I've been away for so long, it's hard to get excited about writing here again. The second year anniversary of my blog was this past November, and it was hard to care. Still, things are better than they were when I announced my hiatus from blogging.
Again, thanks to those of you who wrote me while I was away. Also thanks for the rest of the poetry blog world going on without me. I knew you troopers could do it. Though I wasn't writing, I definitely was surfing and trying to keep up. I hope to start interacting with you all again.
Craigslist Again (Sigh)
I'm roommate hunting. Again. In October, roommate H brought in a friend, roommate K, who was supposedly going to be here for another year as a student. I gave him the lease, and he never returned it. Too emotionally involved in other matters to correct this error, but I never worried too much, since at least one said he was staying through next year.
The day after New Year's, they both give notice, which is acceptable, given that the 1st was a holiday, and they most likely threw out the unsigned lease.
If anyone reading this is screening for roommies in New York or Boston this month, and if any say they're coming from either Boston or New York (these are not honest people), email me with their names. I'll let you in if they're the ones.
I am through being fucked with. It seems every time I try to put money in this place, bring better stuff in or plan for furniture, fate steps in and makes me partially regret trying to think more like a responsible adult.
No more. The landlord is such a good guy, he is willing to eat a month of their rent, taking only mine, in order to fill the place properly. H e is also resolved to take a more active role in the place. I needed to do that a while ago, but so did he. He's a great guy, and it's good that we're on the same page. I hope I can get a condo from him someday.
He's Home
My friend Mike is home from Iraq and awaiting presents I haven't even wrapped yet (he was back for a few days then heading off to be debriefed. Then he's back "for good," which may mean until 2007). I was planning to see him next week, but now my family is taking precedence over that. In a big way.
Dad
My father had his appendix taken out last month. Though there were no obvious signs of appendicitis(nothing besides the pain), it did the trick. And with good reason.
The biopsy of the appendix revealed cancer, located close to the path to his colon. The emotions reeling though my mind combine amazement over his lucky, early discovery, and fear for our family history.
Colon cancer is a big part of my family history. It claimed my father's father when I was a kid. It has been his primary concern for the better part of his adult life, getting regular check ups and colonoscopy appointments every three years. What would have happened if his appendix hadn't intervened, and he waited until his annual colonoscopy in June?
Still, sometimes even blessings can be scary. He has cajoled the hospital into doing a colonoscopy first think this Friday, followed by a removal of 6 inches of his colon, regardless of whether the results show cancer or not.
I remember my cousin Jason (congrats on your baby boy, BTW Jason) telling me once that the only male Parenteau to live past my father's age was a cop (a great uncle, I think) who walked the beat for years and was in peak condition, staying alive until his nineties. As you can guess, I haven't verified this story in years; but you might understand my desire to stay ignorant and not verify anything until this Friday is over.
My dad, though you wouldn't think it from his conservative views, is one of the family rebels, succeeding in life when a some in his family thought he never would. I think and hope that he can beat this and surprise anyone with low expectations of the Parenteau family's male lifelines.
More importantly, my parents were there for the removal of part of my large intestine (resulting from an appendectomy that never happened when they found that the appendix was healthy but my intestinal tract was riddled with Chron's), staying for several hours each day for a week while most of the time I rambled, half-awake and too drugged to cope with pain.
The debt I feel towards them for staying with me during one of the scariest moments of my life is great. I really hope I can do something for my father, having been there on the operating table before them.
That's all, for the moment.
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