Heath Ledger RIP, Weekend Doings

There is so much going on. First thing this morning, after hearing the "RealFeel" temp is -5F (-20.555555 in Celsius) is that Heath Ledger was found dead. I didn't believe it at first. And then I heard it again (apparently there is no news from Iraq, Iran, Gaza, etc. to tell me about), so I had to believe it. I have a few issues with the way it's being reported. First off, who cares if he's naked? Lots of people sleep naked. Hell, if I were to die in bed and made the news reports (not likely, I know), would they be reporting that I was found in a ratty, threadbare T-shirt that was falling apart? And if so, who the bloody hell cares? It doesn’t mean anything, except that I slept better in that T-shirt.

I read in the newspaper that after portraying the Joker in the upcoming new Batman film that he had trouble sleeping because the character is so dark and depraved, and that two Ambien only got him an hour of sleep. All this from an interview he gave the NYT recently. Anyway, my point is that if you can't sleep, you're willing to try anything after a certain period of time and if two didn't help, you think why not try another two. I made the mistake of reading the first page of comments at the article at the Freep (you'd think I know better because the comments always piss me off) and was appalled at the lack of human decency. Just because someone is famous doesn't mean that their life was spiraling out of control and that they deserve to die. I'm hating people lately. Especially stupid, ignorant people who have no empathy for others. I hope the autopsy shows he dies of natural causes (still sad), but it would shut the losers.

I had so much I was going to tell you over the weekend, but I got caught up in my knitting. I'm working on this lace shawl but as a scarf since I didn't have enough yarn for the shawl. The second picture is closer to what mine is looking like right now, as in the first picture, it's been (or being) blocked). The YS bought this beautiful orange yarn for me at this yarn store in Maine that I never got to (closed both days I tried to go). She was there to buy Tofutsie sock yarn which is made from the shells of shrimp and crab and saw the orange yarn. She was debating about buying it for me, unsure if I'd like that particular shade of orange. It was past the end of tourist season, so the lady told her she could have both skeins for the price of one. SOLD! I love it, love it, love it, love it. If I ever get my computer organized (i.e., get my music off it so I can download pictures – yeah, I know it's been six months since I've been saying this), I'll take a picture and show you the finished product.

It's funny. Every year the North American International Auto Show (NAIAS) aka the Detroit Auto Show always manages to be held during the coldest week of the year. This year they moved the show one week later than usual (so the foreign automakers weren't shipping vehicles over the holiday – we're very nice like that here in Detroit) and the coldest weather of the year followed. The traditional week for the auto show this year was damn near balmy (40s, at least). It's crazy. For the third year in a row, I didn't get to the auto show and I'm still bummed. I'm afraid that I got spoiled going during the preview week which has significantly fewer people (obviously). The reason going to the auto show sucks so badly when it's the coldest week of the year is that you can't get a decent parking spot, so you're walking for BLOCKS in negative windchill, so you have to be bundled up. Then you get to Cobo Hall and it's heated to the nth degree, so you're sweating. You don't want to check your coat, because there are jillions of people there and when you want to leave you're going to be waiting in line for a half hour just to get your coat. Instead you walk around carrying your big, bulky coat unable to get near any of the cars, even the not so interesting ones, because there are a jillion people there. You can forget getting anywhere near the concept cars.

The last time I went to the auto show as a non-preview spectator I was still dating the ex, so that was pre-1990. It was hotter than Hades in Cobo, as usual, and we not only looked at every friggin' car, we looked at every friggin' car's engine. And it wasn't just a glance or even a ten second look at the engine. It was a good five minutes at every car. I was going insane and swore I was never going to the auto show again. It's so much more fun when you go with someone with a similar mindset (i.e., let's just look at the cool cars).

On Saturday I went to a Memorial Mass for my aunt's father. Although I wasn't technically related to "Granddad," I loved him as if I were. He was definitely one of the good people of the world. Most of my cousins aren't old enough to remember Grandpa, my mom's father, because he died in 1984. In fact, they're all around the ages my siblings and I were when Grandpa died, so I understand how they're feeling. Of course, Granddad was 81 and Grandpa was only in his 60s when he died. Grandpa's death is the reason the YS is virulently anti-chiropractor. Grandpa had a bad back and therefore went to the chiropractor. The chiropractor took X-rays, as is normal, but didn't tell Grandpa that he saw the tumor in his lungs that would eventually kill him, because the chiropractor thought he could cure Grandpa himself. By the time, he conceded that he couldn't cure the cancer and told Grandpa about it, it was too late and it had spread everywhere (bones, every organ, etc.). I know, in theory, it's supposed to be easier when a person dies from cancer, because there was time to say good-bye, and the person was no longer suffering, etc., but I've never fallen for that BS. I'd have preferred that my Grandpa hadn't gotten cancer at all.

I've never been one for showing my true feelings in front of my immediate family, at least, not the important emotions. I remember I was writing a paper the night Grandpa died (it was a Wednesday), and we got the phone call from Mom at the hospital. I went to campus the next day and attended my classes as usual, I had a 400-level Spanish (writing and translation) class that I could not miss. The funny thing was that I was completely stressed out that semester already. Along with my 400-level Spanish class, I had a 400-level Econ class (International Finance, I believe, or International Trade, but I think it was Finance). Anyway, Econ met MWFs with Spanish meeting TTHs. For both classes I had to write FOUR papers (long papers) and every single paper was due within a day of each other. Every Tuesday and Thursday I would leave my 9:00-10:30 a.m. Spanish class crying thinking of all the work I had to do, not just for that class, but all my classes, as well as work to pay for my classes. I told you I was stressed.

One of my friends, John, would meet me every TTH with a tissue and a hug. The Thursday after Grandpa died, I sat and cried all through class, so afterwards I went to Manuel's office to explain why I cried throughout his entire class. He said to me, "I was wondering what was wrong. You usually don't cry until the end of class." right when he would be handing out the assignment and I would be trying to figure out when I was going to have time to get it done. Oh yeah, not showing my emotions…I knew I was going somewhere with that story. Back then, it was traditional to have a viewing at the funeral home for two days, and during one of the times at the funeral home, my Mom said to me something about not knowing how I was doing because she hadn't seen me cry at all, but hearing that I was crying all over campus. Therein lies the problem of going to a commuter campus close to home where two of your siblings also go. I'm trying to cry privately (away from family eyes), but not succeeding. To this day I have no idea how they know I was crying all over campus, because neither the OS nor BAB were ever on campus. The OS literally drove to campus for class and then drove straight home. The BAB spent a little bit more time on campus than that, but he was usually in the Natural Area (and trust me, I wasn't there). There are spies everywhere.

Saturday night was a much more enjoyable experience. I went with a group of friends to see To Catch a Thief (don't read the entire synopsis, as I think it retells the entire movie in word form – the first couple paragraphs would be enough to give you an idea) at the old Redford Theater. Only GtG had seen it before, but it had been a long time. After it was over, everybody declared they loved it and acknowledged the fabulousness that is Cary Grant. I was happy.

Sunday I was supposed to go and see Man from Plains but it was my sister's birthday and my BIL invited Mom, Grandma and me to join them (and the niece and nephew) for dinner. The movie was at 4:00 & 7:00, dinner was at 6:00. *sigh* It turned out to be okay, though, because nobody else could go anyway, so we decided we'd rent it when it comes out and all watch it then. Dinner was quite nice, as I had to do a smackdown on the almost 20-year-old nephew (He.Knows.EVERYTHING), and that's actually enjoyable. Mom leaves today for Egypt and Jordan on a 2.5 week vacation, so it was good to spend time with her. I think she was a bit nervous about going, but I know she's going to have a great time. She might lose weight while she's there as she's just about the pickiest eater in the history of the world, although the YS and I have gotten her to eat Thai food and sushi, so she'll try things, on occasion. My aunt and I were discussing what the heck Mom was going to eat there. I'll find out when she gets back. I know they're going for Indian food at the Mena House which overlooks the Great Pyramids of Giza and Mom thinks she doesn't like Indian food. I told my aunt to get Mom Tandoori chicken, as that should be bland enough for Mom.

I guess that's it for now. I need to get a cup of tea.