him to give me the nitty gritty, no stops. Or hug them. NOne of that flowers and speeches stuff.
I wanted to go to the Vet center today anyway but my aunt wanted a girl day.
It has been a plan of mine to go in there and ask for help, counselor-wise, shouldijoinwise, and just for good fun. I'm still on that life-story kick so I'd like to talk to anyone over the age of forty or someone who's done something I havent'. We would all have things in common and I could meet other Brats. It'd be great. Today, though, all I could think about was walking in there with my new Charlie Brown hat, sitting in one of the rooms taking pictures, and then, when it came time to make the toast to fallen soldiers, if it was said just right by the right person, I pictured myself falling apart. Bawling in a room full of strangers. Or walking away. They'd get it either way, I guess.
But, man, those pictures would have been great.
So, um, Go Vets. Stay Vets.
^) We had gone to breakfast before we went shopping.
I normally don't eat breakfast and it usually makes me sick. Worse yet, Ash was set on Vietnamese food. I'd never tried it and agreed out of some twisted form of adventure-seeking, even though I want something familiar if I have to eat when I know I'll get sick. I wanted Korean or something normal like IHOP or even Denny's, they're so fond of that place. I wanted Familiar. She assured me the place was good and I wondered if they even served breakfast stuff.
They didn't. I ate a good "Starterkitmeal" as my aunt called it. I did get sick, but only enough to make me stop eating even though I was hungry.
I remember asking if it was a joke. "We're going to a Vietnamese place today?" My aunt and I laughed at the irony and my cousin didn't get it, not even after the third time we explained it. We ignored other wars and I was so focused on that one because book frequently cited Tim O'Brien and Joe, Starr's dad, never talks about it so I always wonder.
We asked if she even knew what a Vet was.
She said, "An old person who can't get a job because they're messed up in the head from some war, right?"
I couldn't really laugh but I couldn't really explain how wrong, and right, that was.
"Oh! Oh, I get it." When asked what a Vet was again, she fished around, "An old person who survived a few battles."
"There are young people too." I had wanted to mention my dad but I wasn't sure, at the time, how exactly that worked. I thought of Justin and wondered if he counted too, but, no, he hasn't gone anywhere or done anything that I know of, and he's still fresh, active.
"Well, I don't have to go to school, so thank you, Vets."
She meant that as a joke. I know she did.
--
I guess I could have just made the Vet Day post all poetic and cool and nice but I'm in a strange mood. I guess there will be enough of those out there thanking everyone that mine will be the other side of the coin to.
Much love, y'all!