April's Real Blog

Wednesday, August 29, 2007

Thinking stilted thoughts while traveling

On the plane ride back home, besides thinking, "I just DID this over the wkend," I found I was looking out the window (or trying 2, as my eyes temporarily disappeared), while thinking, "Think is so cool. I luv traveling by myself! Sum ppl get all worked up over it...... But I get a rush!" 'Course I'm sure U can C a huge diff between "worked up" and getting a rush. My eyes returned and I continued w/my stilted thots like this: "Now I know how Elizabeth [aka LIZ] felt when she was on her own. Now I know what it's like 2 have sum freedom." C what I mean abt "stilted"? And Y the heck was I thinking "Elizabeth" instead of "Liz"? She's LIZ! NEway, I wasn't dun yet: "So, bring on the future, cuz I can handle it! I am woman --hear me ROAR!!" Yeah, Aunt Bev was playing her old Helen Reddy album when I was in Winni. Then I saw Dad, and even tho I had seen him just days B4, I got an xxclamation pt in my thot bubble and went running 2 him, all "DADDY!!!"

C, I think I'm all grown up, but then I act like a kid. I have this weird feeling their R old ladies all over North America who R shaking their heads and saying, "Typical teenager." I h8 when that happens.

Well, I'm back. I'll prolly tell U abt my return 2 the TTH in tomorrow's entry.

Apes

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13 Comments:

  • At 12:46 PM, Anonymous rat said…

    April,

    The other day I was putting along in The Revenge O’Mobile”, getting ready to give some good old-fashioned revenge to my ex-girlfriend’s lover with my helmet and my mace; when I came across a ugly, Crocodile riding a Segway, that had a flag saying “Zeeba Assasin”, going “RRRRRR”. I thought, “Well, now here’s a scene you wouldn’t find in ‘For Better or For Worse.’” Then I read your blog about how you had to greet your muppet-mouthed, big-nosed dad after a plane flight, and I thought, “Well, I guess that scene wasn’t that different after all.”

    Rat

     
  • At 12:49 PM, Anonymous Croc said…

    April,

    Any zeebas where you live? I eat them for you.

    Croc
    Member of Zeeba Zeeba Eata fraternity

     
  • At 1:19 PM, Anonymous Honoria Delaney-Forsythe said…

    April,

    Dearest future sister. I was a little worried about what you were thinking to yourself on your plane trip, until brother Gerald informed me that these summer trips to Winnipeg are the only traveling you ever get to do. He said your parents travel on their vacations every year without you. No wonder you were thinking stilted thoughts. Also, who is Helen Reddy? With a name like that, she sounds like one of the female stars of those movies Mr. Caine likes so much.

    Gerald also said, judging from your brother and your sister-in-law, you shouldn’t count on much traveling after marriage. I told brother he better get that idea out of his head, because I am counting on you, dear sister, along with Gerald to summer with Bronson and me in his family’s chateau on the Loire. If you end up never traveling from Milborough, you will hear me ROAR! Well, actually roaring is not ladylike, but I will be sorely vexed.

    I can tell you after being forgotten by parents from when I was 6 until last year for Grade 8, being on your own is fun at first, but then you get very lonely. However, after a full year with Pater and Mater and older brother and brother Gerald and having a bedroom in a wine cellar, I think I am ready to be on my own again at Cashwell Day School. I liked being home, but I did tire of being woken up every night when brother Gerald would make his nightly run at Pater’s best bottles. At least this year at Cashwell, I won’t really be on my own, because I will be there with my fiancé Bronson van Daam. However, we won’t be living together or taking classes together, so there will be loads of time apart. I wish you were going to Cashwell with me. We would have so much fun.

    When can we go shopping? Gerald tells me you are already wearing long sleeve jackets in the middle of August. It sounds like a cry for help to me, and I hate shopping with Mater. It’s always, “If you weren’t such a fatass, you could fit into that size 0.” It will be so much better to shop with you. You would never say that to me.

    Love,
    Honoria Delaney-Forsythe

     
  • At 2:16 PM, Blogger howard said…

    April,

    Personally I like it when my daughters, María and Ana come running up to me screaming “Daddy”. I don’t think it’s acting like a kid at all. There is nothing wrong with showing some emotion with someone you love. And my wife, Beatrice likes the fact they have finally started to embrace me as their father.

    Now, if you wanted to draw some kind of symbolism into your experience, it would be your reference to the old Helen Reddy song, “I am Woman”, which was the rallying song for 1970s feminism. Your journey could show that you were like the 1970s feminist movement changing its strategy and outlook to be less radical in the 1980s. Or it could symbolically mean recognizing Daddy is more important than feminism or independence. Both of those ideas are silly. Only your mother or someone like your mother could possibly mean those things out of your return trip home.

    Love,
    Howard Bunt

     
  • At 2:35 PM, Anonymous Michael Patterson said…

    April,

    Formerly little sis. Not stilted. No. No. No. It is a form.

    Now I know how Elizabeth felt when she was on her own.
    Now I know what it's like to have some freedom.

    You began each sentence with “Now I know” indicating a revelation of thought, and with the similarity of form, your readers know that each statement comes from that same revelation. If you had altered the form, then readers might think it came from some other revelation. Your form is fine and not stilted at all. Of course the meaning behind the statement, that being on an airplane by yourself is anything like what the Lizardbreath felt when she was up having her little adventure in the primitive Northwest for 2 years, is a stretch.

    Similarly, being on an airplane is not like having freedom. It’s the opposite. You are in those tight, constricted chairs with barely any leg room. It’s more like being constrained in a prison, and you can’t wait until the flight is over until you can taste freedom again. If I were writing your form it would be:

    Now I know how terribly my legs can cramp if I can’t stretch them.
    Now I know how bad processed food can truly be.
    Now I know why people go crazy and attack people while riding on planes.

    Of course, you were probably riding on those planes mom used to like from the 1970s, where they had plenty of space in the aisles and in the seats, and none of that electronic stuff in the armrests. If you were in one of those planes, then I can see how you might consider that to be freedom from the modern plane rides. Mom will tell you, she hates plane rides so much these days, it’s amazing you considered yours to be so pleasant.

    Love,
    Michael Patterson

     
  • At 6:35 PM, Blogger April Patterson said…

    rat, i m not sure what u r talking abt, w/yr quoting marriage vows an' all, but, yeah, dad had that weird "muppet mouth" thing going. but he wasn't on a segway, @ least.

    croc, nope, no "zeebas."

    honoria, like howard sed below yr comment, helen reddy did this song in the 1970s, "i am woman." it was supposta b all, like, empowering. btw, i wore a jacket on the plane and in the airport cuz there was, like, mega-air conditioning. it was freezing.

    i guess we cd shop 2morrow. but i think i shd warn u, i m still mad @ u abt the whole jeremy thing.

    howard, i doubt i was being symbolic abt nething. i think i just haven't gotten enuf sleep l8ly.

    mike, i guess i like air travel. ::shrug::

    apes

     
  • At 6:53 PM, Anonymous Honoria Delaney-Forsythe said…

    April,

    Dearest future sister. You’re still mad at me about the whole Jeremy thing?!! Gracious! Brother Gerald told me you were good at holding a grudge, but I don’t know why you would be mad at me about Jeremy. I didn’t kill him, after all.

    It would be like if I was mad at you for some person you dated before Gerald who happened to die for no fault of your own. I asked Gerald if there was someone you dated before him for an example, but Gerald said there was no one. However, Gerald did say you got blamed for killing your dog, even though it wasn’t your fault. So, maybe your being mad at me about Jeremy would be like me being mad at you about your dog. That seems a little silly, doesn’t it?

    Why don’t we just go shopping and have a good time, and not worry about silly things? After all, once I am off to Cashwell Day School next week, if my family forgets about me, like they did last time, then there is no telling when I may be back. Unlike you getting to ride in the plane by yourself, Cashwell does not release students at the end of term, unless their parents pick them up. If they forget, then it’s summer school for you. I am so not looking forward to doing summer school. I hope my parents remember me this time.

    Let me know when you want to go shopping. I am ready any time.

    Love,
    Honoria Delaney-Forsythe

     
  • At 7:03 PM, Blogger howard said…

    April,

    I doubt you were being symbolic about anything, at least, not intentionally. My wife Beatrice has told me when she worked for your mother, there was a time when Moira Kinney found a big bite taken out of a phone book. When she asked your mother about it, she said it was not a real bite, but a salesmanship lesson, “The key to successful salesmanship is not to take rudeness personally.” Beatrice said she used her actions often to symbolize things or teach lessons.

    I would have taken someone with the ability to take a bite out of a phone book as a symbol of “Keep body parts away from that mouth.” However, I remember that from time-to-time you do things not because you want to do them, but because you are forced to do them. As I say, it might not have been intentional, but perhaps some force had some point they wanted to make.

    Love,
    Howard Bunt

     
  • At 7:09 PM, Anonymous Croc said…

    April,

    No zeebas. Sad. Maybe zeeba hiding. Look house next door. They black and white. No yahoo colours.

    Croc
    Member of Zeeba Zeeba Eata fraternity

     
  • At 8:43 PM, Blogger April Patterson said…

    howard, i think i kinda know what u mean. like i think i had all those thots abt being all grown up just so that cd contrast w/my b-ing kinda childish w/my "daddy!" outburst.

    honoria, no, i'm not saying u killed jeremy. but u kinda remind me of daisy buchanan in the great gatsby, going all, "la la la," obliviously setting in motion events that lead 2 the death of jay gatsby. but then it's all not her doing, and she just recedes back in2 her rich life all unscathed. fitzgerald was rite, i guess, abt how the rich are diff.

    i got v. frustr8ed cuz of how oblivious and uncaring u seemed abt the whole thing. u kinda reminded me of my bro, mike.

    but if u wanna shop, we can do it 2morrow, around noon. i do need sum cute clothes, even tho i can't wear 'em @ school. ::sigh:: our uniforms r lame. we can go 2 that boutique u txted me abt. i know u don't wanna go 2 luxurion, that dept. store where yr mom is a personal shopper. cuz she'd follow us around and call us fatasses.

    croc, no zeebas. i looked.

    apes

     
  • At 9:34 PM, Anonymous Bucky Katt said…

    How bout munkeys? There deliciouz.

     
  • At 9:41 PM, Blogger April Patterson said…

    nope, no monkeys. i just live in a regular suburban neighbourhood. we don't have a buncha exotic animals wandering around.

    apes

     
  • At 11:43 PM, Anonymous Honoria Delaney-Forsythe said…

    April,

    Dearest future sister. You cut me to the quick with your criticisms. We had to read The Great Gatsby at Cashwell, back when I was in 3rd grade, as an example of how to and how not to throw good dinner parties. I remember Daisy Buchanan well. She was thin and light and wore lots of white. I felt she and I were kindred spirits, even though she was just a fictional character. I don’t remember her going “La la la”. Perhaps you read a different edition. I certainly don’t think I am anything like your brother. I know he is somewhat feminine, but I think I have far more poise than he, and certainly a better fashion sense.

    As for setting events into motion to lead a man to disaster, dearest future sister, surely you cannot be so naïve. Or as you put it “oblivious and uncaring.” Jeremy Jones was a nice, enough boy for a villain; and he did have a trust fund acceptable enough to overlook his villainy, just like you overlook many of my brother Gerald’s worse traits, no doubt for similar reasons. But you should look no further than your own doorstep for the young lady who led him on the path to villainy. Goodness. The boy was desperately in love with you. It could not have been more obvious. Everything he did was for the sole purpose of trying to get your attention. The way he looked at you. The way he kept writing to you on your Blog day after day, when most of your other “friends” stopped. Surely you noticed.

    I was not around Milborough when Jeremy’s descent into villainy happened, but when I went to R.P. Boire and asked around about Jeremy Jones, everyone knew all about the “Germy Wormy Jeremy Jones” song, and throwing your harmonica, and how you were the only person in the whole school to come to visit him in the hospital. I think you might have been too young to understand what you were doing. Many young girls don’t realize the power they have over men. And sincerely, dearest sister, I lay no blame upon your head. You were doing what any young lady should have done in the same situation---with men, a lady’s best tactics are humiliation and redemption.

    Men can be obsessive when it comes to women, and it is not the woman’s fault, any more than it was poor Daisy’s fault to be surrounded by obsessed men. You prefer my brother Gerald, who has adored you for years. He is a far better match for you than Jeremy Jones would ever have been. You will be so happy with Gerald. And I am so looking forward to us being real sisters.

    Let’s have a nice time shopping tomorrow, and forget about dead things for awhile.

    Love,
    Honoria Delaney-Forsythe

     

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