When it rains it pours. On Wednesday, December 11, 2002 Elizabeth Patton Fridley died of a heart attack. It was her sixth. Grandmama was the dearest woman that I had ever known. This time I was able to attend a visitationon Friday evening at Woody Funeral Home. Her funeral itself was at Maury Cemetary at a familiar plot next to her husband, my grandfather, Erskine Fridley. It was cold, but a proper gathering attended. Many of these then proceeded to come to my folks house where the main topic of conversation was horsebackriding with a dash of shopping added in for good measure. After the gathering I went Christmas shopping with my girlfriend, Taryn. On Sunday she came over for the Luminaria in my neighborhood. She'd seen individual houses do this, but not an entire neighborhood. She seemed to think the view to be beautiful, but was put off by driving around without her headlights. She switched them off and on intermittently.
I have not much more time to write as I must procure dinner and prepare to teach a beginning hustle class this evening at the studio. Thank goodness this is the dance with which I feel most competant.

This morning my family held a memorial service for the passing away of Florernce Lane Schmid, known to me as Nana, my grandmother. Pop-Pop seemed to handle it better than we expected, but still broke down on occasion. After all, they had been married sixty-seven years. This is the second time that I have lost a grandparent to Alzheimers, and the second time that a grandparent passed away around Thanksgiving. While the holiday itself has become more enjoyable than it was in childhood. (I never enjoyed the holiday much) it is developing a stigma of death that may be difficult to overcome. The very premise of the holiday to me also seems worthy of anathema; the celebration of feast that preluded the genocide of a people, wherein we thank a god in whom I do not believe. Mayhap a celebration of gratitude to those in our community that help us would be appropriate, but the current practices of the holiday leave me with a bad taste in my mind.
I was all set out to decorate the X-mas tree (more on the abbreviation of X-mas in a bit) when Mom announces that she would like to use a new garland on the tree this year. Mom announced this after Dad and I had already erected the artificial tree in the living room (which delightly has lights already on it that we don't have to remove and put on each year). We haven't bought this garland yet. As the garland must go on before the ornaments we now have a lit up naked X-mas tree in our living room. I'm wondering how soon it will be before this garland makes it on the tree with the impending storm and Mom evidently not interested in going out to get it tonight.
Now, re: that abbreviation of X-mas I mentioned earlier. I heard an interesting snippet of trivia on the radio yesterday. While many people consider the abbreviation a form of slang and disrespectful of the holiday, it turns out that X is actually symbolically of Christ himself after all. X is the Greek letter Chi, a symbol associated with the Christ.
I seem to recall also reading somewhere that the cross in the shape of a lower case 't' was actually representative of Jesus's name. He would have been crucified on a device shaped more like a capital 'T'. Of course eveyone knows that the nails used to crucify him would have actually been hammered through the wrists and not the hands. He would have fallen off the cross if he had been nailed up through the hands.

Ah! Twas about time that I taught a lesson at Dance Masters again. Tonight I taught four-count swing in beginning group lesson. I had eight students: three men and five women. I got through the basic step, left and right-hand turns, rotation and wind-ups. I had hoped to cover cuddles and the difference between four-count swing and hustle, but I ran out of time. My girlfriend, Taryn was there with her best friend, Jeff. Right now I believe she's at Rare Olde TImes to see a high school friend of hers sing for open-mic night. I'm planning on calling around eleven o'clock. Hopefully she'll be home by then.
I feel a need to get artistic here, but I seem to be at a loss for topic. Right now I'm listening ot "Butterfly on a Wheel" by The MIssion UK off of their Sum and Substance CD. Not bad. The best Goth rock I've heard in a while. Now I'm streaming "Close to Me [Closet Remix]" by the Cure off of their Galore CD. I've heard this song before. I think I need to pay some bills here before I take my shower and call Taryn. That makes this entry all too brief it seems, but at least I've got something down. This blog is more or less an exercise to get my fingers going anyway. I don't expect many people to ctually read this. My brain just doesn't seem all that inspired at the moment anyway. As full as this week is going to be I'm sure that I'll find something to write about soon enough.
Good night.

So I came home from work feeling under the influence of my disease, a counter attempted with Top Care's answer to Tums, and began my usual routine. There was no mail for me. Thank goodness as usually when there is its usually a bill. Tha answering machine was also bereft of messages. The cats were eager to be fed and it was late enough I met their demands. E-mail was even decidedly brief. I'm sure this log entry must be boring the tears out of any choosing to read it, and as I am sleepy and seeking a means to fight the disease I will rest and enjoy my Cajun sounds emanating from Musicmatch Jukebox. Good day to all.

Tonight's entry must be unfortunately brief as I have work early in the morning. I will make an attempt to link other friends blogs to my own this evening if I can achieve it. My other computer experience this evening has been trialing the Musicmatch MX program that I might give them feedback. The trial format has given me opportune to explore some dream pop groups. I already have Mazzy Star, Belly, and Dead Can Dance in my collection. I'm definitely turned on by the Cocteau Twins now as well. Here's to the further explorations of music!

Being the first entry of Bert Schmid to his blogspot: Fantastory. As what entries I have seen of other individuals (okay, an individual) were of a journal nature, and this has become something of a social venue my entries will most likely be of a similar nature. However recognizing my penchant for stream of consciousness writing don't be surprized if my writings become tangential. That being said, perhaps an introduction into who I am would be in order. How to describe myself without using labels can be somewhat difficult, but I won't let that stop me from making the attempt. I inhabit the bedroom over the garage of a two-story Colonial in the pretentious village of Midlothian, Virginia. While not exactly a rich suburban sprawl, residents do tend to be comfortably well off. My personal finances keep my head just above water. This is neither here nor there. Money doesn't make the man. If you had to compare my appearance to various celebrities or characters: Ed Norton, Ichabod Crane, Maynard Crebbs, and Shaggy are most frequently mentioned. To describe myself as tall, lanky, and mildly handsome is probably as accurate a representation as any. I am possessed of brown, callicked hair, an olive complexion to my Caucasian skin, with eyes that I too frequently enjoy relating as being the color of stone flecked with moss. My self-confidence is a fluctuating creature, but overall has grown steadily with age. I find that one's belief in oneslf is a sign of the strength of his/her character. I try not to think of myself as one possessed of a disease (and all its corrolating symptoms), but as one challenged both physically and mentally to a given set of problems How I cope with those problems is up to me. Therein lies the core self. That aspect of my psychosis that interacts with my environment. A mind possessed of its own world view. One flavored by atheism with an agnostic residue. Cynical of the world, yet still able to put forth a certain degree of trust, and a taking for granted that reality as I perceive will remain consistent. And while I do not believe in a deity as a suprme being, the belief that others ossess gives that deity an existence within reality. It shapes their worldview, and how they interact with it. Mind over matter.
But enough of myself-absorbed prattling for one evening. I seek more light-hearted entertainments to candy-feed my mind tonight. May this and future readiings of my material amuse you in their way. Until then- good night.