Heather L. Barmore
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Heather Barmore
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    Change In Action at Babble Voices

    Wednesday
    Oct052005

    Sibling Conversation

    The following is a conversation I had with my brother G:

    G: Hello? (Sounding oh so sleepy and as if he'd just woken up, at NOON )
    Me: Hey are you sleeping?
    G: Yes
    Me:Ok well do me a favor, do you still have your netflix?
    G: uhhh (frustrated) yes. What??
    Me: Can you put Office Space in your queue and make a copy of it for me?
    G: already did
    Me: So what are you doing?
    G: uhhhh Heather What do you want
    Me: I want to talk to you, what's your problem, why are you mad at me?
    G: BECAUSE I'M SLEEPING
    Me: So you're going away this weekend?
    G: yes!
    Me: are you excited?
    G: HEATHER what do you want??
    Me: why won't you talk to me? Why are you mad at me?
    G: I AM SLEEPING!!!!!
    Me: ummmm but Mom said that you're mad at me for something else
    G: Ahhhhh I'm hanging up on you now.
    Phone: *click* dial tone….

    Have I mentioned that of my three brothers, I can confirm that I annoy the shit out of two of them? My father's not too high on me either. Is it a male thing? Or maybe I'm just annoying when I call and want to talk and you're sleeping and/or in the hospital and/or talking to me from across the Atlantic and pissed about having to pay for that shit, and yet I am persistent and will try to make you talk to me anyway.

    I'm such a joy and treasure to have around.
    Wednesday
    Oct052005

    People Does it Better

    Apparently People is making great strides to upstage UsWeekly after the whole Nick and Jessica thing...because OH MY GOD...

    I guess anyone can have offspring...
    Tuesday
    Oct042005

    Tears

    "But when you say goodbye, say it as if you are reaching through the phone and holding their hand. Let them know that if they let go of that hand, you will die. We must shame them into sending help."-Hotel Rwanda

    I was in the mood for some movie watching, perhaps a little Don Cheadle. Normally I would get my fix by watching popping in Ocean's 11 and 12 and getting a little 'Basher'. But this time, I decided to go for serious and revered Don Cheadle; how about Hotel Rwanda? Nothing gets a Saturday night going like tales of genocide. I'm not a big crier and I haven't done so in awhile, even though as of late I've been plagued by a bout of melancholy.

    There's something about crying in public that is always seen as being weak. My parents aren't all too emotional, the first time I ever saw my father cry was this past June. He had just began recovering from a terrible spinal infection and heart infection. We were talking and he just started to cry. I sat across from him and did nothing, while I watched a normally loud and at times terrifying 60 year old man, cry.

    When Paul and Gregoire are driving back to the hotel after getting supplies, they hit a rough patch in the road. They are driving close to a river and Paul fears that they're heading down a cliff towards the water and that Gregoire will crash into it, so he demands that the vehicle is stopped. He gets out of the car, into the fog. The fog slowly clears out and he realizes that they've just been driving over hundreds and hundreds of dead bodies. Bodies of people that had been massacred and left for dead in the road. Paul throws up in his own hands and returns to the car and tells Gregoire to never tell anyone of what they just saw.

    I was in tears. They had been building for the entire movie, but I had been babysitting and you can't cry while a seven year old is upstairs watching Sponge Bob. At first it was just a few streaming tears then they progressively got worse. Worse because Paul left Tatiana in the caravan because he couldn't leave all of the rest of the refugees at the hotel. Worse because Paul thought that Tatiana had jumped off the roof of the hotel with their children. And worse, though tears of happiness, when Tatiana found her brother's children and they were able to leave for Belgium.

    I ended up crying so much that when the parents returned home, I could barely look at them in the face, for fear that they'd notice my red eyes and perpetually runny nose. By then I thought it would stop though, I suppose I just needed a good cry. It's been something that has been building up for the past six months. It wasn't just about genocide, which in itself is awful and horrific, but also because I needed something powerful to bring on the tears. I needed something to make me cry about my feelings of shitiness about every fucking thing. I cried because in comparison to what I had just watched, nothing was that bad, I cried because I felt badly about crying.

    Yup, I had finally I gotten what I was looking for and what I needed at this particular moment. A good cry. Now if only I can find something to make it stop…