Sometimes I'm surprised at how little I blog in the summer compared to during school. But then I realize that I do nothing during summer. Or rather, the same things every day. That's why I'm bummed that I can't even get a crappy summer job, because then at least I'd get paid to be bored. And I probably would be less bored anyway. Something bizarre always happens to you if you've got the type of job where you have to deal with other people, giving you a new interesting story to go and irritate your friends & loved ones with for awhile, which I enjoy. And I feel kind of like I'm wasting my life, just doing nothing every day. But, I don't think the same things every day. I DO have musings I could've put up here. So the answer basically is:

I am lazy. Being lazy probably edits out half the dumb crap I would put up here if I were energetic enough. But being at home, where I sometimes have to wait for the computer, and wait for it to dial up (had cable at school) is double the editor, for better or worse. So I think I'll just let drop a whole lot at once now that I've mustered the energy to get on here.

I guess one thing I've been thinking about a lot lately is about how old my parents are. They waited way late to have my sister and I, so they're much older than most people my age's parents. And, pretty unhealthy, they both have all these strange medical problems no one can solve. So anyway, I worry about them.

Worse, however, is the fact that an uncle on my dad's side (I don't really know Dad's side of the family so well, so I don't feel hugely directly devasted about this) is showing signs of Alzheimers. This is on top of one of Dad's other siblings having it, and one of his parents. Maybe both. My grandma had straight-up alzheimers, but my grandpa was more like Drew Barrymore's character in "50 First Dates," where she can remember everything up to a specific date in her life where she had a brain injury, but her short term memory's shot and she is stuck in this loop that repeats itself over and over. My grandpa had a head injury, and that IS what they thought caused it, but it got worse and worse over time, which is why it's not as much of a straight up case as it could be.

So... I'm a little shook up. No, I don't relish having the same genes as someone who might have alzheimers, but what really freaks me out is the prospect of watching Dad get worse day by day and remembering him like that, instead of like he is now.

Also, a good while ago I'd meant to blog this, he actually said something about me getting his books when he's dead awhile ago. I can see the logic: I'm the only one in the family who reads his books, or even really the same genre (SF). But just... out of the blue, him bringing it up after I'd asked to borrow one of them... disturbing.

I've got the pistols
so I'll take the pesos
yeah, that seems fair

--Banditos, The Refreshments