The rescue chemo held back the tumor for a week, but it raged back, growing to three times its size in two weeks. It took his ability to eat, to enjoy being touched, to breathe comfortably. He left us when he knew we were taken care of, when Derek assured him that he would be okay without his little boy. He left us quietly, gently, with the dignity that he always embodied.
Bad news today. Feeling sort of horrible and exhausted and uncomprehending. The last being ridiculous because it’s not like we didn’t know this was coming. Especially after the recurrence of the cancer in January.
But, oh, that does not make it one bit easier. Not one bit.
I kind of want one if it would take me back to the time when these fabulous commercials would interrupt As The World Turns which I watched in a decongestant haze on the couch while my mom made me buttery alphabet noodles out in the kitchen.
Life is a merry-go-round. Like the kind where you get on, chose the perfect horse, and start spinning, only to realize that you’ve had three sticks of cotton candy, ice cream, AND all those nachos, and while they were all delightful going down, they won’t be at all fun coming back up which is exactly what’s going to happen in a few moments.
There was a time in American history, a dark and unsettling time, when varied and inappropriate persons decided to join in the newest pop culture trend: in other words, white people tried to rap. And too often, they did it in order to sell stuff.
Let’s explore this uncomfortable phenomenon.
First, let’s take a moment to remember what the real rappers were doing in the late 80s. Enjoy Eazy-E, and note that by no means is the song after the fold safe for work:
I hate to see this Month of Madness go, I really do. It’s been hard at time, to sit down for yet another movie, to put D through yet another movie, and to watch yet another movie I didn’t mean to watch at all because the planning of all this got the best of me and I forgot to have something I really, really wanted to watch on hand.
And so, we made it to the last week. The last week of D asking me “did you watch your movie today?” as if reminding me of my vitamins; the last week of scouring Netflix, the library, and The Internet Archive for last-minute movies when my plan for the night went awry (or I just changed my mind); the last week of my super, even uber-cute Halloween blog theme; the last week of feeling utterly and delightfully self-indulgent.
Really, I feel like the boat is about to tip over. It’s October 30? 30? Here I am in the stretchiest home stretch and I’m a little panicked. Have I missed a day? No? Have I written an entry for each one? No. Can I manage to catch up on all of the reviews in under 30 seconds? Let’s try:
I mean, I know we need November (D’s birthday, and all that big old turkey feed) and December and everything, but my gosh, I love you and I want you to stay. I’ve spent each of your days watching fabulous (or fabulously awful) movies and doing those little things that only seem, well, social appropriate in this one month a year: eating mini Reese’s cups by the bucketful, using the term “spooktacular,” and screaming at men in the dark.
Thanks for dropping by. I'm Meg, and I write offbeat stories about media and the culture that shapes us.
I have one foot firmly planted in today and one in a pink kitchen in a suburb in 1957. It's not that I want to live in the past; I just love the aprons. I also have a thing for horror movies.
There was a time in American history, a dark and unsettling time, when varied and inappropriate persons decided to join in the newest pop culture trend: in other words, white people tried to rap. And too often, they did it in order to sell stuff.
I hate to see this Month of Madness go, I really do. It’s been hard at time, to sit down for yet another movie, to put D through yet another movie, and to watch yet another movie I didn’t mean to watch at all because the planning of all this got the best of me and I forgot to have something I really, really wanted to watch on hand.
And so, we made it to the last week. The last week of D asking me “did you watch your movie today?” as if reminding me of my vitamins; the last week of scouring Netflix, the library, and 
Really, I feel like the boat is about to tip over. It’s October 30? 30? Here I am in the stretchiest home stretch and I’m a little panicked. Have I missed a day? No? Have I written an entry for each one? No. Can I manage to catch up on all of the reviews in under 30 seconds? Let’s try:
Thanks for dropping by. I'm Meg, and I write offbeat stories about media and the culture that shapes us.
