One thing that I think will help me do that is that I'm going to cancel cable. It's been a fun little vacation time, lo this past year, but forget it. I'd rather have the money. I should read more books. I am loathe to think of the time I've put in in front of the television. On my whiteboard right now is a long, red-lettered list of things I plan to get rid of. On that list is my TV and VCR. My initial reaction to my own suggestion to myself to get rid of these things is to recoil in shock and horror. In fact, I'm not unequivocally sure it will happen even as I write this. However, selling my TV would get me a small chunk of money, a huge chunk of time, and a little bit of room in my apartment. I hope I follow through with it. There's one other thing that's stopping me right now; the Dance Dance Revolution. Heh.
This Friday on the drive down to Norfolk we saw a truck get hit by lightning. Well, tehnically, Jack saw it and I only heard it, but I did see a flash. It was unbelievably loud. The driver seemed OK but was pulling the truck over to the side of the road. Maybe this is something that happens to trucks pretty often.
Friday night I had a dream in which I met Hugh Laurie. The details are quite fuzzy now, but I remember trying desperately to think of something clever to say to him, and talking to him about his friend Stephen Fry's book which I was reading. Then I remember something about being in an amusement park, and Jack and I were trying to get onto a rollercoaster, but Jack had a fight with the attendant guy before we got to the head of the line. I refused to get on the ride because I was sure that the attendant guy would have sabotaged it after the fight.
We had dinner with mom and dad both friday and saturday nights. There is always alot of eating done when I hang out with my parents. I think this is a fine thing. I have no complaints about the visit save not getting to spend enough time with them. We moseyed (mosied?) back to geniealisa's Friday and kibbutzed with some Foster's and ultimately some scotch that my friend Anthony brought over. Despite still being sick and sniffly all weekend, I couldn't help but smoke, as well. Saturday morning we walked down to Chez Powell with the dog and had a nice chat. Sometimes it really is good to see that some things haven't changed, although it's strange how it's not as facile to just 'be around' as it once was. Lucky the cat is still alive, even if Bud and Lady are gone to doggy heaven. On a side note, I know it's sad that Genie is getting a divorce, but frivolously I am glad that she'll be Ms. Powell again. Because I kind of couldn't change that one thing in my mind.
I dragged Jack over to Norfolk Academy for a walk around the campus. It seems they have added about 857328956 memorials to dead students. Now, I'm all for remembering the tragedy of life cut short of its prime, but gosh, at some point it seems like it gets kind of overbearing, and school turns into a scary mausoleum. [ahhh, coworker J just brought me the coffee. excellent.] They have built up the campus so much that there is little room to walk around outside. I'm going to have to go back when school is in session to really explore. Not to mention the fact that now they have a little security guard that rides around on a golf cart; he was very nice when I told him I was an alumni though.
Sunday morning on the way out I caught a quick visit with my grandmother. I still don't know what to make of that at this time. I need to see her more. She was very sweet and gave me an authentically vintage 1960s dress. She had somehow hurt her leg in the past months, and my dad had brought up a walker for her to use. She had left it outside her apartment. She won't use it. I wonder if my generation has less of a sense of stubborn pride; I can't imagine refusing to use something that would probably help me get around better, less painfully, and save me some trouble if something went wrong.
On the way home a thought struck me as I speculated on my desire to get guitar lessons; in one particular way I haven't changed since I was little. I hate doing things alone. I want to have a partner to do things with me. I can't remember a time when this was not true, and while I had thought it had gone away, it seems that it hasn't. My mother always had a devil of a time getting me to do anything, no matter how fun or interesting, unless I could convince a friend to go with me. Piano class, dance lessons, when I got a skateboard, you name it, I always had to get someone to go along. It seems like it's the same now; I'm having a joint birthday party and in that moment I wanted so badly to ask someone to take guitar lessons with me. The fact is that I know that this is something I want to do on my own. I want to do alot of things on my own. If I always do things with someone else, how can I really say I've ever achieved anything myself?