I’ve been riding the bus for a week to be nice to my ankle. Waiting for the bus is one of the hardest parts of the day in relation to my father, although I suppose the bike ride in was hard as well. Remembering Dad when I visited in November is how I mostly remember him. The week before he died doesn’t serve much as a memory of him, but the last day definitely does.

I have a very distinct memory of my mother and I sitting on the bed with my father. Despite the northwest exposure of the spare bedroom he was in on the first floor, there was a lot of sunlight in the room. He hadn’t spoken for a while and barely moved. He was laid back with a couple pillows propping him up a bit and blankets neatly tucked around him. He looked old far beyond his years. He would sometimes open and close his mouth a couple of times, like old men do, making a moistening sound. I looked down, and there was a tear running from his eye. I felt an acceptance in him, comfort, maybe regret. Maybe these were feelings I was feeling and imposing on him.

This memory is really hard for me. It is the final good memory I have of him, so it carries upon it the burden of all the feelings related to his death. It makes me incredibly sad and pulls away from me the comforts of the distraction of going through the routine of another day. One foot. Then another. One day. Then another. Do what is important. Make progress. And Love.

someone I knew asked me if I knew what Loft Ninjas was because he had found a sticker on Happytown Road

That would be this. Oh life.

Also, I dreamt of both my father and L last night. Fantasy is unstable these days.

Every once in a while I have a moment where a still memory, like a photograph, matches up with the stream of reality. It is a deja vu feeling that is a bit unsettling. I just had one. In my memory, I left my job in the midst of some open-source work and was worried about it still getting upstream. I don’t know. Today has been emotional.

It’s like a Monday, but a little further.

Lots to think about today. It’s not being lonely, it’s that I’m alone. I have so much to say and share! Interesting that I’m so specific about who I share it with, usually with people I hope to know better than those I already know. I’ve been uncomfortably and awkwardly interacting with M and getting a good fill. I can’t really take myself seriously, because I’m being a bit absurd. Or rather, perhaps, I’m maintaining some defensive humility through humor. Under the circumstances, I’ll take what I can get and be happy with it. I’m reluctant to push too hard still. It would be great to have someone to take care of me, of my heart, right now.

Dreams of Z.

*sigh*

Dilbert.

I’m addicted to the internet because it’s more interesting than people. Is there a pill you can give to everyone else to make them more interesting?

I don’t generally find people interesting, perhaps unless I’m attracted to them or I’m drunk. It’s not that I’m more interesting than they are, I think, it’s just that I’m not generally that interested in what people have to say. I suppose it has a lot to do with my learning style, where I learn what I’m interested in at the time, not what happens to be the topic of conversation. Maybe though, I just prefer building and fixing to talking.

Also, my ankle still hurts, but I’m not going to die.

I think I might have broken my ankle. Ugh. It hurts and it’s almost impossible to find a way to sit so it doesn’t. I could barely hobble to the bureau to get the ibuprofen and I don’t think it is helping at all.

I’m kind of a physical wreck, actually, and finding it impossible to sleep between two or three things.

When I talked to R earlier about the time since I returned from Maine, she brought up how I text messaged her one night when I was out drinking just to say hi, and how that was a bit of surprise. Or something. I was sitting here whining internally about the pain and discomfort and I thought about texting her. That’d be, bad, I guess. That’s hard.

I’m reminded of conversations with J about whether I’d let someone take care of me or not and how people sometimes get the false impression that I wouldn’t. And I think about M writing about being hurt and the poor boys that had to look after her and feeling affectionate toward her. Meh. Tonight kinda sucks now.

After a long conversation with R tonight, I tinkered with the XT a bit to clear my mind. On Monday I had gone over to the welding shop to add some permanent brackets for the turn signals, and I also managed to find the intermittent electrical problem with one of the turn signals. Tonight I fixed the neutral sensor switch; a shorted wire from when I pulled the cover on that side to replace the gasket when L and I did the kickstarter work.

This inspired me to go out for a ride. A friend from out of town was supposed to get a hold of me, but I never heard from him, so I checked foursquare and headed off to Metrix to see old friends from hacknight. At the end of the alley a car was crossing so I turned and braked on the hump, which slid the front wheel and I dropped the bike on my left ankle. It’s pretty sore right now. Not to be dissuaded, I got back up and continued on my mission. It was good to see old friends again.

I made a comment to R tonight about how although I didn’t know the extent, I had been planning the trip home to take care of my father when we were getting ready for dinner the first weekend we hung out. Life is crazy.

I joked with J that I’m probably better off having crushes than anything else. Which is interesting. The implication tends to be that one creates a fantasy about what someone is like and what life with them would be like early on, and then is disappointed. I wonder how true that is for other people, because I don’t think it is for me. Perhaps I’m just hopeful, and life kicks me in the shins.

Well. Plenty to do tomorrow.

It’s weird and sad to not talk to my Dad on the phone every week anymore.