Eric,
I NEED you to get word to me that you're ok. I can't handle another night of laying awake and worrying, not knowing where you are or if you're ok. I understand you're in transit. But please do what you can. I'm not handling this well. Kuba spent all night trying to talk about you coming back, trying to get me excited for it, and I can't do that yet. I can't get my hopes up yet, because if it doesn't happen, it will crush me. He's excited to get to see the ceremonies and welcome you guys home. He keeps saying "to show your support". Support of our troops doesn't mean hanging a flag on the 4th of july or clapping when someone is being recognized. People may think it's patriotic to show up and hug a veteran, make them feel like they've done a good deed. Where were these people when fathers missed the birth of their children, their first steps, first words? Supporting you has been my every day reality for a year and a half. I may not have a 50 foot american flag in my yard, but I have all the love in my heart saved for one soldier. I was faithful to a man halfway across the world and fighting for a cause neither of us believed in, but for a country we love. One day of parades and floats doesn't show your support of veterans. Shovel an injured soldier's walk, volunteer to babysit so he can have a night out with his wife.
I guess I'm just tired of people suddenly thinking I should be excited for you to come home, or grateful for what you do. I've been LIVING those things for the last year and a half. Because I stuck. I'm still here. I can't think about that day yet, because I know the military and the date will change. I won't let it crush me. I understand their desire for the spectacle, though. It's appreciation for those who don't want to ACTUALLY get their hands dirty. But we've been in the mud since day one. I don't want one day in red, white, and blue with you, Eric. I couldn't care less about the decorations or circumstances. I want forever in your arms. And I need to hear from you to know that I'm not hanging my hopes on a pipe dream. I need to know you're still coming back. Because I don't want to do this without you. You're the reason I'm here.
So please... Come home soon.
Keila
Friday, January 15, 2010
"Patriotic" doesn
Eric,
I NEED you to get word to me that you're ok. I can't handle another night of laying awake and worrying, not knowing where you are or if you're ok. I understand you're in transit. But please do what you can. I'm not handling this well. Kuba spent all night trying to talk about you coming back, trying to get me excited for it, and I can't do that yet. I can't get my hopes up yet, because if it doesn't happen, it will crush me. He's excited to get to see the ceremonies and welcome you guys home. He keeps saying "to show your support". Support of our troops doesn't mean hanging a flag on the 4th of july or clapping when someone is being recognized. People may think it's patriotic to show up and hug a veteran, make them feel like they've done a good deed. Where were these people when fathers missed the birth of their children, their first steps, first words? Supporting you has been my every day reality for a year and a half. I may not have a 50 foot american flag in my yard, but I have all the love in my heart saved for one soldier. I was faithful to a man halfway across the world and fighting for a cause neither of us believed in, but for a country we love. One day of parades and floats doesn't show your support of veterans. Shovel an injured soldier's walk, volunteer to babysit so he can have a night out with his wife.
I guess I'm just tired of people suddenly thinking I should be excited for you to come home, or grateful for what you do. I've been LIVING those things for the last year and a half. Because I stuck. I'm still here. I can't think about that day yet, because I know the military and the date will change. I won't let it crush me. I understand their desire for the spectacle, though. It's appreciation for those who don't want to ACTUALLY get their hands dirty. But we've been in the mud since day one. I don't want one day in red, white, and blue with you, Eric. I couldn't care less about the decorations or circumstances. I want forever in your arms. And I need to hear from you to know that I'm not hanging my hopes on a pipe dream. I need to know you're still coming back. Because I don't want to do this without you. You're the reason I'm here.
So please... Come home soon.
Keila
I NEED you to get word to me that you're ok. I can't handle another night of laying awake and worrying, not knowing where you are or if you're ok. I understand you're in transit. But please do what you can. I'm not handling this well. Kuba spent all night trying to talk about you coming back, trying to get me excited for it, and I can't do that yet. I can't get my hopes up yet, because if it doesn't happen, it will crush me. He's excited to get to see the ceremonies and welcome you guys home. He keeps saying "to show your support". Support of our troops doesn't mean hanging a flag on the 4th of july or clapping when someone is being recognized. People may think it's patriotic to show up and hug a veteran, make them feel like they've done a good deed. Where were these people when fathers missed the birth of their children, their first steps, first words? Supporting you has been my every day reality for a year and a half. I may not have a 50 foot american flag in my yard, but I have all the love in my heart saved for one soldier. I was faithful to a man halfway across the world and fighting for a cause neither of us believed in, but for a country we love. One day of parades and floats doesn't show your support of veterans. Shovel an injured soldier's walk, volunteer to babysit so he can have a night out with his wife.
I guess I'm just tired of people suddenly thinking I should be excited for you to come home, or grateful for what you do. I've been LIVING those things for the last year and a half. Because I stuck. I'm still here. I can't think about that day yet, because I know the military and the date will change. I won't let it crush me. I understand their desire for the spectacle, though. It's appreciation for those who don't want to ACTUALLY get their hands dirty. But we've been in the mud since day one. I don't want one day in red, white, and blue with you, Eric. I couldn't care less about the decorations or circumstances. I want forever in your arms. And I need to hear from you to know that I'm not hanging my hopes on a pipe dream. I need to know you're still coming back. Because I don't want to do this without you. You're the reason I'm here.
So please... Come home soon.
Keila
Thursday, January 7, 2010
You want to kill me? You can't even kill your socks!
Ok, this newest version of the shoe bombing thing… I have to mention it. Not only was it ridiculous that the first guy tried to blow up his feet (which, I can tell you in the stupidest way of trying to kill yourself. They call it “shooting yourself in the foot” for a reason. YOU DON’T DIE. You’re just injured enough that you can’t escape. Which means you DON’T get your virgins, but your virginity will most definitely be threatened. There are 20 tattooed men in the shower waiting to take your ass cherry. FAIL.
But this new version, I’m not going to get into the semantics, we all know the gist of it – the people with the information about who may be dangerous to let into the country weren’t sharing that information with the people who LET PEOPLE IN THE COUNTRY. If you want to find something out about someone, just do what every college kid in America does. Facebook them. It should be part of standard airport security protocol. If their status is “Kaboom”, you may need to “randomly select” him for special screening. “HelGAAAAH! Weev got anozzah vun…” If you have a grown man in front of you with the status of “Mr. Tinkles is at it again! Hahaha What a stinker!” Then you may again need to fear for your ass cherry.
But this new version, I’m not going to get into the semantics, we all know the gist of it – the people with the information about who may be dangerous to let into the country weren’t sharing that information with the people who LET PEOPLE IN THE COUNTRY. If you want to find something out about someone, just do what every college kid in America does. Facebook them. It should be part of standard airport security protocol. If their status is “Kaboom”, you may need to “randomly select” him for special screening. “HelGAAAAH! Weev got anozzah vun…” If you have a grown man in front of you with the status of “Mr. Tinkles is at it again! Hahaha What a stinker!” Then you may again need to fear for your ass cherry.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
"It's so rare to find men that support women so graciously."
I inadvertently began writing my wedding toast...
I have found The One. Mary, Herman, you have raised a son that so graciously supports me, whose presence at once tears my heart and mends it, and who loves me in the manner of which fairy tales were written. I have to laugh when I think about how our relationship started, and how many of the people who know ME best said, "you're doing it again!!" or gave me That Look after I told them Eric is in the military. But we One. On a summer day when I was a little girl, I came inside to see my dad, just in from mowinboth knew from the beginning that THIS... is different. After we jumped out of a plane on our first date, he stood in my doorway with this little grin and told me, "You're worth the wait." Later that week he told me, "I have finally found my equal." That's when I knew: I have found The g the lawn, staring out the window. He was looking at my mother laying outside in the sun, and he had such a look of awe and humility on his face that it was intensely private and passionate moment and I quickly left the room. I'm pretty sure he never knew I saw him. But he had such a look of amazement at knowing that he had somehow been lucky enough to get her, that from that moment forward, I KNEW, "I want a man that will love me like that. I want a man that will look at me like that after 25 years of marriage and 2 kids, I want a man knows I may not be perfect, but I'm perfect for him." I knew I could never settle for less. I've finally found him. Many years and many struggles later, this is a marriage of equals. Eric, we have endured through lonely and difficult times and regardless of what life throws at us, we're in it together. I must warn you, Eric, that I learned from my Mother what marriage and love truly mean, that I will NOT always be your favorite person. But I WILL always be the love of your life. I love you. Now, I struggled with how I'd honor my dad here, considering that our family has now expanded to include the brother and sister I never knew I was missing until I had them and the most giving and loving man I know for a stepfather, but I settled for this: I would like to make a toast. In honor of all those who could not be here tonight, those looking down, those lost before their time. A toast, to the people who taught us to love. A toast, most of all, to the first man I ever loved. Cheers.
I have found The One. Mary, Herman, you have raised a son that so graciously supports me, whose presence at once tears my heart and mends it, and who loves me in the manner of which fairy tales were written. I have to laugh when I think about how our relationship started, and how many of the people who know ME best said, "you're doing it again!!" or gave me That Look after I told them Eric is in the military. But we One. On a summer day when I was a little girl, I came inside to see my dad, just in from mowinboth knew from the beginning that THIS... is different. After we jumped out of a plane on our first date, he stood in my doorway with this little grin and told me, "You're worth the wait." Later that week he told me, "I have finally found my equal." That's when I knew: I have found The g the lawn, staring out the window. He was looking at my mother laying outside in the sun, and he had such a look of awe and humility on his face that it was intensely private and passionate moment and I quickly left the room. I'm pretty sure he never knew I saw him. But he had such a look of amazement at knowing that he had somehow been lucky enough to get her, that from that moment forward, I KNEW, "I want a man that will love me like that. I want a man that will look at me like that after 25 years of marriage and 2 kids, I want a man knows I may not be perfect, but I'm perfect for him." I knew I could never settle for less. I've finally found him. Many years and many struggles later, this is a marriage of equals. Eric, we have endured through lonely and difficult times and regardless of what life throws at us, we're in it together. I must warn you, Eric, that I learned from my Mother what marriage and love truly mean, that I will NOT always be your favorite person. But I WILL always be the love of your life. I love you. Now, I struggled with how I'd honor my dad here, considering that our family has now expanded to include the brother and sister I never knew I was missing until I had them and the most giving and loving man I know for a stepfather, but I settled for this: I would like to make a toast. In honor of all those who could not be here tonight, those looking down, those lost before their time. A toast, to the people who taught us to love. A toast, most of all, to the first man I ever loved. Cheers.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
More Keila-isms....
Keilaisms:
If "getting your jollies" means "having an orgasm" does that make Hugh Hefner a "Jollies Rancher"?
Would squiggles be what happens when a squid giggles? They DO leak ink...
For the record, David Sedaris is my muse. :) Apparently gay men really do do it for me. haha
Nothing like a good cover-up.
I actually like kid's toys. I'm always excited to get to go to people's houses that have kids. especially if i'm babysitting and I know they won't be back for a few hours after the baby has gone to bed. I'll have a few unsupervised hours to pull ALL of the children's toys out and play with them. I could play with the toys with the child, but I don't like sharing. Something about passing a gooey, saliva-covered block back and forth and suffering the disappointment of their uncoordinated limbs flailing about madly in a poor Michael J. Fox impersonation and knocking over my glorious creations tends to turn me off. Alone after bedtime stories, I revel in the glory of new toys, invariably breaking one or two, but quickly shoving as many as possible back in the toy box upon hearing the garage door opening. When the parents enter the room, the key is to switch the tv to CNN (off of either skinemax or cartoons, depending on your mood), and pretend to be asleep in the armchair. whatever toys are still scattered around are obviously just remnants from your horrific evening with their demon spawn, after enduring which you promptly passed out in front of Nancy Grace. Nothing like a good cover-up.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
You are my restless soul's shelter, my lonely heart's company, and my inquiring mind's ultimate answer.
This year has flown by the fastest of my life. I was so miserable for a few years there... my dad died, i married an asshole, had to try to get divorced, then I was trying to finish school, figure out what i wanted to do, and dating an alcoholic with a gambling problem... misery drags time out.
I've never been this happy. Even with Eric gone, this is the best year of my life. Just having him in my life is enough. I'm grateful we had the time to move at a pace with which we're comfortable - which is this weird fast/slow pace, since we built a house together but haven't had to have roomate arguments yet, etc. anyways, I know I'm going to blink and be 50, and look over at him and squeeze his hand, and realize that time flies when you're happy, and I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. Then I'll blink again, and we'll have grandkids and ... what better way could anything end than hand-in-hand with a friend?
I've never been this happy. Even with Eric gone, this is the best year of my life. Just having him in my life is enough. I'm grateful we had the time to move at a pace with which we're comfortable - which is this weird fast/slow pace, since we built a house together but haven't had to have roomate arguments yet, etc. anyways, I know I'm going to blink and be 50, and look over at him and squeeze his hand, and realize that time flies when you're happy, and I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. Then I'll blink again, and we'll have grandkids and ... what better way could anything end than hand-in-hand with a friend?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)