Blog posts.
In other news, my dad got me an early birthday present.... .. ladies and gentlemen, I now own my very own drill! Naturally he also got me a set of bits and assorted attachments. I am so stoked that now I can build things! I reckon my first project is going to be a loft for my place in Richmond. Oh boy, the butch in me is so excited! jkjk You don't have to be a butch in order to be a girl who like to build things, although I have heard it helps.
The wisdom teeth are out, obviously, seeing as how my brother egged me on in my state of slight sedation to write that last post. Anyway, it feels funny, sometimes bad. The blood has mostly stopped, but I still taste it once in a while. I think I might buy some baby food, which is kind of funny because my good friend, Myron got me the book What to Expect When You're Expecting for Christmas. No, I'm not pregnant, but accidents happen, right? That's how I got here. Although I do want kids someday, hopefully none of this is foreshadowing anything to come too soon, but I guess if I do end up with an unwanted spawn I can use the other present he gave me: a little bottle of yellow pills called Happy Pills (because life sucks). Oh, some people know me so well.
Blah, blah, blog.
Suck it with <3,
- Kim
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Monday, December 29, 2008
if i wanted to talk to you this is what i might say
Here's another rant:
Don't talk to me. Don't tell me about your life plans, and don't ask me about mine. I thought that by now I'd be hearing something new from you, but no. You're still full of the same old shit from before. And that's fine - in a sense it's some form of stability. I can depend on you being so completely full of shit. You don't surprise me anymore. You tell me the same stories that I still don't care about. For someone who doesn't say anything worth hearing, you sure do talk a lot. But really, I'm glad that you finally "got your life together" for what the sixth time now? I've stopped counting.
Don't act like we have anything to say to one another. Time and time again I find out things you lied to me about. So don't be surprised when I want nothing to do with you. You're words are worthless. Don't ask me questions about this great life that I'm living, because I love it, and the last thing I want is for it to be tainted by the likes of you. You don't get to know who I am anymore.
P.S. Fuck you. And that's what I would say if I wanted to talk. My brothers won't talk you, either, you may not be able to talk after seeing them. They told me they didn't like you, and considering one of them has never met you, that says a lot.
That's right, folks, I just vented on my blog, and now I feel a lot better. But it might be because of drugs.
Don't talk to me. Don't tell me about your life plans, and don't ask me about mine. I thought that by now I'd be hearing something new from you, but no. You're still full of the same old shit from before. And that's fine - in a sense it's some form of stability. I can depend on you being so completely full of shit. You don't surprise me anymore. You tell me the same stories that I still don't care about. For someone who doesn't say anything worth hearing, you sure do talk a lot. But really, I'm glad that you finally "got your life together" for what the sixth time now? I've stopped counting.
Don't act like we have anything to say to one another. Time and time again I find out things you lied to me about. So don't be surprised when I want nothing to do with you. You're words are worthless. Don't ask me questions about this great life that I'm living, because I love it, and the last thing I want is for it to be tainted by the likes of you. You don't get to know who I am anymore.
P.S. Fuck you. And that's what I would say if I wanted to talk. My brothers won't talk you, either, you may not be able to talk after seeing them. They told me they didn't like you, and considering one of them has never met you, that says a lot.
That's right, folks, I just vented on my blog, and now I feel a lot better. But it might be because of drugs.
store ease
I've been spending lots of time with my grandma since she got laid off and I came home for winter. She's 76, so honestly, I was surprised that she was hired at all. Over the summer she was looking for work, and I remember her telling me that she had to fill out a certain number of applications in order to collect unemployment. She told me that she asked for an application at Wet Seal, but they told her that they were waiting for the "kids" to apply. One day my cousin and I went to Target and saw her standing alone in the parking lot. We asked her what she was doing, and she said that she and a friend went to look for jobs. Her friend had dropped her off at the Farm Fresh next door, and she was waiting for my uncle to pick her up. My cousin and I stayed with her till he came. This kind of broke my heart.
Anyone who knows me knows that in October I lost my granddad, my grandma's husband. This is also part of the reason I've been spending so much time with her. No one wants her to be alone, not even her. She told me she hates being alone and just cries all the time because all she does is think of my granddad. They were married for fifty-five years, and knew each other for maybe more than sixty; I'm not sure. When she is alone, though, she said she keeps it quiet and calls for him, begging him to talk to her. Since he passed away, some things have happened at their house that make us all think he's still there. I'm okay with it. I wish I was around when they happened. I wish I was around when everything happened.
She remembers the dates to every important event in her life. She's been telling me stories about everything. About how my granddad was a good man and did anything to help anyone. About how my great-grandmother didn't like him at first, but eventually took to him as her own son. About his heart attack twenty-some years ago and how it should have killed him. She showed me his coin collection, his states' information collection, and told me that he loved history - something I never knew.
The last time I was at her house, she could tell I was getting tired. She asked if I wanted to sleep in my granddad's chair. It was his chair, the one where he would always be sitting anytime I came over. He did everything in that chair, sat, watched tv, ate, slept, everything until Hospice gave him a hospital bed. I never got to see this, and part of me is glad. I had been wanting to sit in that chair for some time. I hadn't sat in it since we held prayers for him days after his funeral, two months ago.
Three weeks after he died, my brother called me from California telling me that our other granddad passed away. I felt like everything I was feeling had to be put on hold, because now here was this thing, this thing that had just happened to us. There were things to be done; it was all very methodical. I didn't get to go to the funeral. Tickets were to expensive for me to say good bye in person.
During a recent visit to my psychologist, he asked me about how I was dealing with everything. I explained that when I'm in school in Richmond, surrounded by things that have no connection to him it is easy to deal, repress, I didn't know which one. As soon as I felt like I was feeling something, I tried to think about something else. I tried to keep it all on pause. I told him that I knew that one day I would just cry and cry, and it was just something I had to do, but I didn't know when that would occur. An hour, a year.
When I sat in his chair, my grandma put a blanket over me and went upstairs to put away her laundry that we had just finished. I set it to recline, just as my granddad did many times before. I closed my eyes, began to cry, and fell asleep.
Un-pause.
Anyone who knows me knows that in October I lost my granddad, my grandma's husband. This is also part of the reason I've been spending so much time with her. No one wants her to be alone, not even her. She told me she hates being alone and just cries all the time because all she does is think of my granddad. They were married for fifty-five years, and knew each other for maybe more than sixty; I'm not sure. When she is alone, though, she said she keeps it quiet and calls for him, begging him to talk to her. Since he passed away, some things have happened at their house that make us all think he's still there. I'm okay with it. I wish I was around when they happened. I wish I was around when everything happened.
She remembers the dates to every important event in her life. She's been telling me stories about everything. About how my granddad was a good man and did anything to help anyone. About how my great-grandmother didn't like him at first, but eventually took to him as her own son. About his heart attack twenty-some years ago and how it should have killed him. She showed me his coin collection, his states' information collection, and told me that he loved history - something I never knew.
The last time I was at her house, she could tell I was getting tired. She asked if I wanted to sleep in my granddad's chair. It was his chair, the one where he would always be sitting anytime I came over. He did everything in that chair, sat, watched tv, ate, slept, everything until Hospice gave him a hospital bed. I never got to see this, and part of me is glad. I had been wanting to sit in that chair for some time. I hadn't sat in it since we held prayers for him days after his funeral, two months ago.
Three weeks after he died, my brother called me from California telling me that our other granddad passed away. I felt like everything I was feeling had to be put on hold, because now here was this thing, this thing that had just happened to us. There were things to be done; it was all very methodical. I didn't get to go to the funeral. Tickets were to expensive for me to say good bye in person.
During a recent visit to my psychologist, he asked me about how I was dealing with everything. I explained that when I'm in school in Richmond, surrounded by things that have no connection to him it is easy to deal, repress, I didn't know which one. As soon as I felt like I was feeling something, I tried to think about something else. I tried to keep it all on pause. I told him that I knew that one day I would just cry and cry, and it was just something I had to do, but I didn't know when that would occur. An hour, a year.
When I sat in his chair, my grandma put a blanket over me and went upstairs to put away her laundry that we had just finished. I set it to recline, just as my granddad did many times before. I closed my eyes, began to cry, and fell asleep.
Un-pause.
dream weaver (a reprise)
Lately I've been having dreams where people (not even people I know personally) surprise me in wonderful ways. One was with someone who I have seen less than a handful of times and have only spoken to twice...but if he asked me to marry him I'd probably say yes.
I was living in a darling city, sitting in a charming park. He walked out of a cafe to the left of the bench I was sitting on. I thought he saw me, but he didn't stop to say anything. Maybe he didn't see me. The last time we saw each other he told me I looked familiar (true story). So dream-me, which is essentially awake-me with probably less inhibition, assumed that if he ever saw me again he would say something. He continued walking about, and I continued hoping he would see me. Eventually he was out of sight.
Later, I was with friends laughing at something she said or something he did. I can't recall, but I specifically remember deciding not to tell anyone that I saw him. My phone rang, and a number I didn't recognize appeared. Wrong number, most likely. But I started to get nervous. I didn't want to answer it. I just wanted to know who was calling this, my number. I hit the green button, scrunched my brows and said, "Hello?"
"Kimberly."
"Yes?"
"It's [his name]. You never called."
"I didn't have your number."
"Yeah, I know, that's why I got yours." ...
And so on and so forth, we had a lovely conversation about nothing serious and made plans to hang out. It was all so very cute. Another dream I had was rather short and simple. Nothing with too much detail really sticks out in my mind. I was upset about something, and this person who I have met once or twice, and have only heard good things about, made me feel immensely better about the situation that I cannot seem to remember. They were very kind and caring for being mere acquaintances.
Maybe my dreams are telling me that I am hopeful. That's pretty broad, but maybe that's how it is. Maybe I'm hopeful about love, about human nature, about everything. Maybe I'm not as cynical as I, or anyone else thought... Then again, maybe these are just dreams because they'll never happen in real life so I have to fulfill this unsatisfied part of my thought process somewhere, so why not while I'm alone and unconscious?
I was living in a darling city, sitting in a charming park. He walked out of a cafe to the left of the bench I was sitting on. I thought he saw me, but he didn't stop to say anything. Maybe he didn't see me. The last time we saw each other he told me I looked familiar (true story). So dream-me, which is essentially awake-me with probably less inhibition, assumed that if he ever saw me again he would say something. He continued walking about, and I continued hoping he would see me. Eventually he was out of sight.
Later, I was with friends laughing at something she said or something he did. I can't recall, but I specifically remember deciding not to tell anyone that I saw him. My phone rang, and a number I didn't recognize appeared. Wrong number, most likely. But I started to get nervous. I didn't want to answer it. I just wanted to know who was calling this, my number. I hit the green button, scrunched my brows and said, "Hello?"
"Kimberly."
"Yes?"
"It's [his name]. You never called."
"I didn't have your number."
"Yeah, I know, that's why I got yours." ...
And so on and so forth, we had a lovely conversation about nothing serious and made plans to hang out. It was all so very cute. Another dream I had was rather short and simple. Nothing with too much detail really sticks out in my mind. I was upset about something, and this person who I have met once or twice, and have only heard good things about, made me feel immensely better about the situation that I cannot seem to remember. They were very kind and caring for being mere acquaintances.
Maybe my dreams are telling me that I am hopeful. That's pretty broad, but maybe that's how it is. Maybe I'm hopeful about love, about human nature, about everything. Maybe I'm not as cynical as I, or anyone else thought... Then again, maybe these are just dreams because they'll never happen in real life so I have to fulfill this unsatisfied part of my thought process somewhere, so why not while I'm alone and unconscious?
Saturday, December 13, 2008
You can't keep us out.
Cemetery.
Pyramid climbing. Fuck the Confederacy. Don't log roll.
Old Gym.
Exploring. Saw horses fucking. Sup. Hi!
Oh, adventures.
Pyramid climbing. Fuck the Confederacy. Don't log roll.
Old Gym.
Exploring. Saw horses fucking. Sup. Hi!
Oh, adventures.
Friday, December 12, 2008
no means no
I said no to going to New York.
I'm going to the beach to hang ten with my family.
My teeth still hurt, but I got some Vicodin for that. I'm a lucky girl.
Last night was fun. Yes. Yes, it was. So was the night before last. I love staying up till morning and talking. It's so very fun.
I like playing music even though about 89% of the time I don't know what the fuck I'm doing.
I miss my family lots, but I'll see them soon.
I have to finish my poetry portfolio, so as soon as that's done I'll post some of that shit on here.
I'm hungry. Bye.
I'm going to the beach to hang ten with my family.
My teeth still hurt, but I got some Vicodin for that. I'm a lucky girl.
Last night was fun. Yes. Yes, it was. So was the night before last. I love staying up till morning and talking. It's so very fun.
I like playing music even though about 89% of the time I don't know what the fuck I'm doing.
I miss my family lots, but I'll see them soon.
I have to finish my poetry portfolio, so as soon as that's done I'll post some of that shit on here.
I'm hungry. Bye.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
clash
Should I stay in Richmond for the weekend or go to New York?
Is that even a question?
In other news (this is where I write things that I wish I had the balls to say to people):
Ummm seriously, WHAT THE FUCK? You always talk about how you're so mature and shit, yet you do some pretty irresponsible things. I would care less if those things you did didn't affect me. Unfortunately, when you fuck up, I get fucked. I kind of hope you fall on your face and see how full of shit you are sometimes. Scratch that. I really hope you do. You're not always such a suckfest, but right now, I want to punch you in the throat a little.
This more than annoys me. Fuck you, dipshit.
Is that even a question?
In other news (this is where I write things that I wish I had the balls to say to people):
Ummm seriously, WHAT THE FUCK? You always talk about how you're so mature and shit, yet you do some pretty irresponsible things. I would care less if those things you did didn't affect me. Unfortunately, when you fuck up, I get fucked. I kind of hope you fall on your face and see how full of shit you are sometimes. Scratch that. I really hope you do. You're not always such a suckfest, but right now, I want to punch you in the throat a little.
This more than annoys me. Fuck you, dipshit.
why i only got two hours of sleep
My fucking teeth hurt. Yeah, I couldn't pass the fuck out because my wisdom teeth are crashing the party when the guest list in my mouth is limited to the teeth I already have. Mother fucking shit. It hurts. I'm supposed to get them taken out on the 29th, but that is only if I get clearance from my cardiologist. Apparently my heart isn't exactly normal or something, and there could be complications with putting me under, meaning I could accidentally get put down. Surgereeks!
I still feel sick from a couple weeks ago, not as bad though. My throat still hurts a little. Hope it's nothing serious. Hmm. Yeah.
I'm working on a final paper for theatre history. It's kind of a joke.
What else? What else?
Oh! Missed chances! Woe!
Although I do love winter, I can't wait for warmer weather so I can ride my bike downtown late at night without a million layers on. Ah, I miss that. I also miss dancing on tables. That will be remedied.
I turn 21 next month. I don't really know if it's going to change anything. We'll see. I'm having a big party. That should be fun. Don't really have any details planned out about it.
I'm growing a certain distaste for the behavior of some people. I don't know why some people try so hard. CHILL.
I had a dream that I was babysitting myself at the age of three. It was weird. I'll go into that some other time.
I am so addicted to streetbonersandtvcarnage.com. Their radio stuff is so insanely legit. I want to pump it in my veins. I want to eat it, poop it out, and fertilize a garden with it. That is how good it is. Trust me.
Okay, so I'm ready peace out of here. I say that a lot. I mean it. I want to move so bad! Ah, in due time. Hopefully everything goes as planned, and I can graduate next winter. I must get out of here. College is swell and all, but I think I'm over it.
Good morning and goodbye.
I still feel sick from a couple weeks ago, not as bad though. My throat still hurts a little. Hope it's nothing serious. Hmm. Yeah.
I'm working on a final paper for theatre history. It's kind of a joke.
What else? What else?
Oh! Missed chances! Woe!
Although I do love winter, I can't wait for warmer weather so I can ride my bike downtown late at night without a million layers on. Ah, I miss that. I also miss dancing on tables. That will be remedied.
I turn 21 next month. I don't really know if it's going to change anything. We'll see. I'm having a big party. That should be fun. Don't really have any details planned out about it.
I'm growing a certain distaste for the behavior of some people. I don't know why some people try so hard. CHILL.
I had a dream that I was babysitting myself at the age of three. It was weird. I'll go into that some other time.
I am so addicted to streetbonersandtvcarnage.com. Their radio stuff is so insanely legit. I want to pump it in my veins. I want to eat it, poop it out, and fertilize a garden with it. That is how good it is. Trust me.
Okay, so I'm ready peace out of here. I say that a lot. I mean it. I want to move so bad! Ah, in due time. Hopefully everything goes as planned, and I can graduate next winter. I must get out of here. College is swell and all, but I think I'm over it.
Good morning and goodbye.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Check out The Small is Beautiful
Seriously, insanely legit. Go to www.thesmallisbeautiful.com right now. Go this very instant. Just click the title of this post. Why are you still on my page? GO! Then come back and read this, but only if you want.
Here is my response to the blog about dancing by The Small is Beautiful, found at:
http://www.thesmallisbeautiful.com/2008_12_01_archive.html
Just read the blog.. . I can say that I do share in the frustration of the lack of dancing at shows. Generally my friends and I are those "weirdos" going nuts. Over the summer I was at the Islands show in Norfolk, and there were maybe seven (slight exaggeration) of us going ape-shit. Some strangers came over and said it looked like I was having a good time, and they felt weird wherever they were standing before because no one was dancing. So we joined forces trying to get as many others to start dancing, to very little avail. It's not right. Though it's not necessarily wrong; I mean hey, you buy the ticket - do whatever you want. But I just don't get it. How can you just stand in the midst of amazing live music and not literally be moved?
Furthermore, I think dancing at shows is a major thing that people can do to show respect and gratitude to the people playing them. They're putting their stuff out there, and I doubt they want the response to be a bunch of crossed arms and poker faces dressed in whatever the front window mannequin at American Apparel or H&M is wearing (I'm not trying to hate on either of these places - both of which I have shopped at - but I am hating on the people who steal their style from a faceless plastic body). Having a good time isn't "too cool," or rather it shouldn't be considered such. It's okay to show emotion in a crowd of strangers. It's okay to dance in front of them too, because honestly, you probably won't see them ever again.. .and in most cases it's too dark to see anyone's face, so go ahead, dance the night away.
The thing I think is kind of crazy is that the places I see the most dancing are the smaller scale shows, the ones in galleries and houses, the ones where a donation of a buck gets you in and graciously thanked. It's probably due to the atmosphere. I don't know. The reason I think it's crazy is that the "bigger" shows, the ones where oftentimes a pretty penny is dropped just to get in the door, and let's not forget the lovely not-too-little fees they tag on -- well, those are the ones with the least dancing. So what, are people just paying to look bored in front of their favorite bands? That's silly. When a band plays, wherever, whenever, just dance.
By the end of the Islands show, I was up front dancing up a storm, slamming my fists on the stage, and being gawked at by the guy next to me, who had both arms wrapped around his lady friend. He looked at me like I was crazy. But I thought the girl he was holding was the crazy one, allowing herself to be so contained while standing in the presence of live music that incredible. All I can say is don't ever try to hold me during a show. You might get hurt.
* * * * *
As for the accessibility of music, it's definitely an interesting thing. I don't know anyone who looks to the radio or a specific television music channel to get the goods on what's out there. I feel like people either find what they like on their own, or through other people, and I like that. I like that the whole act of finding good music seems less monopolized. Maybe that's too strong of a word, I don't know. I don't doubt that MTV had its glory days, and that there still are those few radio stations that are worth keeping on one of the memory keys. But I think that now, with more people talking about music, making music, and listening to music, well I don't think there's really a comparison. It says a lot when music is shared from person to person, even if it's one person telling another to go to this website or that. Some people talk about how the use of technology limits human interaction and such, and how it's a way for people to not deal with other people. But I mean come on, it also acts as a bridge. Hey, it brought us all to this forum, right?
Here is my response to the blog about dancing by The Small is Beautiful, found at:
http://www.thesmallisbeautiful.com/2008_12_01_archive.html
Just read the blog.. . I can say that I do share in the frustration of the lack of dancing at shows. Generally my friends and I are those "weirdos" going nuts. Over the summer I was at the Islands show in Norfolk, and there were maybe seven (slight exaggeration) of us going ape-shit. Some strangers came over and said it looked like I was having a good time, and they felt weird wherever they were standing before because no one was dancing. So we joined forces trying to get as many others to start dancing, to very little avail. It's not right. Though it's not necessarily wrong; I mean hey, you buy the ticket - do whatever you want. But I just don't get it. How can you just stand in the midst of amazing live music and not literally be moved?
Furthermore, I think dancing at shows is a major thing that people can do to show respect and gratitude to the people playing them. They're putting their stuff out there, and I doubt they want the response to be a bunch of crossed arms and poker faces dressed in whatever the front window mannequin at American Apparel or H&M is wearing (I'm not trying to hate on either of these places - both of which I have shopped at - but I am hating on the people who steal their style from a faceless plastic body). Having a good time isn't "too cool," or rather it shouldn't be considered such. It's okay to show emotion in a crowd of strangers. It's okay to dance in front of them too, because honestly, you probably won't see them ever again.. .and in most cases it's too dark to see anyone's face, so go ahead, dance the night away.
The thing I think is kind of crazy is that the places I see the most dancing are the smaller scale shows, the ones in galleries and houses, the ones where a donation of a buck gets you in and graciously thanked. It's probably due to the atmosphere. I don't know. The reason I think it's crazy is that the "bigger" shows, the ones where oftentimes a pretty penny is dropped just to get in the door, and let's not forget the lovely not-too-little fees they tag on -- well, those are the ones with the least dancing. So what, are people just paying to look bored in front of their favorite bands? That's silly. When a band plays, wherever, whenever, just dance.
By the end of the Islands show, I was up front dancing up a storm, slamming my fists on the stage, and being gawked at by the guy next to me, who had both arms wrapped around his lady friend. He looked at me like I was crazy. But I thought the girl he was holding was the crazy one, allowing herself to be so contained while standing in the presence of live music that incredible. All I can say is don't ever try to hold me during a show. You might get hurt.
* * * * *
As for the accessibility of music, it's definitely an interesting thing. I don't know anyone who looks to the radio or a specific television music channel to get the goods on what's out there. I feel like people either find what they like on their own, or through other people, and I like that. I like that the whole act of finding good music seems less monopolized. Maybe that's too strong of a word, I don't know. I don't doubt that MTV had its glory days, and that there still are those few radio stations that are worth keeping on one of the memory keys. But I think that now, with more people talking about music, making music, and listening to music, well I don't think there's really a comparison. It says a lot when music is shared from person to person, even if it's one person telling another to go to this website or that. Some people talk about how the use of technology limits human interaction and such, and how it's a way for people to not deal with other people. But I mean come on, it also acts as a bridge. Hey, it brought us all to this forum, right?
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
These waves won't carry me anywhere, and these roads give no direction
I'm still at the beach (VB), not exactly the beach, but my house in VB, fifteen minutes from the beach. Ah. I got really sick last week on Tuesday, actually. But I took some meds and felt better. Feeling better, I decided to go to Jarhead and Marzipan's house to play the drums. IT'S SO AWESOME!!!! Then I woke up Wednesday morning feeling a little bit dead. Since then, I have been puking my brains out. I've come to the conclusion that it must be my brains I'm puking out because I haven't been eating anything, really. A cracker here and there. Maybe it's all the pill capsules. In any case, with the help of modern medicine and insurance, I am on some drugs that have made my throat stop feeling as though it's closing. I can talk almost normally again, but I have these crazy nose bleeds. Consequently, I've stopped spitting up blood for the most part. And I think that's where I'm going to stop talking about the sickly week I've been having.
I knew that the holidays would suck because Granddad is gone. Well, I missed Thanksgiving. I was alone in the house while everyone went to my tita's. I missed seeing my cousin who came up from Atlanta, and I haven't seen her in quite sometime. So, I guess I was right. Holidays blow.
I find myself thinking about my granddad more and more. And it makes me sad, very very sad. But I know there's nothing to help it; it's just something I have to feel.
I always thought he would just be there forever. I pictured bringing my kids to his house, him showing them his vegetable gardens. Now, whenever I do have kids, I'll have to tell them about him. And I'm afraid that I won't say all that should be said. What if I forget things?
I knew that the holidays would suck because Granddad is gone. Well, I missed Thanksgiving. I was alone in the house while everyone went to my tita's. I missed seeing my cousin who came up from Atlanta, and I haven't seen her in quite sometime. So, I guess I was right. Holidays blow.
I find myself thinking about my granddad more and more. And it makes me sad, very very sad. But I know there's nothing to help it; it's just something I have to feel.
I always thought he would just be there forever. I pictured bringing my kids to his house, him showing them his vegetable gardens. Now, whenever I do have kids, I'll have to tell them about him. And I'm afraid that I won't say all that should be said. What if I forget things?
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