kickin' it old-skool
Nov. 22nd, 2009 05:16 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mickeymTonight (last night? whatever) I started out watching a clip from the original Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer (I hate Verizon for using 'The Island of Misfit Toys' for their jingle, grr.) and ended up dragging out my copy of N'Sync: 'N The Mix (there was a logical progression in there, honest. I'm just not going to draw it out here).
I just finished reading through my (unfinished) Snapshots of a Great American Romance, and wondering if I have it in me to finish it. There are really only two -- three, if I count the Chris time travel story -- popslash stories I want to finish. GAR, and my Vietnam a/u. (Do I even need to say they're all TrickC? Thought not.) I might have to give it a shot, in any case. Pretty boys who make pretty music. What's not to love?
Today is Matthew's 15th birthday. The first birthday I "celebrated" for him on LJ was in 2002, when he was turning eight. *shakes head* He's not really a boy any more; physically he's more of a grown man, save some filling out. Without actually dragging out the tape measure, and based on the fact that he was able to look Mickey in the eye last night when she came down, I figure he's pretty much hit six feet tall. My baby is as tall as his father. As tall as his Uncle Joe. From here on out, he'll be the tallest one in our family, because no one is taller than six feet. (Well, okay. Three of my cousins, and probably assorted of their kids, but we see them maybe once a decade, so, for all intents and purposes.)
So, yeah. Fifteen. By this time, 15 yrs ago, Matthew was already four and a half hours old, and we were (slowly) getting to know each other. Sometimes I miss the baby so much I ache with it, and I hate that chronic depression robbed me of several years of enjoying him -- the years between when he was two and four are blurs and random scraps of memory in ways none of the rest of his years are, and those were the 20 odd months, give or take, where I spent every morning forcing myself up out of bed and out into the world by reminding myself if I took my own life, I'd be hurting him in unimaginable ways.
A lot of you have known me for a good portion of my time on LJ; there are some of you who've known me ten years or more, and a few who've known me pretty much since I got started in fandom, some thirteen years ago. YOU have watched my child grow up with me, and it makes me feel warm in a really odd, funny way. Not just friends, or acquaintances, but more like family. You've all helped me through the good times, and the bad times, and the times when I wasn't sure there could BE any more good, and through that, you've helped my son. Helped me help my son. So, thank you.
Happy birthday, Matthew Douglas. I will always, always love you.
I just finished reading through my (unfinished) Snapshots of a Great American Romance, and wondering if I have it in me to finish it. There are really only two -- three, if I count the Chris time travel story -- popslash stories I want to finish. GAR, and my Vietnam a/u. (Do I even need to say they're all TrickC? Thought not.) I might have to give it a shot, in any case. Pretty boys who make pretty music. What's not to love?
Today is Matthew's 15th birthday. The first birthday I "celebrated" for him on LJ was in 2002, when he was turning eight. *shakes head* He's not really a boy any more; physically he's more of a grown man, save some filling out. Without actually dragging out the tape measure, and based on the fact that he was able to look Mickey in the eye last night when she came down, I figure he's pretty much hit six feet tall. My baby is as tall as his father. As tall as his Uncle Joe. From here on out, he'll be the tallest one in our family, because no one is taller than six feet. (Well, okay. Three of my cousins, and probably assorted of their kids, but we see them maybe once a decade, so, for all intents and purposes.)
So, yeah. Fifteen. By this time, 15 yrs ago, Matthew was already four and a half hours old, and we were (slowly) getting to know each other. Sometimes I miss the baby so much I ache with it, and I hate that chronic depression robbed me of several years of enjoying him -- the years between when he was two and four are blurs and random scraps of memory in ways none of the rest of his years are, and those were the 20 odd months, give or take, where I spent every morning forcing myself up out of bed and out into the world by reminding myself if I took my own life, I'd be hurting him in unimaginable ways.
A lot of you have known me for a good portion of my time on LJ; there are some of you who've known me ten years or more, and a few who've known me pretty much since I got started in fandom, some thirteen years ago. YOU have watched my child grow up with me, and it makes me feel warm in a really odd, funny way. Not just friends, or acquaintances, but more like family. You've all helped me through the good times, and the bad times, and the times when I wasn't sure there could BE any more good, and through that, you've helped my son. Helped me help my son. So, thank you.
Happy birthday, Matthew Douglas. I will always, always love you.
