Well, I actually wrote a huge blog last week (Thursday, I think) on the notepad of my dad's desktop. But, of course, as I was about to copy it and go online to post it, the computer froze and ate the whole damn thing. I hadn't saved it (duh) because I was only running frickin' wordpad, and nothing should have crashed it. Argh.

Anyway, to sum up - withdrew from school, did a bunch of stuff, handed Earth over to its new leaders, threw a goodbye party, went home. Monday we talked to the lady from hospice, which was depressing. Tuesday my mom called at 9:45 to wake me up and tell me to turn on the TV, the WTC and the Pentagon were on fire from plane crashes. I watched both towers fall. We watched the news all day - that was even more depressing than Monday. The rest of the week we spent a lot of time watching TV and such, but got back to normal pretty quickly. The social worker came over - Thursday? I think? And that was somewhat depressing too (again, from hospice). I know we have to do this stuff, and it'll help us later, but right now we'd just prefer not to think about what's to come, and go on about our daily lives. I'm pretty good at doing that, I think. My mom's having a rougher time, and of course my dad thinks about it the most. He's having trouble sleeping, and is taking off from work a lot.

Joanne stopped by Sunday with Debbie's homemade chocolate chip cookies (nummy), before she went back to Chapel Hill. We talked about all sorts of stuff (well, she did most of the talking. ;) I don't think I've seen her since she left for Germany... I don't think. Hm. Anyway. Her mom's card came yesterday, it was sweet.

I've been unpacking for the past week or so, getting ready for Bob to come visit (he's in Atlanta now, apparently he didn't have a lot of problems getting in from Saudi Arabia). He'll stay over this weekend. Saturday my sisters are getting me drunk (I turn 21 Saturday night at midnight). Sunday we're seeing a play at the Blumenthal - The Foreigner. Good comic relief. Then we're all going to Bistro East, Kamel's new endeavor, Sunday night for dinner. Tuesday my parents are going to Duke to look for miracles... this past Tuesday the whole gang met at the Mellow Mushroom, across the street from Caron's house. It's a pizzeria/bar place that my parents happened to go to one Tuesday, and they found it was Trivia night. They've played 3 times and loved it - so the 3 of us, Fred and Sheila Dombrose with their eldest, Lisa, Sheri, Doug, and eventually Carol Ann, all converged on an outside patio table. We had (very good) pizza, and everyone else drank one of their 70 beers on tap. After an hour or so, we realized they should have started trivia 1/2 hour ago, and the waitress said that trivia night stopped 2 weeks ago, and won't start again until Spring. Everyone was disappointed. We decided to make our own trivia night next time. Sheri offered to bring her 'Sex edition' of Trivial Pursuit.

Ayako got back from South Africa okay, thank god. Apparently she was frisked quite a few times, and all of her luggage was thoroughly searched. Other people had their scissors confiscated. Caron's been listening to every patriotic song she can find and making more ethnic slurs than usual (that's my girl...) My mom hung her little stuffed lady holding an American flag on our front door, since we can't figure out how to set up our flagpole on plastic columns.

I'm not really in the mood to be posting, so I'll sign off... I'll have to remember to put up that e-mail that basically says Afghanistan is already miserable due to the Taliban, and we can't do anything to them that the Taliban hasn't already done, besides maybe killing more of their widows and disabled orphans. I'm not saying no action is necessary, but I think bombing is stupid. I think cutting off supply lines to the people of Afghanistan is stupid. (By stupid I mean unnecessary, inefficient and cruel.) I think we need to use guerilla warfare and cut down the members of the Taliban one at a time, and get them the fuck out of there. Everyone knows what's been going on there for the last few years, but no one's either had the balls or the charity to take the Taliban out of power.

Anyway... I hope Bush realizes that although the country is asking for action, everyone wants the correct type of action. It's all well and good to say these blanket 'We're gonna kick your ass!' statements, and rally the country behind you and feel all popular, but when it's all over, your actions will be scrutinized. If you destroy Afghanistan, you're not erasing the problem. All you're doing is ruining a country we should be helping out, and allowing the rich, powerful, connected villains who took over it to escape.

My other fear is that it could very well escalate into nuclear or biological warfare. I just hope he's careful.

Well, it has been a while since I've posted, hasn't it. I wonder if I appeared on fucked weblog - probably not enough readers to notice that I'm gone.

A lot has happened in the last three weeks. I left my job unfinished, packed up my Berkeley apartment and went back home to Charlotte. We have a nice new house, small but with lots of good touches. A townhouse, so our patios are shoulder-to-shoulder, and we have no yard to speak of. It was strange taking a different exit off the highway to go home, though. Ah well.

We celebrated my dad's birthday, #54. He got a hand-drawn portrait of our old house, since he liked it so much. Not bad - the angle was kind of weird, but not too bad at all. I brought home sourdough, pistachios, artichokes and avacados. I talked with Sarah D, who has either already or will soon depart for a month in San Francisco, to work in the Prodigal project mission in haight ashbury. Her mother is frantic - Sarah is 18. Her fiancee is 19, and they're both born again Christians who think that God will take care of them. Ah, youth. I told her the horror stories about getting shot with a pellet gun, proposed to by a 70-year old Arabic man, and the random guys trying to get my number or (shudder) give me a ride in their car. She seems sensible enough, just really ignorant from having lived in the suburbs of charlotte all her life.

I packed up all my stuff, we crammed it in a minivan and spent a night at Uncle Bruce's. Laura was supposed to move in that day, and she called me just before midnight to tell me that the house is trashed and the doors are unlocked, with no keys anywhere. Ayako, Laura, and I all discuss it, and I leave a very angry message with our property manager (aka asshole slumlord). After much calling back and forth, they send over 3 guys and a utility truck, and clean the place out over four hours. Mom, Dad and I run around grabbing all the nifty stuff that was left behind (a printer?? a stereo with 3 foot speakers and a turntable, a TV...) and get all my boxes moved in. The cleaning lady comes through and washes the tubs and removes the rotting food from the fridge (we love you cleaning lady), and the house is livable.

I went to my first week of classes - dropped 2 without going, decided to audit the environmental art class. Irish history looked really interesting, and studio looked really cool - I was going to research cargo bikes so I could pick up groceries. I found a bunch of crazy bastards - I can't remember the URL, go to http://www.666inromannumerals.org/chunk/ - it's like dlcmvia or something. They make fucked up bikes. wonderful stuff.

Earth had nearly 30 people show up, we had O pizza, it all looked good. a lot of energy. I spent 150 bucks on books (not bad for 11), English looked like fun. We read a short story about two married people having an affair and falling in love. That night I dreamt my mother was cheating on my dad with some 17 year old grocery boy. I was really, really pissed - not so much that she was cheating on him, more that he was 17. I knew it wasn't fair, but I was a real bitch to both of them. I woke up feeling unsettled and embarassed.

Thursday night I got a weird e-mail from my sister Sarah. We'd been chatting lightly back and forth earlier in the week - on the phone, then funny e-mail forwards. I thought I wouldn't hear from her for a while, but she emails me and says, "How are you doing? If you ever need to talk to someone who's not mom or dad, I'm here for you, okay? Call me any time at (phone numbers). Love Sarah."

I worry about this for a few minutes, wondering what the bad news is. Amanda says, "ask her." So I write back, "Uh, is there something I should know about? Did Dad's catscan not go well?" Dad's trip to the oncologist (sp) the week before wasn't so good, he said a bloodtest went the wrong way for a tumor marker, and they moved the catscan up a few weeks. I immediately think of this.

Sarah rights back, "No, just preparing for the worst. You know." I think it's pretty lame, but I decide to accept it at face value and not worry myself.

Then we get to Friday. I was going to go to campus relatively early so that Earth people could put up the hiking trip fliers for next Sunday. It was about 11 o'clock ( I woke up late), and my dad called. Mom wasn't on the phone with him, like she usually is. This usually means bad news. He said in a sad, strained voice, "Do you have time to talk? I have to tell you about something." Uh oh. He calls back on my recently-hooked up home phone (my cell phone only works in the front yard, damn Sprint's lousy coverage).

"You remember that bloodtest I told you about, that it came back positive for a tumor? Well, they did the catscan, and that spot that they had found on my liver before that they said wasn't cancer - well, it's grown since the last checkup. So, my cancer has spread. They could do operations, but it's probably spread all over my body. They can't do anything. The doctors have given me about six more months."

Here's where I start crying.

"They said I'll have three good months, and then it'll start to affect me, and then I'll have a few more months until.... And there's not really anything they can do. There's some treatment, like pills or chemo, but it'll just maybe add a month or so, and it'll make me feel bad the whole time. I'm going to keep working for a while, to keep up medical insurance, and I have 7 weeks vacation, so I can take off whenever I want to. We'll go on trips and stuff, and I wanted to go to the beach again, near Charleston. I always liked it there, I really enjoy walking on the beach." I remember that he had mentioned this earlier, and my mom chided him, saying that he just wanted it to be like it was before, when all of us were kids. I tightened up even more on the floor and cried harder.

We talked more, about financial things, and possible alternative treatments. I had meant holistic or natural medicine, all the new age stuff I've been hearing about. He thought I meant research hospitals. He'll consider the research stuff but again, thinks it will only worsen his quality of life. I decide to bring up the other stuff later, maybe subtly.

He says I have to talk to my teachers, and decide what I want to do. I say, "I think.... I think I'd rather come home." I know that there's not even a question about it, but I can tell he doesn't want me to. He's proud of what I do up here, and he puts a lot (a little too much) of importance on education. I remember what Ayako said about how she regretted spending three years away from her cat, who she loved like a sister. Her cat died of kidney failure at only 9 years old. She said she was so glad that she was able to see her cat, and say goodbye, but she still wishes she had spent time with them, instead of going to college. I remember the week I took off for my grandfather's funeral freshman year. It made my life hell, but I never regretted it... And I knew I had to come home. My dad says, "I was afraid you'd say that. Well, consider it, and ask your advisor.." etc. etc.

After I get off the phone, I start weeping in earnest, balled up on the floor, mouth open in a silent wail. I stumble around in shock and fall on the couch, cry some more. Think. Think about how much I'll miss him. About how his life is kind of sad, how he worked so hard for so long, and he'll never get to retire. About how lonely mom will be. About the pain he's going to go through. And he's not afraid of that, that's not what he's worried about. He just doesn't want it to negatively affect our lives. He wishes he could protect us from it, that's why he doesn't want me to come home. He doesn't want to be a bother to us.

Dad, you silly thing. There's not really a choice about it.

Later that day, mom and dad call back and tell me that they're supportive of me wanting to come home. My dad realizes it would be better all around, that I wouldn't be happy at school. I'd be useless, really. Leaving all the time to visit, not being able to concentrate, etc. Personally, I know he misses me, and he'd be happy to have me home. And I just have to be there. There's no way I can't be home with him, and spend what time I can with him. No way. I went on campus and filled out the withdrawal form later that day. Did a lot of emailing.

I spend that weekend packing, getting things together, making plans. I'm to leave a week later, Saturday the 8th. I get Earth stuff figured out, try to find a new president or new leaders, at least. Ayako and Laura are wonderful. We bake peanut butter cookies and make pancakes and watch movies together. We fight with our landlord about phone lines, and I ask him questions about the lease and subletting. I decide to leave my furniture in the house.

This would have been my senior year, so all of my friends are graduating. I'm really going to miss everyone in Studio - I love this group so much. They're all wonderful. I'd love to have seen what projects they did, and where they go - I'll try to come back for graduation, but I don't know if I will be able to. The doctors say six months - who knows? Anyway, I decide to throw a good-bye party Friday night at my casa. I let everyone know why I'm leaving - he's been fighting it since March. We won some battles, but we've lost the war. Short, to the point.

A few days later, the emails come streaming in. Support, offers of help and sympathy. "If there's anything I can do..." Scheduling getting together with friends who can't make it to the party, or who want to hang out seperately.

My advisor is fantastic. She sends me an email on Tuesday asking if I'm okay, apologizing for not being more touchy-feely on Friday. I tell her it's okay, I'm not touchy-feely either. I met with Harriet today, talked about my summer internship and how well it went, what I hope to do in the future. What I should do on my break. I'm thinking of taking classes or working, if nothing else than to keep myself busy. When I come back, I want to graduate in a semester, save some money. Mom has almost a million dollars to support her, but she's only 53, and the women in her family live a long time. She'll probably have to work more than she does now. I'm hoping Sarah will be able to send her on some cruises. If I get a good paying job, I'll either pay her back or buy her expensive presents like furniture. I always felt bad about taking all that money for my education.

Anyway. I've got another Earth meeting in 15 minutes. I should probably be on time for this one. I'll let the group know what's going on, and we'll try to figure out who's taking over. Ayako and Aria, Matt, maybe some other girls who were in Earth all last year. It's a shame I won't be able to be president, we were going to have a really good year, I think.

We're lucky in that respect, though. Other than the cancer, we really have nothing to worry about. I can take off from school easily. My sisters live nearby. We have enough money. My parents have really good friends to take care of them in NC, I have most of mine up here but I have some in Charlotte, too.

I'll be posting a lot more than expected now.