Ramblings of the Mildly Insane

Well, I showed up at the courthouse on Thursday only to find out the sentencing was delayed and when we finally did get in to see the judge one of the defendants decided to reevaluate his guilty plea. In Plain English, it means that the criminals who broke into my home are also hell bent on wasting my time as well.

Luckily the judge didn’t care too much for it either, and it was written all over his face, so he declared that when it was time to reschedule their sentencing (if, and when, the moronic burglar decides that a jury trial would not be in his best interest considering I saw his face only moments before he and his friends, who will testify against him, broke into my home) it will be rescheduled at our convenience (mine and the neighbour’s who was also burglarized).

When I think back to that day, it just seems like a comedy of errors to me. Each of the two defendants had separate lawyers. One of them was ready to have himself sentenced; he even had his lawyer come and talk to us about what they would ask from the judge. Then, there was the other lawyer, who was put into a sticky situation by the other defendant’s family. Apparently, someone in the family was a lawyer and decided—that morning—to cause a stir.

I was sitting on the waiting bench next to them so I could overhear everything they were saying. Mind you, I tried not to listen, but it was difficult. All I can say is, I’m not a lawyer, but even I know what they were thinking was idiotic. Then when that poor lawyer had to go in front of the judge and say, Sorry, but we need to postpone again (I’m paraphrasing), the other lawyer made sure to get in there and mention his client had nothing to do with it and was ready to take his lumps.

Long story less long, I’ll be going back to court some time in Sept.

To make this whole situation more unnerving, my daddy yelled at me. He told me I shouldn’t be going to court over any of this. I told him that they were mandatory subpoenas and that I would get in trouble for not going. He told me to pay the fine. What it came down to was my daddy being worried about my conscience. Although I did nothing wrong—they were the ones to break into my home—I would still feel guilty when the judge sentences them to prison. And I’ll admit that with the first one, I did feel somewhat guilty.

I mean, a year and a half of this kid’s life is going to be spent in a place where men will most likely be treating him like their bitch, and that is due in part to what I said to the judge although I only spoke the truth. It’s like these kids didn’t just take stuff from me, they put me in the worst possible position when it came to their own lives.

Still, I eventually got over it. After talking to multiple people, each telling me that while I can mourn for them and their families, I shouldn’t feel guilty because they made stupid choices. I told this to my daddy, but he wasn’t buying it. So, now my daddy’s mad at me, too. All because three boys decided to break into my home and steal my stuff over a year ago.

It’s the night before I have to go to court, again. And I’m nervous.

I’m not sure why though.

The last time it was an interesting experience. We sat in a courtroom (um…looks nothing like on T.V.) and waited for a few hours while the judge worked through all the other people who were up for sentencing. Then, when it was my turn, I went up and told the judge how I felt and what I thought the punishment should be.

When I left the courthouse I was in a mild state of shock. The kid seemed so contrite (but I have to wonder if he would have been that contrite if he’d not gotten caught) and he was in tears when the judge handed down the sentence: 18 months in prison. That’s a year and a half of his life that can’t be spent dropping the SOAP in the shower. All because he and his friends were stupid and broke into my house.

Still, I must remind myself that he did, after all, commit the crime and should be willing to do the time. Another part of me is still frightened that he might retaliate.

And I get to go through it all again tomorrow morning.

The other two boys deferred as long as they could and it will be their turn to stand in front of the judge, beg for leniency, and then get shipped away to the big house.

And again I will feel the same incongruous feelings. It’s such a shame that these boys wasted their lives on what? A couple computers, a sword, some jewelry, DVDs, and a few other knickknacks and bric-a-bracs. Unfortunately, that wasn’t all they took: They took my sense of security and for that, I feel they deserve whatever they get.

*sigh*

Let me start with: I’m typing this with one hand.

While her grandparents are away, I’m playing nanny to me niece so my sister who is an emergency room night nurse can get some actual sleep this weekend. But oh the wonders you’ll see taking care of a three and a half year old.

This morning I awoke to a soggy behind and a baby half strewn across me. I decided to move her to a dry spot and let her sleep. An hour later she woke up, tapped my shoulder and said in her best big girl voice, “Auntie Teli, I wet mommy’s bed.”

I smiled and said, “I know.”

We got up, got her cleaned up, then went to wash the sheets. Another hour and a half later, my sister came home from work and my niece met her at the staircase and said, “Mommy, I peed in your bed.”

Funny thing, though, because I agreed to keep it our little secret if she was a good girl and quietly watched Blue’s Clues while I cleaned up (which she did).

Then for another hour she terrorized her (very tired) mom. And then we were terrorized by a large flying black demon insect from the depths of Hell itself. My sister couldn’t find the bug spray so she tried to Windex it to death. That didn’t work, but it started cleaning its legs.

After the insect incident we all went upstairs, and mommy twirled and laughed with baby. It truly was a lovely moment (made infinitely more comical because mom had just taken NyQuil for her cold). Finally baby let mom go to sleep and came back downstairs with me, begged me to make her a burrito, then climbed into my lap and promptly fell asleep–burrito uneaten.

Which brings us to now.

It occurred to me that the last time I updated about my niece, she was still in diapers. Now she’s a “big girl” who is 98.6% potty trained, but still cute as a button (even when she’s being bad).

I wonder what it says about me when I have a dream that by normal definitions would be considered a nightmare, yet I think it would make one freakishly fantastic story. (And rather than frighten me, said dream only made me slightly tense.)

Since I didn’t include the nifty badge last time, here it is:

Inspiration from Mr. Hines

David Foster Wallace, according to I Write Like, a relatively new online tool which compares your writing to a pool of well known and accomplished authors.

That was my result when I tried two short stories and the prologue to a novel. Then I tried an Amazon review and it told me I write like Dan Brown. (Not my review of Twilight, though. For that, I apparently channeled Meyer herself.)

Then I put in another novel’s prologue and it told me I write like David Foster Wallace again.

Oh, and Cormac McCarthy writes like Ursula K. Le Guin.

Happy link dump day!

• Wolfram|ALPHA: brainchild of Google founder which answers questions
• Craiglook: the Craigslist search engine with a GUI
• Shop Goodwill: Goodwill has an auction site; imagine the gems which could be found there
• How Americans Spend Now: interesting look at how some Americans are spending in the recession
• OMGPOP: as if I needed another time waster
• The Dooce Archives: one of these days I’m going to sit down and read every single entry from day one…maybe
• Menus of Old: Kottke.org: because in the late 19th century, they also included a bill of rights with their meals
• Real Dolls Factory Pics: can you say creepy? (yet fascinating.) and it comes with video
• The Deplorable State of New Media: because Gene Weingarten is an hilarious old codger
• Boost Creativity and Part 2: who couldn’t use a bit more creativity in his life?
• Periodic Table of Swearing: mental note: must purchase table…and badger them to make it into a desktop background image
• **** My Kids Ruined: I’m sure my sisters could appreciate this and I can use it as visual birth control

Got a HUGE package from Amazon the other day. It was so huge I thought someone had actually bought me all 200+ items from my Wishlist. Then I opened it.

My hope waned when I saw all the butcher paper, but there was still an inkling, so I removed the paper…

And found…

iPhone screen protectors. Hope gone.

Amazon Packaging Failure. (Thank goodness I recycle.)

To the folks residing in the USofA, may your barbeques by sizzlin’ and your fireworks be dazzlin’.

(And to the folks residing in South Florida, let’s all say a collective prayer that the clouds will disperse thereby eliminating any chance of rain…)

(This was originally published on Facebook, but since someone decided to delete her FB account, I’m also publishing it here.)

(Title: Sketchbook Dump #13 (or, Unfinished Sketch of Christian Kane as a Shirtless Avenging Angel). Sorry for the watermark, but you know how TehInternetz can be. Also, sorry for the crappy scan.)

Now for the explanation…

I’m not big on doing fan art that doesn’t involve fictional anime characters. The last one I did was of Aaliyah when she was still alive, if that says anything.

But, one morning at God-Isn’t-Even-Awake-Yet o’clock my phone rings. It’s my friend J, but let’s call her Bucket o’ Crazy (BoC for short), who says, “You have to check your email right now!!!!1!! *squee*”

Me: (still half asleep) What’s email?
BoC: NOW!

Thinking that the world is on fire, I reluctantly check my email to find a crapload of pictures.

Me: You woke me up at this unholy hour to look at pics of some random guy?!?
BoC: It’s not some random guy, it’s Christian Kane and I need you to draw him.
Me: The glue you’ve been sniffing must have gone bad.
BoC: With wings.

*longpause*

At this point I should have known better. I should have rolled over, gone back to sleep, and left it alone. But damn my curious nature.

Me: Why with wings?
BoC: Because he kind of looks like an avenging angel, doesn’t he?

*anotherpause* As I stare blankly at the computer screen.

Me: Er…um…since when do avenging angels wear Stetsons?

*yetanotherlongpause*

BoC: And he has to be shirtless.
Me: He has to be…oh sweet baby jeebus and all that is good and sane, WHY?!?
BoC: Because he’s so pretty.

(Here, my darlings, is where I do you a kindness and remove the portion of the conversation that centered on his hair for 10 minutes.)

Me: o_0 … if I agree to do this will you hang up and let me go back to sleep?
BoC: I know what you’re trying to do and it’s not going to work.

Knowing that arguing would be no use, I set the phone down, went to make myself a pop tart and poured some juice. When I returned, bless her sweet little heart, she was still going on about hunting me down or kidnapping my first born or some such nonsense.

Me: If you stop, I’ll draw your damn picture of Dean Kane, shirtless with wings.
BoC: CHRISTIAN!
Me: Sorry, Dean Christian.
BoC: You and I are no longer friends.
Me: Seriously? Does that mean I don’t have to draw the picture?
BoC: No.
Me: But you said we weren’t friends. Hehe.
BoC: STFU and draw!

Yeah, I’m also wondering why the hell I’m still friends with her too.

And J, before you beg me to finish it, I don’t like how it’s turning out, so for now it’ll just be a stub. Maybe, in the future, if I feel so inclined, I may start over and do an illustration that I’ll ink/color in Painter…maybe.