"Cocaine Flame in My Bloodstream...." ~Ray LaMontagne

Zac Brown Band's song about Jolene has been spinning around my head for weeks now. Sure, it's a legit tune, but I think it's more likely the frequency with which I've heard it that's caused this condition to occur. Also, it about sums up how I've felt since my last post IN NOVEMBER (whaaat a hackjob blogger I am).

Completely in shambles is a light way to put it: confused, liberated, lonely, excited, hopeless, ambitious....basically I'm schizophrenic. Just waiting for my Lithium perscription to get filled. For any of my friends who read this half-assed blog and haven't heard (all 5 of you), here is the "official" announcement: I am not going to be changing my last name this summer after all. Sorry my voicemail box has been full for the last 9 weeks. Anyone looking to buy an unnaturally long wedding dress? I can give you a screeeeaaaamin deal.

Easter occurred this last weekend in case you guys missed all the pastel. I spent it in San Diego with a friend I know through work. Nothing eventful happened with the exception of the earthquake but I had a pleasant time nonetheless. Pleasant is such an unfair docile word to describe my weekend. But nonetheless, it describes what I've become over the course of these last 5 months. Docile. Non-confrontational. Tepid. Pretty much the equivalent of a perfect Muslim woman, minus the burka, pork aversion and belief in an absurd religion. Man I hope there are no Taliban or Al-Quaeda operatives reading this. There you have it: narcissism rears it's pretty head. I'm sure it's HIGHLY likely they're performing covert internet reconn analyzing data from the blogs of Mormon chicks from Utah. Totally viable.

Which brings me back to my Easter story. This one is my favorite:

I was about 12 when we had our last family Easter egg hunt. We did it for Gabriel because he was just a little guy at the time. The rest of us were so cynically "cool" by the time we each hit 10 that hunting for eggs took a backseat to naps, dinner, In Living Color, Star Trek the Next Generation and pretty much everything else that typically took place at the Bowers household on the Sabbath aside from church.

Gabe was so unbalanced during this time that we were legitimately concerned he'd grow up to be a serial killer. LEGITIMATELY. He handled criticism and simple stresses like sounding out the word "h-a-n-d" about as well as Charlie Sheen and his pregnant, cracked-out spouse handle life. I still remember the veins in his bright red forehead pulsating like a Jedi light sabre any time he got angry. PSYCHO.

My older brothers, Ben & Andy, and I all obeyed my mom and hid eggs in the backyard for Gabe to scavenge. My greedy little Gollum-like brother dug around the yard like he was looking for the "precious" and surpassed all of our expectations when he'd unearthed all but one egg within a mere five minutes. Trust me, we made every effort to make the task as difficult as humanly possible for Gabe, because we simply enjoyed watching him suffer like the little apprentice cat-killer he was.

Yet still Gabe prevailed....all but for one egg. My brother Andy had taken the liberty of ingeniously hiding the last treasure in an outside light socket with a protective metal flap over it. He wedged the egg between the flap and the wall and we watched Gabe sniff around the yard looking for it eagerly while Andy positioned himself against the wall of the house right next to the spot where the action would take place.

Gabe giggled with excitement when he spotted where the egg was hidden. He ran for it laughing triumphantly because he considered the find a win versus his older siblings for once. As he neared the wall to retrieve the last, most validating Easter egg, he reached to pull it from under the metal flap, but before he could touch it, Andy beat him to it.....by smashing the flap with his hand, thus causing the egg to explode like a pumpkin dropped from 1000 feet.

The hysterics that rose out of Gabe were earth-shattering. He sounded like he'd just watched his entire family be buried alive before his eyes. Ironically, his hysterics were completely hysterical to us....in the funny way. We cried with laughter and made fun of him the rest of the day; standard procedure in our family when you embarass yourself with weakness.

I'm so glad the name Gabriel Bowers isn't a name you can find on the Wikipedia "Notorious Serial Killer" list. We're such a blessed family;) Haha. With my current state of Schizophrenia though, who knows....I've still got time to become as institutionally nutty and self-destructive as Zac and Ray were for Jolene.....or worse, I could end up like we all thought Gabe would.

Kidddddding.