Before we leave, it's been insisted that we create a will.
My original thought was to just mess with everyone. I think that will take years, though, to figure out. I want to exact subtle revenge on people through my will, but I want it to be perfect. I want them to laugh when they figure out why they've been gifted what they've been gifted, and I want them to love me all the more for my horrid sense of humor.
The only problem seems to be that I have no earthly possessions to disperse and no real desire to be resuscitated past the logical points.
So here's this, just in case the will is improperly notarized or something:
Resuscitate me, sort of. Wait long enough to make sure I'm really brain dead before you pull the plug. And I mean long enough. (Like three months, if it's not too much to ask. Unless insurance won't cover it and in that case, stop supporting my breathing and metabolizing of liquids as soon as the coverage stops. It's not worth it if I'm not coming back.) Donate all of my organs (at least the usable ones). Plastination (the Body Worlds thing) is not an option, don't even think about it.
Power of attorney and such : Mom.
I keep joking with Mom that I'm going to give Cat to her, but in all honesty, I love my cat way too much for that to happen. Give him to someone who will love him, maybe Dad.
Simon can go to Madeline Hosanna, because she'll adore him. (Mom's name is on the title as well as mine, so maybe in the end, she'll want to keep him.)
Send Hunter my Tarot cards, just to freak him out.
Make sure that my voodoo doll is always facing some sort of south, if possible, or a window. He's particular about those things.
Don't bury me with shoes or socks on. Seriously. I won't be able to sleep. But do bury me with Buddy, my childhood Teddy bear (yes, the capitalization is proper).
Or, don't bury me at all and spread my ashes in Chicago, by the lake, near the L tracks, on Lake Shore Drive, and at Red Rocks, in the cemetery there or somewhere in the mountains, and then downtown. Don't have me compressed into jewelry.
There's a catch to the ash thing and that's the statue. I want a statue. Huge. (I mean, life size or better.) Of an angel that magically resembles me. She's wearing a toga-like Greek dress and holding a book and a pen and smiling and has humongous wings. And she's barefoot. And her hair is down and wild. That's the only way you can cremate me. Give me a sweet statue with some strange quotes or life facts. I want people who see it to wonder who I was in real life and then Google me.
Give all of my possessions to people who need them. Give Grandma my rings, she knows how much they mean to me.
My diaries and writings all belong to Mom, who should do something with them. Don't burn them.
She can have my Birkenstocks, too. But my mountain backpack should go somewhere wonderful.
Give Mike my cell phone, he'll break his and need the extras. He'll want my laptop, too.
Now for the particular stuff I'll be quite upset if you don't follow:
My funeral should be a party. Seriously. Two drink minimum. And then the speeches can begin. At first I thought it might be nice to have a posthumous roast, but then I decided I'd rather you all pretend I have no flaws and instead, give drunken speeches toasting my accomplishes (including my ability to use the English language correctly) - accomplishments, sorry, my adventures and my spirit. So I think everyone should have two strong drinks (at least, but if you have more don't drive) and then tell funny, touching, or just plain beautiful stories about me. Obviously you'd be doing that anyway, it's my funeral/wake/after party. And wear black, or don't. If you're up to it, maybe it should be a fancy dress and/or costume party. But maybe not. Tears are hell on silk.
If it's cheaper, feel free to buy my casket at Costco.
There. Done.
Will created, sort of. (I'm sure lawyers would look at this and laugh, but it's here and it's in my hand - as much as typing from your blog can be considered in your own hand.)
Also, did you know that Mike is worth more than me on life insurance? How unfair is that?
Friday, August 20, 2010
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Reflections
If only.....
....a million different things.
Sometimes what is right and what we want are two separate things, and I believe that to define maturity might be defining the ability to understand and separate the two separate things.
And if not that, then what?
Is it all worth it in the end?
What if we aren't supposed to pretend, and instead we're supposed to tell the truth and go with what could be?
Ha, not at all. We can't be.
But what is now is now and perhaps won't ever shall be, but with life stretching seemingly long before me, I'm off to explore the great unknowns of heart, and mind, and soul. And I'll come back complete and satisfied, a trail of lost and longing loves behind me, although I'll be buoyed by my expanses of knowledge and experiences and the depths of my own emotions. I will have loved deeply and lost immensely, gained more than that and fallen deeply into fits of both melancholy and exuberance.
I will have lived.
I will have conquered the unconquerable, my own heart, and mind, and soul. And then all will be well.
And whoever stands at the end of that contentment shall have me in all of my unconquerable glory.
....a million different things.
Sometimes what is right and what we want are two separate things, and I believe that to define maturity might be defining the ability to understand and separate the two separate things.
And if not that, then what?
Is it all worth it in the end?
What if we aren't supposed to pretend, and instead we're supposed to tell the truth and go with what could be?
Ha, not at all. We can't be.
But what is now is now and perhaps won't ever shall be, but with life stretching seemingly long before me, I'm off to explore the great unknowns of heart, and mind, and soul. And I'll come back complete and satisfied, a trail of lost and longing loves behind me, although I'll be buoyed by my expanses of knowledge and experiences and the depths of my own emotions. I will have loved deeply and lost immensely, gained more than that and fallen deeply into fits of both melancholy and exuberance.
I will have lived.
I will have conquered the unconquerable, my own heart, and mind, and soul. And then all will be well.
And whoever stands at the end of that contentment shall have me in all of my unconquerable glory.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Apple and Dad: Good deeds gone afoul
My father and I have an interesting relationship, to say the least.
It's been twenty two years of ups and more downs, a relationship plagued with guilt and pity and fear and anger.
Of course, neither of us intend to do the other any real harm, but the physical and emotional reactions that I have to that man are hard to calm. It's curious, really, and it's something that's taken me forever to even be able to manage. I'm still not there yet.
I get anxious, physically unable to sit still, mentally unnerved, and outwardly curt. These reactions happen within seconds of any comment that my brain fields as an attack. Usually, I am able to curtail these changes by removing myself from the situation. Sometimes, however, that is impossible and deep breathing has never been one of my specialties, leading to the outbursts and the blowups that seem to mark our interactions.
While I was camping, Dad thought it would be nice to take my computer into the Apple store to see what might be done about the screen issue. (I had cracked the screen, of course, and had it quoted to see what it would cost to fix, and the quote was over $800...since the computer was still usable and fine, I decided not to even bother, especially since 800 is more than I could ever get together at this point in my life.) They agreed to fix it. For free.
Grateful, yes, but upset also.
Again, the invasion of privacy issue began to irk me, and it stayed with me even after the tears had dried. Although he had the best of intentions, I was and still am upset by the fact that he removed my computer without asking. I've nearly had enough of people touching my computers while I'm out of town; the things that could go wrong seem to multiply and are the stuff of nightmares.
Of course, there was a blowup.
The first came after I returned; it was soft, perhaps a category two hurricane. Nothing came of it, but words were exchanged as I attempted to voice my concerns.
Upon the computer's completion, we made plans to go and get it. I've left out a crucial part of the story: illegal software. I had some of it on my computer, and had I known that it was going to be taken in to be serviced, I would have removed it. This would save me from having to suffer through a potentially embarrassing lecture. (I'm quite sensitive to criticism, it's not something that serves me well and it's something I'm hoping to do better with in the future.) Either way, I was apprehensive to retrieve the computer from the evil Apple employees bent on destroying their customers. (well...)
We attempted to leave in one car. I refused. Sometimes, you don't exactly return to where you started when you expect that you might or for hours after. I get upset. I have things to do, and even if I don't, not having that freedom is a very constricting feeling to experience.
One of the big things that I try to keep enacting in my relationship with my father is to have space between us, and a lot of that is my ability to remain my own agent of motion. That is why Simon and I are best friends. With him, I am able to move freely between places and of my own accord.
So when Dad insisted that we take one car, I freaked out.
No. I'd prefer that you respect my wishes.
No.
There were words exchanged, fueling a situation that had already become nearly category 4. Serious business. I knew there was no going back, there never is.
There wasn't.
It ended with us going our separate ways, now on a desperate drive to reach Cherry Creek Mall before the other one. We met there and retrieved the computer. There were words exchanged, more of those pesky things. They hurt sometimes.
I am upset that he accuses me of being a nasty ungrateful person and he's hurt that I'm holding onto the privacy thing.
Reviewing the situation is tough for me. I acted immaturely. I let my emotions get the best of me. I shouldn't have. This is something that I strive to fix, although the summer has been remarkably free of incident. To have made it six weeks is somewhat of an anomaly, so I'll take it. I'm afraid that this repair is going to be held over my head for quite awhile and I detest that.
However, the incident serves as a reminder that no matter how mature I'd like to pretend I am, I still have a lot of learning to do. I have a lot of focusing to practice and perhaps that deep breathing to master.
Either way, I'm wildly grateful for the way my computer looks now; the screen is gorgeous and the new top (which was unnecessary) is gorgeous also. I'm alright with these things.
I'm not alright with how the situation went down (happened). I should have been calmer, I should have just taken my computer with me.
It's been twenty two years of ups and more downs, a relationship plagued with guilt and pity and fear and anger.
Of course, neither of us intend to do the other any real harm, but the physical and emotional reactions that I have to that man are hard to calm. It's curious, really, and it's something that's taken me forever to even be able to manage. I'm still not there yet.
I get anxious, physically unable to sit still, mentally unnerved, and outwardly curt. These reactions happen within seconds of any comment that my brain fields as an attack. Usually, I am able to curtail these changes by removing myself from the situation. Sometimes, however, that is impossible and deep breathing has never been one of my specialties, leading to the outbursts and the blowups that seem to mark our interactions.
While I was camping, Dad thought it would be nice to take my computer into the Apple store to see what might be done about the screen issue. (I had cracked the screen, of course, and had it quoted to see what it would cost to fix, and the quote was over $800...since the computer was still usable and fine, I decided not to even bother, especially since 800 is more than I could ever get together at this point in my life.) They agreed to fix it. For free.
Grateful, yes, but upset also.
Again, the invasion of privacy issue began to irk me, and it stayed with me even after the tears had dried. Although he had the best of intentions, I was and still am upset by the fact that he removed my computer without asking. I've nearly had enough of people touching my computers while I'm out of town; the things that could go wrong seem to multiply and are the stuff of nightmares.
Of course, there was a blowup.
The first came after I returned; it was soft, perhaps a category two hurricane. Nothing came of it, but words were exchanged as I attempted to voice my concerns.
Upon the computer's completion, we made plans to go and get it. I've left out a crucial part of the story: illegal software. I had some of it on my computer, and had I known that it was going to be taken in to be serviced, I would have removed it. This would save me from having to suffer through a potentially embarrassing lecture. (I'm quite sensitive to criticism, it's not something that serves me well and it's something I'm hoping to do better with in the future.) Either way, I was apprehensive to retrieve the computer from the evil Apple employees bent on destroying their customers. (well...)
We attempted to leave in one car. I refused. Sometimes, you don't exactly return to where you started when you expect that you might or for hours after. I get upset. I have things to do, and even if I don't, not having that freedom is a very constricting feeling to experience.
One of the big things that I try to keep enacting in my relationship with my father is to have space between us, and a lot of that is my ability to remain my own agent of motion. That is why Simon and I are best friends. With him, I am able to move freely between places and of my own accord.
So when Dad insisted that we take one car, I freaked out.
No. I'd prefer that you respect my wishes.
No.
There were words exchanged, fueling a situation that had already become nearly category 4. Serious business. I knew there was no going back, there never is.
There wasn't.
It ended with us going our separate ways, now on a desperate drive to reach Cherry Creek Mall before the other one. We met there and retrieved the computer. There were words exchanged, more of those pesky things. They hurt sometimes.
I am upset that he accuses me of being a nasty ungrateful person and he's hurt that I'm holding onto the privacy thing.
Reviewing the situation is tough for me. I acted immaturely. I let my emotions get the best of me. I shouldn't have. This is something that I strive to fix, although the summer has been remarkably free of incident. To have made it six weeks is somewhat of an anomaly, so I'll take it. I'm afraid that this repair is going to be held over my head for quite awhile and I detest that.
However, the incident serves as a reminder that no matter how mature I'd like to pretend I am, I still have a lot of learning to do. I have a lot of focusing to practice and perhaps that deep breathing to master.
Either way, I'm wildly grateful for the way my computer looks now; the screen is gorgeous and the new top (which was unnecessary) is gorgeous also. I'm alright with these things.
I'm not alright with how the situation went down (happened). I should have been calmer, I should have just taken my computer with me.
Monday, August 16, 2010
For tonight, there is only emotional exhaustion to blame for my lack of blogging ability.
http://katiebarryincapetown.blogspot.com/ (It's got a sort of actual post about things relevant to my life currently.)
I've been on the go since I got back to Denver. I've done wonderful things with wonderful people and I've had a great time.
I miss Chicago. It tears at me sometimes, but then I think of how nice it is to be here and I'm just grateful that I got the chance to experience such a beautiful and dramatic place.
I hope to not fall in love with too much of the world; I already find it hard to think of the places that I'd like to live someday.
I hope to stay in love in the way that I am now. It's tender and new but it's also fulfilling and correct. (Correct is phonetically sharp word but I love the way it fits there. This is nothing if not correct.) There's no inequality or untruth; it simply is a connection that is quickly building on experiences and shared thoughts. It's comfortable and exciting and new and so very old. It's my first kiss and my last, and it's nothing I can quite wrap my head around.
I hope to find the things I'm looking for when I'm in Cape Town. I want to find myself and my ability; I want to find confidence for employment and skill sets.
I want to read and write and fall in love with another city so that someday I won't know where I want to live.
I want to be safe and happy.
Tomorrow I'll write about the slight emotional block that has prevented me from thinking clearly tonight, but it should be insightful and promising, I hope. Revealing, perhaps.
http://katiebarryincapetown.blogspot.com/ (It's got a sort of actual post about things relevant to my life currently.)
I've been on the go since I got back to Denver. I've done wonderful things with wonderful people and I've had a great time.
I miss Chicago. It tears at me sometimes, but then I think of how nice it is to be here and I'm just grateful that I got the chance to experience such a beautiful and dramatic place.
I hope to not fall in love with too much of the world; I already find it hard to think of the places that I'd like to live someday.
I hope to stay in love in the way that I am now. It's tender and new but it's also fulfilling and correct. (Correct is phonetically sharp word but I love the way it fits there. This is nothing if not correct.) There's no inequality or untruth; it simply is a connection that is quickly building on experiences and shared thoughts. It's comfortable and exciting and new and so very old. It's my first kiss and my last, and it's nothing I can quite wrap my head around.
I hope to find the things I'm looking for when I'm in Cape Town. I want to find myself and my ability; I want to find confidence for employment and skill sets.
I want to read and write and fall in love with another city so that someday I won't know where I want to live.
I want to be safe and happy.
Tomorrow I'll write about the slight emotional block that has prevented me from thinking clearly tonight, but it should be insightful and promising, I hope. Revealing, perhaps.
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