TerminallyUniq

Not Surprised...

2011-07-07T22:19:00.004-05:00

And We're Back...

2011-06-30T05:50:00.002-05:00

I’m 35 years old this year, and i am not happy about it. i have never before in my life experienced this … this ...unhappiness about my age... and therefore i did not expect ever TO experience it. no, i believed very strongly that one was as old or young or perhaps ageless as one felt, as one chose to live and BE. maybe i still believe that and maybe i think i’ve failed myself in those aspects, and maybe that’s why i’m unhappy. maybe i feel about twice my age. i don’t know. but it’s not good.

i never said it out loud, and i never thought about it, obviously (given what i just stated above), but somewhere in my mind, deep inside myself, i must have decided -- or feared, or observed -- that about age 30 or 35 is the time when Certain Things Must Be Decided. let me attempt to explain...

before these past few years, i felt, believed, truly and whole-heartedly KNEW, that i could be and do and become anything in the whole world that i wanted. yep, i truly believed that. i have no idea where such lofty ideas came from really, given my upbringing. i mean, it has all been quite modest, when it put it on paper. which is why i don’t do that very often. put it on paper, that is. ha. ha. i can’t recall anyone saying those words out loud very often, not in such drastic terms. but i am a stubborn girl. you have no idea! when i get an idea in my head about what i’m going to do, that’s just IT. there’s no letting go of it until it’s done. like a wild animal that bites and its jaw just locks. that’s what i remind ME of. it’s often a good thing, but i’ve also had to learn that there are times when i have to pry myself loose. some things have to be thrown back, thrown out, abandoned.

for many years, i wanted to be a police officer. a realistic goal. i mean, i had most of the qualifications. for the departments that i wanted to apply for jobs in, my most difficult challenge appeared to be some of the physical qualifications. there are typically physical tests given to applicants, which include some kind of bench press minimum and a running mile time limit, stuff like that. while i’ve always played sports and been underweight most of my life, i was not fast enough or strong enough in my upper body to meet the qualifications. but i could BECOME those things. the goals were not out of the range of possibility.

i’m not exactly sure why i didn’t go for that particular career option more aggressively. i can only tell you now that it probably just wasn’t right for me. because it just didn’t stir enough passion in me to make me do all the work. i just didn’t push myself for it the way i have done, the way that i do, for things that i really and truly desire. and inside of myself, i’ve never been able to MAKE myself or FAKE myself out (not to be a poet about it) enough to do things just for the hell of it or just to see if i CAN. so i never really made the bench press weight, even when i had passed some of the other exams for the police department or gone to interviews, and i just kind of was “blah” about it. and HERE is the thing... there was always Another Time... because across the U.S.A., on local and state and federal law enforcement departments, the age limit for a starting officer with no prior experience is almost ALWAYS 35.

so you see. there was always Next Year. until this year. this is the first year of my life when i said to myself, i really CAN’T be a police officer now. and it’s kind of dumb, because i didn’t WANT to be a police officer anymore! i hadn’t tried to get that job, hadn’t wanted to do it or anything, in years. but now i CAN’T. now i’m past the age limit, or dare i say it, too OLD. on the other hand, i’ve been wondering how i feel about saying to myself, “hey, i am now eligible in ALL ways to be president of the united states.” me and john mccain! we have everything in common now! i don’t know, i’m all fucked up in the head over this. and i never thought about it before, never once! i’m telling you. i don’t understand why it snuck up and bothered me now...

it wasn’t just the police job... that was just something where there is a definitive, written rule. but you know, it’s quite likely that i will not become a backup dancer for a pop star now, if i haven’t already (a teenage dream of mine)... i mean, you know, really. and i don’t think i’m going to be a supermodel at this point if i haven’t done much work in that industry already (same dreams, same timeframe). probably i won’t become a pro surfer either, because i guess i forgot to move to a place with a beach before i went and got TOO FUCKING OLD!

i think i might be hysterical over this. and no one i talk to understands. a lot of my friends are PERFECTLY happy with their lives, which consist of just what they wanted, i guess, at this point... they have 1 - 4 kids, dogs and cats and houses and careers and husbands … NONE of which i have, ‘cept the cat. and i don’t want any of it, those are not the things i’m lamenting. can’t i get a house any old time? like, when i’m 85? can’t i get 4 dogs and adopt some kids if i have to? no, no, i’m being a little sarcastic... but those just aren’t the things that i personally want. or wanted. so i just don’t have people around me who understand. i mean, people who are OLDER than i am don’t understand of course, like my parents or other family or friends... they just think i’m being silly and that since i’m younger than THEY are, i have the world at my feet or whatever. but hasn’t anyone ever felt this way?

i know that my life isn’t over, and for that i am certainly grateful. sheesh! i know that i have --with any luck and some vitamins and exercise -- many years left to make of whatever i will. this is not about my life being “over” or something. this is about finding a way to come to terms with the fact that … that i guess, i’m an adult, and that i’m at a point in life i never considered before??? that there is a time in life when you have to shut the door on certain things, that you have to accept that certain things aren’t going to happen for you, and MAYBE that’s okay, because maybe i made certain choices in my life that led me to the place i am... (switched from that general “you” to “i” …such great, formal writing here) …

i’m beginning to think through such things, but i’m still not happy or comfortable with the situation at all. shit, i feel like i have to have therapy about this like some goddam yuppy or something. like, ohhhh, my biggest fucking problem is that i don’t want to be forty!!! or some shit. but that is NOT my biggest problem, it’s just something i haven’t learned how to cope with. and don’t even know exactly how to explain... which is why i’m writing about it and putting it out there to the world...

i need to figure out what i AM now if i’ve begun to see and feel all of those things that maybe i’m NOT ever going to be. you know, there are some careers and goals in life, i guess, that you can’t do (like being a professional cheerleader, un-checking that one from my list...) if you haven’t done them already when you’re like … shit, when you’re 25, let alone THIRTY-five. but there must be a lot MORE things you can still do when you’re my age. plus, i’m educated and would love to go get MORE education if i have the financial opportunity, i can read and play music, i can speak and read Spanish and even some French, German (and i know the Korean alphabet and both sets of their numbers, so i can translate/read the language there....just takes me a little while!), i’m awesome at all kinds of weird stuff like doing research (i’m the best fact-finder/ web searcher /at-home Jeopardy player EVER); playing sports; chatting people up; i’ve worked with people from all walks of life and had to be their boss.. SO, i think it’s weird that i don’t seem to fit in anywhere, like, for a job or whatever.

sometimes, i feel like it’s all the health problems i’ve had. i lost practically my entire social life, and i guess i lost my jobs, to tell the truth, in one way or another, because of my disorder (see: all my other blog posts... ha. ha.). but at the same time, sometimes i feel like that’s just not the whole story, and why do i feel that way? maybe that IS the whole story! maybe i WOULD have more of a life and not have such a struggle with my identity right now if i hadn’t had so much struggle with my health during … well, during my whole adult life. shit. that’s something i need to think about more. maybe, as they would tell me in therapy, as they HAVE told me in therapy, i need to grieve for what i feel was lost during that time. like my opportunity to be a pro skateboarder. :)

i think we’re getting somewhere. i’m really glad we’re having this conversation!

Too Long!

2011-03-10T23:21:00.001-06:00

This blog and those associated with it will return on April 4, 2011!!

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Mobile-ity 2

2011-01-07T03:44:00.001-06:00

well, dang,y'all! my beloveds, your comments have all been quite over-the-top, lauding my tech-"savvy" self! I have a sneaking (ok, it's more bum-rushing than sneaking, per se) suspicion that if any of my followers or lurkers(you've been made! Come on outta them thar bushes, abundant lurk-sters!) are developers or IT ppl or what-have-you, they'd just mock my modest little android phone w/3G networking.
my own fave accomplishment / discovery thus far was that I (or really, my phone) can utilize the wireless router I have @home here when I am indeed AT home! the point, naturally, is that when I use my own wireless network, I ain't using a single ha'penny of "the company's" resources! WOOT.
by the by, why am I talking (oh, you know what I mean!) like some horrible frankenstein of hillbilly-cum-hackney origin? well, I wish I could tell you. next post, when i'm not wilfully contracting carpal-tunnel (sp? dunno) by tippity tappin on this touch screen (one of my most personally detested inventions to date, led only by the faux-formal accessory known as an ASCOT +most often forced upon the long-suffering necks of fast food managers.. so i'm told.. ahem)... o,fuck this paragraph.. !!
What I was going to get around to tapping out here is that: 1) I actually do have some theories +insight into my personality (kindly notice that I have not advertised said personality as,like, sparkling or radiant, cheerful,et. al.. so if you come to hate my honesty, well, here's a quarter, as they say...
already, i'm a peach.. what's not to like,see! haha,i'm just being funny(ish). which probably plays more like "weird and/or mentally insane" on the "page." bwah haha
ok. 2nd thing is that, SERIOUSLY NOW, PEOPLE, many of you have sent me emails+ comments that cheered, motivated, +lent support to me ...+i want u to know iIhave responses+a post or two for y(ou)'all! ;)
P.S. hell no,i'm not proofreding this. My new laptop arrives in T minus 8hrs! (for your consumer comparison shopping,just FYI: this is my second replacement -entire new ones cuz two have been totally defective! ..so this will b my THIRD laptop from sony..(ready?).. In SEVEN months!! .. story for another time,but let the buyer beware fo sho!

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Mobile-ity

2011-01-05T23:20:00.001-06:00

Well, well, well! Although I had hoped to grace you all with some blogging many more times by now, technical difficulties thwarted me (and in such ghastly manner that i shall relate the most horrifying details to you as soon as i am able to use a proper computer again)!

So, if laptops+other means of blogging have let me down, how, you might wonder, am i now posting? Well, thanks be to the Android Market and my new phone! I downloaded the free blogger app,so now i can post even from my phone! and, for the record, i TRIED to pay for the,well,paid version,and it wouldn't let me choose a payment option! Wtf? The little buttons were there,but none responded.. Sigh. So for the time being,i can post these simple blogs but no photos,fancy colors or fonts,etc.

My laptop should b ready to test any minute,but I figured i'd do a mobile post in the meantime! Cheers,all!

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.5

2010-12-17T15:29:00.001-06:00

You'd think after all these years of blogging, I'd have the font thing down a little better. Sorry if you had to invest in reading glasses in order to read my last post (haha, because you would do that for me, right? you would be dying to know what the words said, so you would leave your screen, go to your local drugstore, purchase some of those colorful, $5 glasses, then come back to see what gems I've graced the world with this day? Yeah? I know.)

Thanks to Joe and Gleds for the comments!! I will be catching up (and I have already done, a little) on everybody's writing this weekend, and I can't wait!! I always find that reading my favorite blogs is as good as reading a beloved book!

Now, regarding those comments, Gledwood, do you not know of Martha Stewart that she is considered the Queen of all Homemaking? It's not just cookin', mate! If it comes to entertaining, folding sheets or blankets properly (i was recently stunned to learn from martha, on tv, that outside of the retail industry, where I had to learn to fold towels the company way, there is indeed a proper and preferred manner in which to fold and store one's linens). anyway, here in the states, you usually fall into one of two camps: the one that loves her and counts on her empire (magazines, something upwards of 57 books, tv show, holiday specials, etc) to teach you how to live a neat and organized and aesthetically pleasing life ...the other camp, of which i might be camp president, is the one wherein we respect the fact that this is a woman who has built a billion dollar empire (girl power, yay) but we think that ..how should i say this?? we think that to spend one's afternoon endeavouring to fold one's fitted bed sheets just so is a waste of one's precious days on this planet. but to each her own, right? most of the, um, disciplines, that martha teaches also seem to my way of thinking to be exercises in Earning the Approval of One's Peers/Neighbors/In-Laws, etc.... and i never can condone expending much energy on that. but wow! who knew that i even gave martha so much thought? not i.

ok, well, moving right along! what holidays does everyone out there celebrate? i would love to hear about all of your traditions or what you might PREFER to be doing if you are not able to do that because of your traditions or obligations. i mean, let's keep it real on my blog! not everyone adores the holiday times... in fact, i think that many or even most people DISlike this time of year. i worked in retail for 9 years, and if that didn't give the impression that no one enjoys anything at all about hannukah / christmas /kwanzaa et al., well, nothing would.

as you know, i've been out of the workforce due to illness for about a year now. and while my situation has its ups and downs -- oh wait, we are keeping it real, so there aren't many downs at all, i have to say!! --i have never hit my knees in such fervent thanksgiving as when i was freed from the indentured servitude of retail hell. never was the light at the end of my tunnel less visible than when i was there. never did a college degree feel like more of a sick joke. and honestly now, seriously: NEVER, EVER have i been treated on such a regular basis by other human beings (both supervisors at my places of employment and customers of course) in such an astonishingly inhuman manner. i exaggerate not a bit. it was truly humanity at some of its ugliest lowest behavior. my boyfriend of five years during that experience had worked in retail security, and now he is a police officer. i think only those in that line of work see humans at a lower point in their life and actions. it doesn't get much worse.

if you haven't done a holiday stint in retail (or really any time of year, because the holidays just amp up the noise and crowds and confusion and RAGE of the people), let me share some details about my last christmas in the business. i don't even know off the top of my head whether this was the worst. it was definitely one for the memory books of course. but who knows? every year was just mayhem. i'm sure that you've seen it on tv each year, at least a bit of it, yeah? i remember that in recent years, employees and customers alike have been severely injured and even killed, during the "black friday" rushes for sales and in-demand toys. INJURED and KILLED!!! what's wrong with these people?, we'd ask each other rhetorically, everyday, all day.

so my last year of holiday employment was like this. it was actually the last official day, because it was christmas eve. everyone on staff with me was in a pretty good mood. we were way OVER-staffed, which was rare, but on that ONE day, our company allowed for a high payroll, because 1)it was never possible to predict how many last-minute shoppers would be in from year-to-year; sometimes it was a mad rush, others it was vacant... and 2) yes, indeed, our boss showed a bit of mercy and wanted us to get out of the store when it closed at 6 p.m. rather than stay late cleaning up like we usually did at night. it should be noted that at this particular store, they had the extra-merciLESS habit of scheduling people, including students and those with full-time "regular" jobs in addition to the one at the store, to close at night (an endeavour that often lasted past 12:30 a.m.) and then to open the next day at 7 a.m. no sleep or driving time or anything was even considered, just stay late and be back bright and early! at least when i worked at one of america's most beloved big-box stores (i shant say their name, for fear of their wrath, which is well known to me, but perhaps you will think of a bullseye as a hint), they had a company rule that mandated employees be given eight full hours between any two shifts. it's just basic human treatment, you know?

but i digress, because if i wanted to write about all the violations these retail companies heap upon people on a daily basis, i'd write a book. oh wait, i already DO have that in the works ;)

so it's christmas eve, and we are all having a grand old time. we had some good catered food brought in for us by our managers, which was lovely of them indeed. most people had plans for later, and of course for christmas day. half the staff were seasonal help and those tend to be happy just to be making some cash, unlike the year-rounders who are generally surly and less enthused about all the long hours. while we were having a good time showing people our last-minute deals, re-stocking shelves, and telling delighted callers that yes! we are open for business ... the clientele was less than civil to us. i mean, they were just wrong.

i was working at a customer service desk that day. at the desk, we would take returns/exchanges, we would order and replace online items for ya, and we'd help with any other issues at the back of the department store, which is where we were located. the store i was working in also had a hair salon and one of those photo "studios" where people pay to get their kids' pictures taken, or their own or their pets', i'm sure you know the type... well, wouldn't you know it, since it was the eve of christmas, the photo studio was engaged in selling photo opportunities with santa!!! how lovely! now, i must tell you to have the kids leave the room for this story, because it ain't pretty...

okay, so i guess santa was doing his thing over there, smiling with what seemed (and SOUNDED) like tens of thousands of children all day long. hey, i hope he didn't expect anything less when he took the job! whatever his issues, santa finished his day around 4 p.m., so the rest of the store was still working, so he could still shop! yes, santa needs to shop apparently, for a few last-minute items. regretfully, i do not remember what he bought. but he brought his items back to our registers (yes, even though we were under a luminous red sign that read: "Customer Exchange / Return / Service," many ~~dipshits~~ customers would bring their regular stuff to buy up for us to take care of for them. okay, fine if we weren't busy, but hello, if there is a line of people already pissed about some defective thing they have to exchange or return or whatever (as was the story of our life in that department), why are you doing this to us?????? we were not allowed to turn them away unless there was an extreme line of our own customers waiting, so i rang up santa's stuff...

santa handed me some money and two coupons. as was my habit, i ran the two coupons through the register (mind you, before we go further, this was only like a $20 purchase, nothing extremely expensive); then, sadly, the registered beeped me a rejection sort of beep, you know the type. one of santa's coupons was the type that could NOT be used with ANY OTHER DISCOUNT OR OFFER OR COUPON... you dig? y'all know when you have a certain good discount coupon, and it says on there that you can't just pile up about five of 'em, so that basically the store has to pay YOU or something? yeah, it was like that. so i pleasantly and politely, as my training and 9 years of experience dictated, explained, "oh, i'm sorry, sir, this second one cannot be used in combination with another coupon," and began to hand it back to him... have i mentioned that he was still dressed head to toe in full santa regalia? (for your imagination's sake)...

santa did not raise a hand to take the coupon back from me, the first and certain sign of Trouble at the customer service desk... i made sure to have my blandest, most serene-and-a-bit-stupid-as-in-too-stupid-to-understand-any-complaint-you-might-make, look upon my face, and santa just ERUPTED! "WHADDYA MEAN?!" he bellowed in that ho-ho-ho booming tone we all know and love.

"I mean, that this coupon cannot be used with another, as it states at the bottom here," I kept my voice low and gentle...Santa ripped the coupon from my hand, quite literally, tearing its corner in the process. he peered down through those sweet-old-grandpa bifocals at the writing on the coupon, and his face turned from confused rage to the rage of complete understanding.
"Oh! THAT is GOOD! You all SENT me this, and now you're telling me I can't use it! Is that right, am I getting that right?" he spat...
quite right, douche-claus, now you're catching on, except i didn't personally send you anything, except my list like 20 years ago, and i never DID find a speak-n-math under the tree, so fuck you. "Well, no, you still can use it, but it can't be used at the same time on the same items as this other coupon," I explained in a voice that was practically sing-song with patience and the finest spark of disbelief that i never could shake, no matter how many times i had to patiently deal with maniacs.

Santa stared at my face like he wanted to say something more, like he was itchin to throw down as we'd say where i come from, but he was trapped by the legalese of that damn fine print. to be honest with y'all, i would have suggested he split his items up into two neat $10 piles and i would ring 'em each up and put one coupon to both of 'em ... but see, when you treat the cashier like the shit from your reindeer's ass, she sometimes forgets to mention that these things can easily be done.

that was about it for santa. i rang up his items and sent him away growling under his breath a bit more about how i had sent him something and tricked him into coming to shop and then not letting him use it after all. nevermind he had used one coupon already and saved like 20% on twenty bucks. nevermind it was christmas eve and, ya know, only 17 bucks after all was said and done. nevermind it was SANTA. hell.

okay, so here's part two. on that same afternoon, that same inauspicious christmas eve workday, i see a guy in line who i recognize as a businessman from the area. my brother and i grew up knowing this guy, i mean, he's been around the chicago suburbs all of our lives, so... let's say at least 30 years. i shall assume we are far from the only ones who know him. he does not know me well enough to recognize me all-grown-up self. my brother took lessons from this man at one of his places of business, ok? i'll just leave it at that. and to top it all off, if anyone was uncertain, he was wearing one of those stylin' satin jackets with his business name in huge airbrushed letters on the back of it ... so you see, if one were standing behind him in, say, a long line at a store on christmas eve ... well, one would know who he was and what business he represented. hmm. if it were me, i'd behave as befits a rep for the company, especially if it were.. MY COMPANY! but that's just me!

let's call him The Fish, because, well, it's sort of like his name. once again, we-- my fellow workers and i -- are all working quite efficiently i must say in all honestly, and getting through our long lines that had collected. the afternoon was the type when there was no real busy hour, just lots of dead time interspersed with huge throngs of people all showing up at once. it happened to be a time like the latter when we got our lines to the point that everyone had maybe two more people and a current customer. my current customer was the fish. the fish was making a purchase, just like santa had done, and i accepted it, fine whatever. it was only one item, a set of gloves and mittens or something like that, definitely for a woman, mind you. i think the fish mentioned it was for his wife, for her christmas gift... so imagine my inner snickering when he whips out a credit card with a woman's name on it but bearing his last name.

(now, look y'all. just in case you don't know, there are laws regarding usage of credit cards in america. they are LAWS, not rules, not suggestions, not even like county ordinances from place to place. no, they are federal laws in most cases, including the one at issue here. i'm often told that cashiers fail to ask for i.d. even when someone has requested it on the back of their card. or they fail to even notice that the name on the card does not match the name on the i.d. presented, or the gender of the person using it, etc. people get irritated sometimes but they just complain and move on in most cases. nevertheless, it is a VIOLATION of the federal LAW to use a credit card without proper authorization. this does not change when you get married, have a child, or otherwise entangle yourself with another human. the way to become authorized to use another person's card is to have that person INCLUDE YOU on the account... you see, you must be NAMED as an authorized user in order to buy stuff with the card of another person. no matter how much they love you or sleep with you or share your dna. otherwise? it's breaking the law, mostly by YOU, but it ain't gonna be pretty for the person who let you do it.)

okay, so the fish hands me a card that says, let's say, loretta p. fish. i ask him, does this card belong to you? (hey, i mean, maybe... ya know, who knows?) he says, "no.. yeah... well, it's my wife's." he's buying his fucking wife's gift with her own credit card??? ok, well, that's their business, but well... shit. i asked him politely, although i had some doubt about completing this transaction peacefully: "ok, so are you an authorized user on the account?"
fish says, "i guess so, it's my wife's." yeah, you said that already, dumbass.
fortunately, the credit card in question was a store card, the kind we were forced to try and force on YOU the customer everyday by asking "wanna save 10% and get a ___card?" with every breath we took. believe me, this annoys no one more than it does US. anyway, i had access to all of the accounts, so perhaps i could rectify this situation quite nicely after all.
me: "okay, let me look you up so i can verfiy that you are on this account in addition to the cardholder named on this card." i was trying hard to convey that it was simply protocol, not any air of suspicion toward the fish himself, which is how any question regarding one's credit card is always taken by customers.
after more, "whaddya mean, it's my wife"ing, the fish shrugged like okay, i'll just have to play along with this ridiculous charade, it's the least i can do to get these mittens for my wife using her money. he handed over his driver's license so that i could make the necessary computer inquiry, and there it was, loretta p. fish's store account and credit card number, naming loretta herself as the only authorized user of the card...shit...

returning with an air of calm authority, I handed the fish his d.l. and explained quietly, "i'm sorry, you aren't authorized to use this account."
OHHH, the wailing, lamentation, and gnashing of teeth!!!!! my line of customers had now reached epic proportions, and as the fish's whining and threatening and accusing rose to another level and another, i stepped away from him and called for back-up to my register. haha. i just stepped away and i don't think he even noticed, both of us behaving as though he was a two-year-old in the midst of a tantrum and quite unable to control himself at the moment.
so, as amazed, angry, impatient, put-upon customers stared at the business name emblazoned on the fish's back, the fish himself raged at me accusing me of calling him a liar (i hadn't even gotten a word in to call him anything at all), saying his wife would be appalled that he hadn't been able to use her card, i (me personally, as usual) was causing him one inconvenience after another, all of which he enumerated verbally for all within range to hear...
i told him there was nothing that i could do about it, but that he could talk to my superior if he wished to question the issue further. i glanced meaningfully at the long line behind me to suggest to him that getting out of my face one way or another, would be the best move at this point.
...well, SHOCKER! the fish threw his $15 mitten set down on the counter and just stormed out, still cursing me and all and sundry issue of my womb for all generations forever. but you'll notice he did not wish to see my manager. huh... see, in my experience when someone wishes to make his case, because he believes he is in the right, and the conniving little cashier who has attempted to thwart him from purchasing the item of his desire, is in the wrong (why do they think we CARE enough to do so??? why do they think we are loyal to our company enough to prevent them from using a coupon if we can help it? or to jack up prices and such? i promise you, the cashiers are not loyal to the company store in this manner and would never be called on to do such things, nor would they do them if they were told)... they will see the manager in that situation.

so the fish abused and cursed and berated me, after santa had already done so, and in front of all these customers, and on christmas eve, and while sartorially advertising his own business to boot. and come to find out, he KNEW all along he couldn't use that card! for all i know, he's estranged from his "wife"! maybe he is divorced from this woman! maybe she hates him, has a restraining order against him. how the eff would i know? see, this is why you can't just come up in someone's face and go, of course i'll use this credit card even though it doesn't have my name on it, because that person is my wife. i don't know you like that, fool, i don't know anything about y'all's relationship or who uses who's money and all that. see? shiiiiit.

and that was the end of retail christmases for me. i know this is long, but well, i didn't go back to edit/cut it, i just left it the way it is, just like my rambling brain full of thoughts. now you know what it's like to be me, haha

I'm Still Here...

2010-12-14T01:22:00.000-06:00

...and I'm NOT Joaquin Phoenix :) Hey, I saw that movie recently though; has anyone else? Does anyone even know what the hell I'm talking about? I'd like to hear your opinion(s) if you've seen it. I'll share mine as well.

I'm assuming that there are still people out there (perhaps cats? brought in by my Dorian's much more exciting and interesting blog?) reading this... yes, I've been away for an inexcusable amount of time. But I've been in such an ugly mood, and I just couldn't for the life of me (quite literally, I felt on most days) come up with anything to write about that wouldn't drag you all right down in it with me... right down in IT, that is to say.

But fuck it, ya know? After so much wallowing, I got busy decorating my new mansion (bigger than the last one, two-bedroom apartment, which I truly love, and which-- hallelujah!!-- is filled with sunshine, or at least in the wintertime here, some outside light shining in). The past two days I've spent actually getting to use the Christmas decorations which have been stored away for years, ever since I had my first place. When I lost that (long story, I'll share it next time), I had nowhere to use my little sparkly trees and lights and mangers ... but now, well, it's ON! And yes, I am quite enjoying this decorating. Nope, I'm most certainly NOT a holiday-loving-Martha-Stewart-crafty-nutjob like "that." But there's a whole story/philosophy behind this too.

SO, I sat down to write tonight/this morning to let all y'all know that I live! And that I plan to start writing regularly again. And while many say that, I actually DO it, because I am a writer. Even if no one reads it, even if it sucks or whatever. I wish to keep this blog chugging along, so I'm back at it after my unplanned hiatus. So if you're interested in hearing the aforementioned tales of woe, and other sordid miscellanea, then by all means, stop on by in the next day or two!

Lighter Fare This Week...

2010-11-08T16:08:00.001-06:00

Oooh! i hate it when i don't post for so long! and i really have lots to say; in fact, a few times in the past week i have begun a post, only to delete it, because i thought it just got too ... too ... well, too ramble-y, you know? the way that my thoughts often are but that i try to organize and pare down to the essentials when i write for a (possible? small? somewhere, someday?) audience :)

anyway, the first thing on today's "lightness" menu is this link which was sent to me via one of my email subscriptions; the HuffingtonPost, which i do consider one of my favorite hodgepodge blogs, always has these montage-type posts that are filled with photos, advertisements, newspaper articles and the like ... all gathered with a theme of something outrageous and usually something that i, and apparently people of like mind with me, find hilarious. but today, ohhhh today! just go here and see for yourself, paying SPECIAL attention to PHOTO NUMBER SIX (please)... go on, i'll wait... really, if you're in a rush, you can JUST look at number SIX! ... ...

back? okay then. here's the astonishing thing: I took the exact same photograph like 8 years ago whilst on a road trip to the indiana state fair, accompanied by my best friend and my brother, to see the ill-fated boy band O-TOWN perform. dammit! but before we get to THAT little tidbit... how and why did i find myself at such a ~~state of mind~~ shrine to ridiculous racism, which apparently was SO hilariously inappropriate and ridiculous that the HuffPost AND i found it appealing -- nay, necessary -- to snap a photo?! allow me to explain...

while driving for what was the first time for all of us in our neighboring state, we had only to cross the border before launching into a full-blown attack on their inferiority (i apologize now, okay? i was immature and pathetically trying to find an identity, if only one attached to my midwestern "prairie" state). i successfully ran a crazed truck driver onto the shoulder so that i and others could pass him after he had been spotted for miles and miles aggressively nudging and forcing small cars and other 18-wheelers out of his lanes. in the traffic jam that you will almost always find just over the bridge / state line between IL and IN, i was actually cheered and given fist pumps of approval for my aggressive off-roadin' while, well, ON the road. that was fun. it only served to encourage the raucous behavior and the mental state that one often acquires on a road trip with friends ... that in which everything is hilarious, and no one else ever noticed it before you and your witty, genius friends.

well, the traffic broke open, and we drove through little town after little town, on and on through flat lands of grass and factory smoke and some corn (yes, it's the same here, and in our OTHER neighboring state, Iowa, except i would estimate that in IA, they have more corn, less factory smoke). we were about 45 minutes or something from our destination, hungry and almost not finding everything funny anymore ... when we saw that sign (is that right? perhaps i was delirious? i cannot recall exactly where these towns are, and quite frankly, i've not been motivated to look 'em up on google earth, ok?)!

"look! look!" i screamed, slowing down, because hey, there wasn't any traffic to engage in vehicular fisticuffs anyway ... there was a state highway sign informing us that these two towns were coming up in three quarters of a mile! thank you, highway department of Indiana! that sign gave me an idea that something was strange and that we needed photographic proof. summoning my camera from phil, my friend and navigator at the time, we actually found this important enough to pull over onto the shoulder and get out of the car. yes, we really did.

"this state is hicksville central," i joked, "there are two SEPARATE, but i'm sure EQUAL, towns for 'whites' and 'browns,' and i think we all know what they mean by that." always one to jump in when an inappropriate or uncouth statement is being made (you might call it a joke if you share our sense of humor), phil said, "so where do red and yellow stay?" but THAT remained a mystery during our visit...as, so far, we have not seen any towns or cities in IN that indicate where any other races should go.

SO the picture was developed from my disposable road trip camera ... EIGHT years ago, or possibly more??? i'd have to pull my O-TOWN/Indy State Fair ticket out of its memorabilia box to be certain. And now, somehow, someone else has seen fit to publish the same photo (taken under very similar circumstances, wouldn't you guess?) in this "ridiculous" compilation. i think i'm offended that MINE wasn't used. i think i'm also offended that the HuffPost is getting all the credit for my old, worn-out, COLLEGE jokes.

also, tell me what you think, but ... i dunno, to me most of those pictures weren't very hilarious; they were kind of just ... offensive. have i turned too serious or something? i mean, racism isn't actually funny, after all.

Toni Keller

2010-10-28T21:23:00.001-05:00

Okay, I have a lot of blogging built up inside that is just pushing and shoving its way, itching to get out. And I will be working on posts that I've promised such as one on "Sister Wives" (oh the many words of horror to be written....), but...

Let's get this first thing out there, well, first. As I've mentioned before, my undergraduate degree is from a state university in Illinois called northern illinois university. it has a pretty good law school and a kick-ass business school (like top in the nation), but other than that, not a lot of folks know much about it. a couple of years ago on valentine's day, it got some notorious mention because it was the site of a school shooting/massacre. my fucking heart almost stopped that day; my brother was undergrad there at the time. fortunately for us (and not at all to make light of the lives that WERE lost that day), he was not injured. however, the psychological stress and damage that occurred in the lives of the students who were in class or on campus that day lives on. my brother was on his way to a building very near the shooter and found himself hiding in yet another building, running and confused in between, and generally part of the chaos that had ensued in the blink of an eye. i am not doing the situation justice, but that is because that isn't what this particular post is about tonight.

no, tonight is about toni keller, a freshman at niu who went missing two weeks ago and is now presumed deceased, murdered actually. we the public, we the alumni, the "we" who are her family and friends, and any other "we" you can name among us ... WE do not have any accurate information about what happened to her. here is what i personally know from reading and researching and watching news shows. if there is more, and certainly if there are inaccuracies, do comment or email:
**remains thought to be toni's but which remain unidentified at this time were found two days or less after she went missing by dekalb / niu police (i shall lump them together, because they seem to be working as one, and i don't know which body has provided which evidence, info, etc.) ; however, police did not make this information public until a few days AGO.

**police have now released the information that the unidentified remains were found among other evidence that was "consistent with materials" said to be on toni's person when she was last seen.

**for the week or so between the finding of remains and the providing of this information to the public, niu/dekalb police made no statement to indicate to students and others that homicide was a possibility or that their efforts (putting up fliers, etc) might be in vain... let alone the fact that they might need to take extra precautions in light of a possible right-next-to-campus murder.

**in fact, during that time period, police encouraged students and other volunteers to continue their efforts at notifying the community of the missing student, doing what they could to find information on her whereabouts, and other activities that were in vain and could also be dangerous in light of what police knew.

....so i could on about the facts like that, but it's really been a murky fuck-up. it's like the keystone cops up there. dekalb is a farm town, a small town for sure, with the college life being the main "culture" outside of the rural. i am not in any way slamming the rural life; after all, i'm a midwesterner, born and bred, and I respect the back-breaking, financially perilous work that farmers do (although i'm pleased to report that i've known some IL farmers who have been quite wealthy and NOT from selling off to retail or whatever, but i digress...).

what i'm saying is that i'm sure what the police and niu are doing and have already done was for the sake of "public relations and image." and when i make an accusation like saying they're "keystone cops," oh, yes, i realize it's an old stereotype of rural, small-town cops. i said it, wrote it, because it's the truth. they have made me so ashamed, so so so disgusted and angry and ASHAMED to be any part of them, alumni, resident of the state, whatever. not to mention the fact that i come from a family THICK with police officers, police support staff such as 911 operators, and attorneys. i know about "P.R." in cases like this, ok? i understand that the police can't "tip their hand" to the murderer and all that shit. and you know what? they could have handled this 1,000% better and more appropriately and still done their jobs. so i sure hope i don't hear them come out later, with any "hindsight is 20/20" bullshit, because that's horsecrap. and hey, horse crap, they should know about out there. ha. dig.

seriously now. tonight the news is that there is a "person of interest" which we all know means a person who will be a suspect once we are sure we have the evidence (or the right guy). keeping consistent with prior form, the police have not said where, only that this p.o.i. is being held in another state (indiana? florida? hawaii?) where he committed some crimes. extradition is said to be "pending." ohhh lawd. will the state in question even extradite this guy???? is anyone from dekalb/niu going out to speak to him or question him? does anyone know what they're doing with a suspect (oops, person of interest) in these circumstances? because, oh, by the way, they don't accept help from other police departments from what i'm told.

there's a lot more to say, the kind of information swirling in my head that i really should make an outline of, and then write it in an appropriate form, like a legal research paper or whatever, a legal opinion essay more realistically. people don't think you know what you're talking about when you just spout off, i realize, but i know what i'm talking about, believe me. or don't. i could give a shit. the main thing tonight is that i hope and pray someone somewhere (a police officer, ideally) is ON the person who did this horrible crime to this poor girl (IF it turns out the remains are hers and this is what happened to her, which is not certain but seems very likely, sadly). also, my prayers and i know that prayers of students and alumni all over the community are with her family, who are the newest victims in all of this: at least we can hope toni is at peace somewhere now...

NOW LET'S GET JUSTICE, ANSWERS, AND THE HOPE FOR EVENTUAL PEACE FOR TONI'S FAMILY.

A Rambling (Stream o' Consciousness)

2010-10-14T10:48:00.001-05:00

hooooo...ohhhkay. as you might have guessed (or hell, maybe not), i've been wanting to write more frequently in this blog, and dammit, i'm going to do it, i AM doing it... also, i've been wanting to write a little bit differently, maybe with a different level of openness, different authenticity, whatever, MORE of all that. this sounds silly when i say it (write it, whatever) to y'all, but what i'm about to try and describe is so true for me at this exact point in my life:

i don't know whether this is common throughout creative writing classes in the whole u.s. or the world over, but my writing education steeped me in the training of how to use what's commonly referred to as stream-of-consciousness writing. i was taught to do this as a form of journaling, brainstorming, getting past writer's block and basically any other time that i needed to get my feelings or the "junk" that is blocking them onto paper. it doesn't always work for me, but usually it does, pretty damn well.

another way that this might work -- and i say might only because it's a method i was reading about literally only 2 or 3 days ago and thus haven't tried it yet for myself -- is to write your feelings or thoughts or (this was the specific exercise suggested in the book i was reading) the answers to specific questions you ask yourself about your life, your future. but the catch is you write the answers down using your non-dominant hand! so, yes, folks, to do it properly, it requires a good old-fashioned pen-and-paper i suppose. but you could always transfer what you wrote onto the computer if you wish to journal it and keep it for future reference. the author who was explaining this method had a fairly lengthy chapter about why and how this works and why it's worth it doing and practicing (he went so far as to suggest you might eventually even get in touch with your sixth sense, psychic abilities, etc.. but i'm not going to go there for now, not for this post. ask me about the book if you are interested in knowing all about the specifics, k?).

so, i suppose i'm being extremely verbose just to tell my readers that i'm going to try and write in a more casual format for awhile now. you know what it is? probably my big fat ego! i'm an educated and sometimes-professional writer/editor, and probably what it comes down to is the fact that i can't bear to write a blog without punctuation and all that shite without EXPLAINING. ahhh well. at least i know myself. somewhat. and truly, i often feel that writing is one of the only "gifts" or talents or whatever that i have, one of the only shots i have at being in a career or successful or something like that (this is usually how i feel more when i'm being overly emotional rather than reasonable and planning my life logically). so this is whence and why i get this way, act this way ... am i just so insufferable?

well, here's part 2 of my whole "thing." i've been working on a separate blog, also written in casual format like this. i've been practicing and sort of exploring where i truly want it to take me, what kinds of things i truly want to write about and how they differ from what i write here. now i'm going to try the same thing here, and maybe the two will become one. if they don't, then i have a problem with this one, and it is that i don't feel comfortable being open here. i can guess a number of reasons for that, but i'm not going to worry about it yet. i'm going to push myself to create an open journalistic/memoir blog here, just like i set out to do in the beginning. for the time being, i'll use my private one to try out ideas, to write rough drafts, etc.

i've gotten flak over the years, in addition to openly-confused questions, from all sorts of people online, as well as those who know me in "real" life; they want to know why we bloggers (those who write blogs as personal expressions, as records or diaries of our lives anyway) feel compelled to share our struggles, our mistakes, even our illegal activities at times, with the world. some people have become hostile toward me, expressed hateful opinions toward others who blog in this manner, because they don't understand, don't approve, whatever.

it's not that i owe anyone a fucking explanation, because i know that i don't, please believe. in fact, i am damn unapologetic about most of my life (except ignoring punctuation and such, teehee), even or especially when it flies in the face of supposed social mores. but oh, i suppose now i'm getting into what should be my next post, or some subsequent one. people have a problem with my blogging about real life, my personal life, my issues, concerns, feelings, anger, etc. because you know, what if you are a person in my "real" life, and what if i'm mad at you? what if i hate something you've done? what if i'm just flat out annoyed with you right now? what if i hate your fucking stupid taste in music? what if you pissed me off with a "typical" comment this week and i didn't say anything and i want to brood about it right here on my blog before i address it with you? ya know?

well, this is the type of thing i've been trying to settle in my mind, sort out, write out, divvy up with my left hand as guide, etc. and for the record, those examples of petty arguments, anger, irritations, etc. were NOT specific events going on right now toward any specific people in my life right now, so don't even go there, people who know me!!!!! what i'm saying is this, and i suppose that for some folks out there reading, it might be one of the most important parts of this post:

i have decided that i am not going to censor myself in writing endeavors; thus, reading or not reading this is all up to you, and perhaps whatever i write does not affect your life to the point of affecting any real change in your emotional status, etc. and that's great. because the bigger my audience, be they raging lunatics or adoring fans, the happier this writer blogger girl is.

that is all for now.

Recovery

2010-09-30T19:05:00.000-05:00

Okay, fine, I guess I might as well admit that this whole thing with my cat has me scared shitless. What a nerd. What a wimp. I don't want to leave him, and I can't get interested in movies or books or anything, not even my writing very much, until I see that he is ... well, until he is himself. I never had a cat before Dorian, and although I've had him now for over six years, those have been blessedly healthy, incident-free years for the most part. Having his three teeth pulled, and all the anesthesia, anti-biotics, pain-killers, mushed-up food, etc., that entails, is waaaay beyond anything that he and I have previously experienced. It's also beyond what either of us -- and I'm fairly certain I can speak for both cat and myself here -- expected. He once had dental work a couple of years ago, but it was only a cleaning ... and yes, the anesthesia confused him and made him totter around in a haze for a few days, but it wasn't like this. He only hid out under the bed that time for a few hours, then woke up and heard my boyfriend and I downstairs talking and singing out to him of treats and fresh food ... and he came down to play and snuggle. Soon all the trauma was forgotten...

This is more difficult, because if I offer a treat, it will have to be a soggy one, that I have softened with warm water like his other food (canned and "wet" food are available to him here, but he's always hated them); I'm hoping and yet doubtful that he will like this formulation. Also, for the next 9 days, I will have to remain a dubious enemy of sorts, trying to create a routine wherein I am able to shoot a syringe full of amoxicillin down his throat twice a day. I feel like this will make his forgetting my transgressions (car ride, entrapment in cat-carrier, abandonment at the vet, etc) much more difficult.

The thing is, I've always been confident in the fact that if I'm doing what's right for him, and it's keeping him strong and healthy, then the rest will come, because clearly, I love the little dude to bits! But I've never faced a situation where what I had to do made him seem so very UNhappy. I mean, not for such a long time. I'm sure those of you who have HUMAN children think I'm an idiot, going on about all of this shit, but the fact remains that I've never had to raise a child, never had to care for anyone who is very sick, and never had to nurse my beloved pet through much of a difficult recovery. Just like I have not had a child grow into a teenager who tells me she "hates" me, I have never before had a cat who usually licks and purrs and cuddles with me, who heralds my homecoming on a daily basis with happy meows, behave like he FEARS and/or LOATHES me. And if it isn't personal, then he's simply reacting badly to what he's been through, and he's depressed and lethargic. Either way, it's bad. And I've not had a cat before, and I'm never sure what's a "normal" reaction and what should constitute a call to the veterinary clinic. My vet is very good, very understanding, and they have never made me feel like a pain or like I was being ridiculous about something ... they are just as devoted to animals as the most loving pet-owner, so that's all good.

I can only effing IMAGINE myself as a mom, now more than ever! I mean, I keep saying oh, I've never before had a cat, so I don't want to be hysterical but also I don't want to miss the signs of anything that's wrong... If I had a child, for the love of God, I'd be doing this every damn day probably! Oh the humanity. And I know that in the grand scheme of everything, it's sort of small-minded and un-important and, well, dumb, to sit and be all upset about the cat not "liking" me right now or being "mad" or whatever. But it's a perfect storm: I've had a hard year, I've been alone at home with only Dorian for a companion a lot more than any other year, and we've been best mates in a way, you know. When I've been sick with my migraines, he seems to "get" it, and he lies by my side in bed, patiently waiting, for HOURS sometimes before being fed or getting a clean litterbox, when I'm able to get up and do these things, or to have a friend come from work to help or whatever. He's a smart little guy, and loyal in a very uncommon way for a cat, and well, I miss him and don't like it when he's avoiding me. And when I say that, write it, even THINK it, I know I sound stupid, but oh well, it's true.

Well, I just replenished his un-touched water and checked on him. The latter consists of my pulling up the bedspread to look at his eyes and poke or prod him so that I can see how he's breathing, THAT he's breathing. He usually glares at me, edges away to where I can't reach him (I've always found it fascinating the way that a cat can move to a point EXACTLY beyond your reach, no more and no less, so that you reach out to pet him and your fingertips just miss, haha), and then I go back to my couch where I'm watching TV and not doing anything productive, getting so excited when my friends/family call or come over to keep me company. What a case I am, huh? I have to say that it was a little bit funny in the night last night; I was sleeping (not in the room where he hides), but I woke up three different times because I heard him meowing... And there he was, in a place outside my door where I could see him, just staring at me and meowing. But when I got up on my elbow and spoke to him, he darted back to his hidey-hole. I pictured a cartoon cat soon to be standing up on hind legs over me with a human-size carrier, or a medicine syringe like the one I gave him, or something (a shiny blade?!), laughing maniacally, hovering over me as I slept.

OH! He walks! He just came out a few times to peer at me with a very serious and stoic look! He came as far as our living room to size everything up. This is good progress! And just in time, 'cuz I'm stirring up a batch of warm water with dry kibble for him, which should puff and soak satisfactorily in a few minutes! MMMM. I'll keep you all posted.

Separation Anxiety

2010-09-29T12:16:00.002-05:00

Yes, I'm BACK! This is a happy event (coming back to my main blog) for me, as I'm sure it is for my loyal ~~readers~~ reader.

However, I feel all out-of-sorts. I can't decide whether to take a nap or to try to stay busy ... and I think the latter will lead to mania, with me just running around and starting various projects, which no doubt need to be done but none of which I will finish. The whole thinking process about all of it just exhausts me, and then I guess I should just take that nap... But I have some new books, and maybe I could read, and I'm just out-of-sorts!

The problem? My precious baby Dorian-Cat is at the Vet today. For the whole day. He's being put under anesthesia and getting his teeth cleaned. At his recent appointment they found some pretty bad gum irritation and tooth decay starting, and he might have to have one tooth pulled. I didn't know how prone he was to this problem, but I have resolved to work on teeth-brushing with him. He will hate it, but it's better than this!!!!

I had to take my Dori to the vet clinic by 8 a.m. and will not be able to pick him up until 5... I have done this once before, and everything was just fine. I like my vet, and my cat was great, he did great, and he was sleepy but healthy, everything worked out... But I hate it so much! It's really obvious to me today how much our lives at home are intertwined! I got up off the couch and was gingerly putting my feet down, just in case he was lying there, like I always do, because he tends to get under foot. But then of course, I realized, he's not here! Then the guys who do lawn work at our apartment complex came by, and they had the loud leaf-blower out, and I jumped up to shut the door, because Dori hates that... but I realized that it won't bother him if he's all the way at the clinic. I hate this! It's the weirdest thing ever to be at home with my cat NOT at home. It's like what? Why would he be away somewhere? He doesn't go on play dates or anything, like, without me.

I do not care if I sound like a poorly-adjusted, co-dependent, over-attached cat mom. I don't like him to be there, or anywhere, without me. He only trusts me 100%. He trusts a few other humans close to that, but believe me, they ain't at the veterinary clinic. Oh, sadness... Oh, anxiety... I want my baby back! I must pass the time now, so that soon they will call and the day will be done.

Hiatus

2010-09-19T14:58:00.000-05:00

Hey everyone... I don't want those of you who are loyal readers (there are a few, yes) to keep visiting and finding that I haven't posted .... but I've been having a difficult time getting my words onto paper (so to speak) lately, just a hard time all around. Also, I'm working on a little side project, another blog of sorts ... and once it's "ready" I will be inviting some of you who have been reading and commenting here to come be members there. More info on that later... Anyway, just wanted to post and let you know I'm taking a small hiatus from this one (maybe a week to two weeks), but I certainly WILL be back! xo

Peace Times Generation

2010-09-11T20:27:00.000-05:00

I don't know how to write about today. It's always interesting to me, especially as the years go by, to hear where people were when they found out, when they "heard." I don't remember another event like that, the kind where everybody can talk about how their world stopped and they never forgot that moment in time ... exactly where they were and what they were doing... since I was a child and the space shuttle Challenger crashed. I was in third grade then, and there had been a plan for us to watch it take off on TV. TV's in classrooms were not the norm in my school in that time, and when we did have them, it was mostly to watch a tape of something educational. I don't know that the school even had a proper TV antenna. I don't remember. Maybe someone was going to bring the TV into the classroom (because they were always on rolling carts that teachers had to sign up to use and pass around) and show us a recording of the lift-off. It must have been early in the morning, and I don't know whether we would have been at school. I just remember that the teacher broke the news to us that there had been a horrible accident, and that the Challenger had not lifted off as planned, that it had exploded. I believe we were to ask our parents to explain it further to us.

I mention all of this, because I grew up in a generation that was extremely unique in at least one way. The kids that I grew up with and I only ever knew peace times. I mean, there were scuffles and military involvement in different events during my life, yes. But not like what's going on now. And not like Vietnam or any war that came before it.

I should stop here and point out that I do realize a "generation" is defined differently by many different people, and depending on context. For my purposes, I'm speaking of the kids who came of age, say grew up and became teenagers, with me... Let's say about 7 years time. My brother is 7 years younger than I am, and his own classmates definitely have their own "generation" with its own music and culture and experiences ... some overlapping mine, but many new and all their own.

I was a Junior in High School when the United States entered into the Gulf War. Even then, I don't believe that my generation gained much understanding of what it means to be at war, to go to battle, to face a world wherein bloodshed is being caused by and happening to our own military on a large scale. If you were someone who had a personal relationship to a soldier or other military member who fought in the Gulf War, that's different. I understand that having personal involvement changes everything, especially for those who lost someone. And what I write here is not intended to belittle the efforts of such people in any way; in fact, quite the opposite. Because if you were like me and so many Americans growing up then, the Gulf War just looked like the United States triumph we were taught to expect. Even the news was not all that serious (anyone remember the "scud stud," i.e. Arthur Kent?), full of quick justice being dealt by the U.S. before the mighty military came on home to celebrate and laugh at anyone who would challenge our super-power nation. That is the attitude and confidence, however falsely founded, that I was taught.

I now know that it is a very blessed and unique thing, for which I am full of gratitude, to grow up in such a world, where my country seemed like a safe and mighty fortress in which to live. My generation never knew fear, not the particular kind that enters into a land and sits with its people night after night, when a nation is at war.

As High School graduation approached for my class and those behind us, many kids announced their plans to enlist in a branch of our military. Some kids had already entered into ROTC programs. The woman that I am today is unspeakably ashamed to tell this, but it's the truth nonetheless: these kids were usually regarded as the ones who didn't have any other options. I mean, the general thinking of the day was: why wouldn't you go to college, or get a job making some money, go get married, etc., after High School? The only good reason to join our military was because you needed money for college and couldn't get it any other way, or to learn a "trade," as the advertisements promised, because you weren't interested or capable of getting into college or getting a good job right out of school. When recruiters came to our school and were allowed to set up a table in our cafeteria (but not to approach us ... they could only speak to interested parties who approached them), most kids just ignored them. If you were seen getting information from the recruiters or talking to them, it was just like this weird stigma... like oh, look, there's a kid who has to go into the military, he/she has no other options.

I did not take notice of this ideology one way or another until years later. I had my own plans and was very determined to stay on my own "right track" at that time. No, I was not one of those who made fun of other kids for going to the military or any other reason. I didn't judge people, as I don't now. But looking back, I know that the kids were judged. And I've spent a lot of time trying to figure out why.

To learn about that war and so many other aspects of what our country has done, been like, etc., I've had to educate myself. I did not learn most of the things I feel are very important about our nation's place in the world until after college, when I took it upon myself to ask questions of relatives and friends, to read all the books and other literature I could find, to know this place where I grew up safe and sheltered.

Today, largely because of what happened on September 11, 2001, I live in a different environment, a different world of ideas and ideals. Now I have lived to see the boys who are of age voice their opinions on what they would do should another draft be put into effect. Now I have known grown men (and a few women), my former classmates and my friends, who have enlisted. Now I have communicated with guys from my neighborhood, my generation, all over the world, some who have been sent into battle and some who have not. Now I'm living in the world that most people have always lived in, the one in which wars break out, the one in which war changes everything, the one in which people go away to serve those of us living here at home, and sometimes they don't come back. I am sobered and humbled and matured by these experiences and this knowledge. I have changed along with the world in which I live, along with my country. I, like everyone else, changed on that September day, for always.

If you are among the many people from all over the world who lost someone on September 11, God bless you. My prayers and thoughts are always with you, not lessened at all by the time that has passed. I will not be one who forgets that day.

If you or your loved ones are fighting for us, or stationed and trained anywhere in the world prepared to do so, my heart and thoughts are with you. I pray that God will bless you and keep you and bring you back home to peace times again. And I thank you for serving this country that I love.

A Good Week!

2010-09-03T15:56:00.001-05:00

This was a much-improved week. Started out last Saturday (close enough to the "start" of the week for me!) with tickets to the Sox-Yankees game, which was here at home... Home being U.S. Cellular Field in south-side Chicago, for those who don't follow baseball. It's so sad that, although I've been a major baseball fan since birth, I've only been to "the Cell" (as the Sox park is nicknamed) once since it was named and built. It used to be Comiskey Park, waaaay back in the day, and I'd been there, but this park is a lot different.

I didn't bring my camera, and I can't believe it now! I had no freaking idea or memory of the fact that the Cell has these amazing 360-degree views (obviously, depending on what gate you are standing by, the level you are on, etc) of the entire city skyline! It was GORGEOUS! The night couldn't have been more PERFECT for an evening baseball game, although the Yankees beat us. But I mean, this view is breath-taking! If you come to our city, I guarantee you won't get this view anywhere else except maybe the Willis/Sears Tower. But of course there you can't take an outdoor picture (at least, not to my knowledge ... if they're letting people go outside up there nowadays, then, no one has informed me!).

I really wish I'd brought my camera, but see, I was all befuddled by the security measures that allowed only small backpacks/purses/bags into the park. I read that beforehand, and perhaps now would be the time to inform those who don't spend time with me personally that I always carry a huge bag or backpack with me. I just can't seem to get away from it. I have my various magazines, medicines (especially those), my e-reader, etc. etc. on and on! And I just have to schlep everything and don't mind doing it. But these days, you have to check on such matters, because many places won't let you bring your huge bag of migraine meds and magazines (haha) into their facility, depending on what it is. Ok, so I digress as usual ...

So I had packed all my essential crap into a purse (yes, I do own a few, but rarely use 'em) and just didn't know or have the mind-set to deal with the camera. Oh, and I don't have a camera on my phone, if you can even imagine, haha, because my phone is like 5 years old and doesn't even know what a photo IS. It's not that I'm cheap or even that I can't trade my phone in by now for a newer model, but ... every time I go looking at them, I get too overwhelmed. I mean, I really don't NEED all that shit. I have a great camera, a good mp3 player, and quite frankly, I don't even want that crap on my telephone!!! I do, however, wish to surf the internet and text all the time with it. So I don't know, I'll get to that sooner or later... probably later.

Um, so yeah, that was my last-Saturday start to the week, and this week has been pretty darn good. It was soooo good to get OUT with, like, humans! I had a really cool person seated next to me at the game. I mean, my friend Steph, sat on one side, yes. But the one who was a stranger, well, you never know what you're gonna get, but I got a good one. I'll tell you about him in an upcoming post, 'cuz he is a Vietnam Vet and actually deserves his own post.

Steph is a friend I worked with for years at my favorite job; yet we hadn't seen each other for like 5 years probably before going to the game together. And you know what? It was pretty much like no time had passed. I mean, we had lots of catching up to do, but we laughed our asses off and just had the same kind of fun we always had. So it was all good.

I tried to keep my momentum going by getting in touch with friends and family and getting out a little more this week ... yesterday we visited the Lincoln Park Zoo (also in Chicago...Lincoln Park is a neighborhood there). Oh, I took some pictures THERE, you better believe it! So I have lots more to write about. Soon!

2010-08-27T01:15:00.000-05:00

Oh I'm not sure where to start today. I am actually in this strange and awful place wherein I feel the need to write ... and write and write, just to get it out, you know? And at the same time, ick, I just don't even want to hear my own damn voice. I know from writing in school and writing for professional assignments, that it really helps me to just write, almost a stream of consciousness or to utilize writing prompts (I have a book I'm currently using with a topic or prompt for each day of the year). The purpose of this type of writing is just to get all the gunk outta my head so that the real stuff, the real point and purpose of what I want to say can shine through. Maybe it sounds nutty to some, but this is what works for me as a writer.

I guess I'm in a bit of a writer's ... not a block exactly, but some kind of funk. I suspect that even when I try, even when I think that I'm doing it, I am no longer writing or blogging authentically. And in my opinion, if I'm not going to come on with it, as I describe that hard-hitting genuine writing that's so compelling in any sort of first-person narrative ... well, then just hang it up, geez. You might be familiar with one of my favorite bloggers, Anna. Before you click, if you haven't done so in the past, I will tell you that she is an admitted drug addict and she writes a completely honest and therefore completely graphic blog about ... everything that goes on in her life. And I adore her. I mean it. Nope, I don't know the girl. Don't know whether we'd ever be friends or even have anything to talk about if we met. But as a blogger, she is the absolute shit in my eyes. Because it doesn't matter what mental state she's in, doesn't matter what emotion she's feeling, what she's going through ... it's not about the external material for her writing. It's her narrative, her explicit descriptions and reporting on what she feels and sees and thinks and wonders about ... she conveys her humanity quite exquisitely.

I've written like that in my life before. I'm not sure whether I ever did it as consistently as Anna, but I sure as hell came a lot closer to it than I'm doing now. It's not just my blog, it's anything I write. I have a Hub-Page, I write a journal, I do some writing exercises ... it's everything. I'm off my game.

This is depressing to write about. I think the reason I'm off my writing game is that ... surprise surprise ... I'm just "off" in life. Maybe I'm not facing things that I need to face. Maybe I'm not living authentically. Maybe I'm scared of a lot of things right now, and I'm allowing fear to stop me from writing and from living. I think that on some level, I know that at least some of this is true. And ya know what's pathetic? It only makes me loathe myself. I hate myself for it. Every word that isn't what I want it to be, every single time that I see myself as a diminished version of the woman that I was or was becoming earlier in life ... that woman who I could right now definitely and confidently describe to you ... every time I think about the discrepancy between the two, I feel disgusted with myself. That's it. I knew if I wrote about it, I'd get to the bottom of it. I hate where I am right now, hate what I'm doing with my gifts and my talents and the blessings of my life.

Go There, Then Come Back Here

2010-08-19T01:53:00.002-05:00

Okay! Check out this website, because ... because ... you MUST. It makes me laugh, especially when I'm in that sort of bitter-but-not-REALLY and melancholy moods, both of which fuel my cynical "gallows" type of humor. It might also be described as "Office Space" humor.

After you tire of that (as if!), check out my "A Few of My Favorite Things" blog roll to the left. I've begun late-summer cleaning and purging, people!! This list is meant to be a true representation of the blogs (and occasionally other sorts of site) that I do indeed consider "favorite." Therefore, I have deleted a few blogs (perhaps the reasoning behind such decisions will be a forthcoming post itself) and added a few new favorites. If you like my fellow bloggers' words, drop them a comment and say so. After all, your comments are the way that I "met" most of you! And if you hate them, well, hey, it's up to you what you wish to say or refrain from saying! 'Tis the life of us bloggers.

...Because in the meantime, while you're being sent to and fro by, well, me, I have a coupla new blog themes or possibly features and the like which will be posted in the not-too-distant future. I'm taking a new direction with my writing -- and of course that includes TerminallyUniq... STAY TUNED! :)

Fierce?

2010-08-15T19:25:00.000-05:00

Sheesh. As if I weren't already grouchy, cranky, or whatever you want to call it. Now I'm reading this book, and I just have to mention it. It's called "Fierce," and it's a memoir by Barbara Robinette Moss. I guess it's a sequel of sorts to an earlier memoir she wrote that focused more on her childhood; that one was called "Make Me Into Zeus' Daughter." I didn't read that one, because this one appealed to me more with its focus being on her trying to make her way through adulthood. She, like me, and like many of my readers, is an ACOA, an Adult Child of Alcoholic(s). That shitty label can make itself known in many hideous ways, but we all have quite a few things in common; so I like to read memoirs like this. Usually.

But damn, woman! That's what I keep saying as I go through the book. First of all, I got about 10 books in the last month, between loaners from friends, a couple e-book purchases, and the library. And out of the EIGHT I've already peered into, this was one of only TWO that even seemed decent. It was a real strike-out of a book haul this time. I will try to read a little more of my other books, but they don't look too promising so far.

Anyway, the whole time I'm reading this book, I just can't stop shaking my head. I'm bewildered. I mean, okay, I don't know Ms. Moss' exact age; I suppose I could cipher it if I took the time, but I haven't. She must be the age of MY parents, roughly; her own father, the drunk in this scenario, was a WW2 vet. And I know that the times were different when she was growing up, but man, was she naive, even into adulthood, even halfway through this book when she's been divorced twice, lived in 3 states, and had a child! And she just keeps making all of these crap decisions that make me think, Damn, there's a difference between being effed up from an ACOA upbringing and just lacking common sense completely. Wow.

I was drawn to the book, because the e-book store kept suggesting it to me, supposedly because it matched up to my other purchased books. I made note of that, but then I also saw it reviewed on Amazon recently. Oh, there were all these positive reviews about the author's candor and overcoming this and that! It sounded like it would be right up my alley! So I'm going to read it through. I'll give her this: she writes in such a way as to keep me turning the pages, if not feeling sympathetic toward or relating to her. I'll let you all know what I think when I'm finished.

So I might as well mention the other book that I read, last week. It's been on my ever-expanding book list forever, friends have been urging me to read it and saying how much they thought I would like it, on and on. I guess I wasn't clear on the plot or whatever ... it's summary sure doesn't do it justice. It's "The Help" by Kathryn Stockett. Well! I could not believe I had waited so long, with this book just OUT THERE, waiting for me to pick it on up! I simply adored it! I had to think it over, reflect, absorb, all of these things that I do with a beloved book ... and yes, now that I've done that, I can honestly tell you it is one of my Top 15 favorite books of all time. It might be Top 10; I have to sit down and think about my current list. I mean, this is including my favorite so-called "great" literature, my favorite childhood classics, poetry, whatever, all in one collection ... and this book would make the top 10-15. It is wonderful. I loved it.

So there you are! As you know, I don't do any sort of regular book or movie reviews, but hey, if I like or love or hate or am confused by something, I like to discuss. And this weekend I've had one movie and two books ... and it ain't over yet!

Rant!

2010-08-15T10:27:00.000-05:00

I'm so annoyed by the hypocritical and -- perhaps even more -- the Puritanical -- attitudes in this country! So I'm watching the movie, "Kickass," right? I've actually only gotten halfway through it right now, as I'm writing. I'm watching it now, because I bought it OnDemand from my cable company ... I thought I had it for 48 hours, but no... so, then, just having to know how it ended, I bought it again today. I'm not sure the movie is worth the $10 I've now spent on it, but it is good. And funny. I like its originality and spunk. SO the other day, after I'd begun watching it, I was telling a few people about it, and I found that not many of my friends had seen it. I reminded them that it was the movie about the superhero guy that had become controversial because it stars a 13-year-old actress whose dialog includes every swear word you can imagine including words such as "cunt" and of course "fuck" and the like. Just to give you an example, the last two people I told this to, who said they only vaguely remembered the controversy, responded with the argument, "Well, couldn't they have toned it down a little bit then?" Both people said roughly the same thing...

I was like, "NO! WHY WOULD THEY?" This, if you know me, is unthinkable in my opinion. Um, hello, if that's the way the character is written, then why should they "tone it down" when the stupid American "public" says something about it? That is not the way of art or literature or music or ANY creative pursuit!!!!! EVER! It's not just in the dialog for gratuitous name-calling or vulgarity! IT'S THE CHARACTER! Oooh, I was pissed off. I'm so glad the movie got made and people saw it and the role was cast perfectly in my opinion. DESPITE all this bullshit.

I had to wonder whether the whole issue of the little pre-pubescent-looking blond girl in the role of the foul-mouthed super-heroine would have caused such a stir if she had been black or male or Mexican something else that people are more apt to expect vulgarity from? There's no way to know for sure...

You might have heard, in real-life news, that two young men were recently released from jail (or prison or whatever you call it in their case) in Florida ... they are the King brothers, who were sentenced to something like 8 years (I'd have to review the case, as to the specifics) in some form of Juvenile Hall after being found guilty of murdering their father. The unique thing about their case was that they were found guilty of their crime at ages 12 and 13. The jury recommended sentencing for both boys of Life without Parole, but the judge intervened and gave them this sentence which amounted to a second chance for them. I remember the footage, which I saw again last week as the guys were released, of these two tiny little white boys, with their bowl haircuts, who looked even younger than they were. One boy's feet didn't even touch the floor of the witness stand! And while the jury recommended a harsh sentence (I'm not saying it was right or wrong), many people commented on the fact that it was just so hard to look at these little angel-faced babies and think about the possibility of them having murdered their dad.

And then, at the same time, in the same state, there was another case. A 14-year-old boy was being tried for the murder of his mother. I don't know as many details of this case, but I did hear how it turned out. Same thing, where the judge and jury had to consider what to do with such a young person who had maybe committed murder. If he was guilty, do we throw him away? The thing that struck me, though, was that this time the defendant was at least 6-foot tall. He was black, with a stoic, serious face throughout the proceedings (at least in the footage I saw), and a grim mug shot. He stood in court room a full head taller than his defense attorney. I fear that the mere appearance that this boy had, and any ideas or prejudgments people might knowingly or otherwise attach to that appearance would be quite different than the one that the little swinging-feet white boys had. Maybe I'm wrong. And I know that there are individuals among us who have all sorts of non-typical viewpoints and perspectives. But it just makes me wonder.

Anyway, the third boy, the 14 yr old, eventually ended up with a 10-year-sentence similar to that of the King brothers, so I guess you could say all was fair. But the 14 yr old almost exhausted all his appeals trying to get there, and it took a lot longer, and therefore I can only imagine more stress and maybe more money, attorneys' fees, etc. Just made me think about society's perceptions again.

I don't think I have to tell most people that our society will gladly accept a whole bunch of violence, war, blood, rape, guts, and guns as part and parcel of any movie or tv show or video game that's out there, rated PG-13 or higher. But if you want to show a sex scene or use a swear WORD, especially out of the mouth of a little blond girl? Well, MY word! Not without an NC-17 rating on that garbage! And I think that is fucking sick, quite frankly. It's true that words are mighty, that they can hurt and soothe and unite and wound ... this is why we have laws about hate speech and such. But in the majority of contexts, words really are just words. You can swear or not, you can use big, educated words or not, etc. These are just ways we paint the picture of a person, a character, where they might have been, WHO they might have been or are going to be. As a writer, I love words and value them. But I do not believe in giving them so much power that THEY control US. And as for references and depictions of sexuality, especially when it is loving, between two people, not even something "radical" or pushing any envelope? I think it's gross that our society can't bear to look at that, can't bear to allow it in our films or TV, without crying out that it's shameful and improper and lewd.

It seems that only violence, in any and all forms, passes with flying colors. What's wrong with this picture?

My Mum

2010-08-09T20:22:00.000-05:00

Okay! I tried to write about my mum a few times, and each time I got too caught up in so many different topics!!! Methinks that maybe I should write a whole book about her! Or at least I better start penning my memoirs, AND hers as well! Hmm ... maybe we could get together and write a book about ... whatever it was ... like Britney Spears and HER moms did! Yeah!

What I really wanted to convey was the simple-yet-complex fact that I am just so blessed to have my mom. And that today, as every time she is able to go with me, I was ever-so-grateful to have her along at the doctor's office. I always know, whether we discuss it explicitly beforehand or not, that she has my back. And we are so close that we can really read one another and know pretty well what is needed. I know that in a conversation with a doctor-type, where I am leading the talk as the patient and Mom is mostly listening / observing, she is nevertheless alert and aware of all that's going on every second. She will jump in and argue, plead, state a convincing point, or otherwise have me covered if need be. I don't worry about it. And I KNOW that if God forbid I were ever in some sort of "state" where I couldn't speak for myself and make my own demands, she would "come out of the box" as she puts it and tell somebody what's what.

My mom has been instrumental in making me every single thing I am today of which I am proud! She brought me up to be intelligent and curious and sensitive and compassionate and non-judgmental of others ... She instilled in me that the differences between all human beings, be it our skin color or the way that our minds and bodies work or the language we speak or the thing we do especially well -- that it's THOSE things which make the world beautiful and wonderful and divine and blooming with all sorts of music and ideas and art and science and books and jokes and personality! I love that my mom instilled in me the value of diversity in ALL of its forms.

My mom has a lot of other hard-core beliefs that she really and truly lives by; so that I can only hope to follow in her footsteps and do the same, really living authentically in the beliefs that I espouse. But she is also funny and warm and sociable and just always up for doing something FUN!!! My momma taught me that it's of the UTMOST importance to find the joy in life, in EVERY part of life. And what I've really learned to remember is that sometimes you need to go searching for that joy and holding onto it during those times when it seems hardest to locate or when the joys seem to be at their simplest ... when times are tough, you know. I have learned from my mom to laugh in those times, to find what is funny and ironic and joyful and amazing.

There are so many things my mom teaches me all the time, so many things that I have learned and have to keep re-learning because I believe they are essential to leading a good life. A Good Life. Some of my absolute happiest, most joyful moments are spent with my mom! We always find some silly thing to talk about or laugh about or get into a conversation around. And that's on the days when we are cooped up in the car or the doc's office! When we are out on the town, forget about it!!!

I love you, Mum!

To the Doctor Again!

2010-08-09T15:40:00.001-05:00

And so today, I had another doctor's appointment! I hadn't expected to go see the doc again so soon, but his office needed to switch the appointment, then I needed to change it, and blah blah, here we were. Sad to say, I spent the past week working myself up again into a full-on state of permanent panic. Just like the last ... what? four? five? ... times. When I first met him, then the next appt after that, then for SURE the last two times when I wasn't doing very well (those stories you already know), and now today too. I'm a real piece of work, I have to say so myself.

The great thing is, today went wonderfully, just like last time, JUST LIKE LAST TIME! My mom -- BLESS HER (and I'll come back to that in a sec) -- accompanied me again, so that was wonderful; she calms me, helps me laugh even when I'm crabby and nervous, helps me find the I-Pass (because we pay tolls here in Illinois... heard we're one of only 3 states or something ... that true?) and everything like that. She's the best. But we'll get to her, like I said.

Mentally, I think I can say that I am convinced that this doctor is good. What a lame word, good! But what I mean by it in this case is that he is GOOD at what he does (he's an expert!); he's GOOD for me (our personalities don't clash); and he strikes me as a GOOD man. I mean, I don't think I've ever gotten to know one of my doctors well enough to sit in true judgment of him or her as a human being, like, oh what a wonderful person that doctor is, so true and loyal and wonderful and charitable and whatever! All I can know is that he seems to be genuinely trying to help me, not rushed when he's talking to me, not pushing newest drugs on me all the time, not rude to me OR to the people I've brought in with me to appointments (have had that one happen before!), and things like that. I guess these type of things make up that hard-to-pin-down category of "bedside manner" -- although I sure hope never to be bedridden again by a migraine (and I suppose that's another story too).

I'm feeling blessed that this doctor does not even notice the chip on my shoulder that feels so heavy to me, so obvious all the time ... Or maybe it's not that he doesn't notice, but rather that he's seen it before, that practically ALL his patients trudge in burdened by the same, having been through the same before finding him or being "sent" to him from bewildered suburban doctors ... which is how I got there. I don't know. And our working relationship is still fairly young, but now it's solid. And I'm feeling better about that. I'm thinking that possibly ... probably, even ... next appointment will not make me piss myself for a week before-hand. Maybe just the night before? Ha.

Stay tuned for the bit about my mum ...

Question For You...

2010-07-22T13:55:00.000-05:00

I just got home from a short getaway to Milwaukee, where I have family... that was a mini-vacation that I so needed! Yesterday was wonderful; it really kicked off summer! Yes, it might sound a little late for that, but around here, summer didn't begin until July ... June was cold, rainy, and gloomy. However long it lasts, this is the real summer kick-off!

So we went to the beach on Lake Michigan... just across from, well, here! We have beaches, beautiful ones actually, right here in Chicago, on- you guessed it -- Lake Michigan too. But I couldn't help but notice the vast differences. I thought I'd put the question to readers of this blog; because my friends in places like Facebook or Twitter are people who live here, grew up here with me, or are in some way too close to "here" to give a good answer. I'm wondering ... what is the general impression you have of CHICAGO? The people? The racial atmosphere? The crime? The culture? Fashion? Like, if you have ever visited, or if you imagine yourself visiting, what do you expect you'd find, in either good ways or bad? PLEASE don't hold back or worry about offending me!!! I definitely won't be offended on behalf of a city; I'm not that type, please believe. I'm really curious about how what I see living here for so long matches up with what others think, based on perhaps movies, rumors, or whatever else plants an image of a distant, unvisited place in our minds...

I started to wonder about this, because Milwaukee is a completely different world, despite being another big city, with a diverse population, on the same lake, etc. At the beach, what stood out the most to me, immediately, was that every color of person was there, all mixing together, all in line at the snack bar, all laying out on towels, etc. In my experience, I don't see this at the beach in Chicago or the surrounding area. The beaches I've been to have always been predominantly white white white! Woo! I mean, the glare from the sun, sand, water, and all those white people will hurt your eyes!!! Hahaha... If you live in the area of the beach, then you have upper-class money, so that might be part of it. I have no idea. Without delving into the differences and the divides, which are always infinitely complex, it's just an observation. If you know me at all through my writing, then you know I prefer the Milwaukee beach.

So I'm putting the question out there; because I'm a passionate, if amateur, anthropologist, to the end. No matter what I'm doing or where I go, I can't help but want to know how people are interacting and why and what influences their bonds and their conflicts. Sometimes I wish I could turn it off, but I usually can't. If I can't go directly to the source of something I'm wondering about, then I try to get my information from as direct a source as possible. I'm a nerd in so many ways, always in pursuit of some (pseudo)intellectual study or curiosity, despite not holding a degree in it or getting paid. Speaking of that, I should try to find a way to parlay all of this into SOME kind of job ... hmmm...

Well, moving on ... the day at the beach was so great... I really need the sun, the activity, the exercise: my brother and I were paddling for our lives by the last leg of our Paddle Boat tour... sweat was pouring down my neck and my temples (the sweat pattern I usually think of a MAN having, ugh!!!), my brother was saying his legs hurt ... Oh it was very sad really. For me, it was so pathetic. I was an athlete growing up, always keeping to a strict regimen of workouts and "right" eating, etc. I was a 3-sport letter (wo)man, etc., you know the type. Honestly, only a little of my decline can be owed to lack of self-discipline or "laziness" or whatever. It has all fallen apart as my Disorder(s) have had to become my priority. I was thinking about that even before the paddle-boat experience; how I would really like to have my symptoms controlled, or better yet, gone ... to the point where I could do things like work and exercise regularly, routinely... Those two words have become impossibilities for me over the last few years, and it shows. Worse almost was having to learn to accept the fact that this was so.

Ever since my last treatment plan went into effect, July 2, I've been at least 50% improved in terms of pain, concentration, fatigue, and other major symptoms. That is wonderful, for sure! I am hoping so much that it lasts, that I can work with the doc to really fine-tune it over the next few visits, next few months, to build a trend of improvement. But I just never know. Two weeks is two weeks, no more and no less. It doesn't mean it can't back-slide, but it also doesn't mean it can't get even better. I have to do everything I can to support my body in healing. I am so excited for the day that I really can LIVE again. I haven't given up on that goal. Last fall, I lived that for about 4 months, my longest run of good health ever in my adult life. So I hope to get that goin again...

Notes from My Book-Selling Days...

2010-07-15T16:10:00.000-05:00

As I might or might not have mentioned before ... I spent a lot of years as a manager in a book store ... a couple of different locations actually, all within one large book seller that you all know well (at least in the U.S. ... I think in other countries too). I shant mention it specifically, but you know the type: big store, selling multi-media, usually with entire sections - if not entire floors -- dedicated to Children's Books, DVD's, Music, and some sort of cafe. I can actually only think of two big ones that operate right now, so take your pick.

Although working in the retail business in general is, well, hell on earth- no other way to put it, I did enjoy many parts of my career in the book world. Actually, what I really came to learn and love was all sorts of new music and all about the music industry. I suppose I applied to the job at first thinking that maybe, just maybe, I'd be placing myself in proximity to an author or agent or some publishing person that might, just maybe, "discover" me and MY writing! What I learned was that in reality, the "book people" hardly ever had contact with us. Books are churned out in printing presses, warehoused, inventoried, and ordered, all without any authors or agents being personally involved at all. HOWEVER, the music situation was quite different.

I don't know whether it's the same now (it has been about 7 years since I left the biz), but when I worked at the stores, the music labels would send local representatives to each location on a regular basis. For example, our rep from Sony would come and bring promotional cd's from new artists, sometimes from well-known artists with new work out, etc. He was also in charge of all displays around the store having to do with Sony artists, so he would put up different posters and ads and the like, within Sony's given allotment of space. The thing was, being a manager and developing a friendly relationship with these reps, yielded awesome results!

Through Sony and a few other major labels (who also repped their subsidiaries and thus exposed us to some great new music not being played anywhere else), I was allowed to request certain cd's for my store or personal use, ANYTHING under their label! I explored so many genres of music and different artists that I otherwise never would have heard about! It was great, a real education, a FUN education! The record labels also gave me tickets to baseball games and invites to their record label holiday parties (more freebies to be had!). It was the closest I had ever been to being an "insider" of some kind! It was really, really fun! And no, I have no loyalty to the Sony conglomerate ... I just can't remember which label was which with some of the other reps! Sony definitely gave out the most free shit. :)

...The thing that got me thinking about all of my happy times in book world was earlier today, when I was having a phone conversation about authors and which stores in my area seem to get the best ones to come out for signings, etc. We got on to the subject of emerging literary "stars," and how it would behoove these stores to grab such writers just as their star is rising ... later on, they cost too much! My friend on the phone used Alice Sebold as an example, and we recalled how when "The Lovely Bones" was released, we were able to watch that book absolutely explode onto the scene, and the author emerge from anonymity to super-stardom.

I was reflecting on what a cool thing that is to see. At least, to someone like me! As a book seller, we would go from being completely unaware of an author, literally having zero books on the shelf by that person ... to five days later being in full combat mode, trying to get the most copies the fastest and keep 'em coming! It really happened that fast. One Monday I would go to work, and I'd get a few phone calls inquiring about a certain title... I'd order it or give other information for the callers... Then throughout the day, I'd hear my co-workers ordering it, maybe I'd see a review in a daily newspaper, etc. Throughout that week, calls and inquiries just reached fever pitch ... oftentimes one out of every two customers who entered the store wanted to know about this book. By the weekend, I would receive notifications from our warehouses announcing dates and quantities when I could expect shipments of the title. Usually over that weekend I'd see more reviews or a friend would mention reading the book, I'd see that the author would be appearing on this or that tv show ... and voila! By the next Monday, everyone knew the book, its author, and we couldn't keep it in stock. With "The Lovely Bones" and "The DaVinci Code" and others like it ... We'd literally stack them everywhere- behind the cash tills, behind the information desk, behind themselves on the shelf, up in the rafters, everywhere! Because customers were always asking, and then you could simply grab one for them from ... wherever! As a manager, it was astonishing at first to realize that even with books stacked to the ceiling quite literally, every weekend would see us turning people away until the next shipment. Crazy.

Oh, and although the aforementioned titles, along with several other Best-Sellers of the past decade, were driving insane sales, nothing in my career ever, ever approached the hysterical and non-stop demand for the Harry Potter books. I worked in the book biz when the last book came out in hardcover ... We had the local POLICE controlling the crowds ... who incidentally camped outside our doors all night to be first in line. That was the front lines baby!

Skip This One if Open Wounds Gross You Out...

2010-07-11T21:44:00.000-05:00

I do believe the blog is back up and running! Haha, if it is, then you're looking at my robots-and-friendly-aliens background, right? Probably won't keep that background forever, but it made me smile and felt sort of fun and whimsical...

Ugh, what a week! I feel like the 4th of July, and that whole weekend was FOREVER ago! I started it off with great news about my doctor's visit and all of the happy times I was (& still am, don't worry) expecting to follow ... but it seems I had some resting and waiting to do before diving into all those things I wanted to do when my headaches got better.

And my headaches ARE better!!!! OH HAPPY DAY!!! GLORIOUS, SUNSHINEY DAY!!!! For the past week, I have been nearly headache-free! The couple of times I had the beginnings of a migraine, I took the lowest dose of medication possible, and it went away for good. Most of the week, I didn't even need medicine. Already! The new treatments seem to be working already!

However, I got this stupid infection somehow called Oral Thrush. It's all been so gross, I won't even go into detail. If you know what it is, well, then you KNOW. So I got medication for that, and it cleared up within days, ok, no problem, right? YES, problem... because I am prone to canker sores, which are painful when you have like one of them at a time. Weeeelll, this week I learned about something called a Complex Canker Sore attack. Yes, it happens just like it sounds: attack of the canker sores. A LOT of them. Painful. At all different stages of coming and going. For days and days! At its worst, I was in so much pain that even drinking to stay hydrated was almost too difficult. All I ate was fudgesicles and a few milkshakes. Swollen glands. Extreme fatigue! I was getting scared! I mean, I have always been one to get a mean ol' canker when I've been under stress or not getting enough sleep or something like that. In fact, right after my LAST visit to the doctor, I got one. It was stressful, just like going into this one was. But for whatever reason, this time the gates of mouth hell just opened up...

Who knew that a stupid canker sore, usually no more than an annoyance, a sensitivity for a day or two, could render one unable to properly hydrate oneself?! Aching with swollen glands? Unable to do everyday activities because of the physical exhaustion/fatigue?! Tomorrow, I'm s'posed to see the dentist unless I wake up completely healed or something. I've got to remember to ask him whether this is, like, the absolute WORST case he's ever seen or something... that is, if he doesn't just fall out with shock from it all before I can ask. That would pretty much confirm it.

TECH ISSUES!!

2010-07-07T12:04:00.004-05:00

UPDATE @4:55 p.m. CST.... It's a frackin' nightmare! OHHH the humanity! I can't tinker with it anymore tonight ... at least not until I have had a) MINIMUM one more cup of coffee AND b)ice cream in some form, preferably shake form. Bear with me please! xo

UPDATE @3:10 p.m. CST ... I grabbed a new template, took the one named "Awesome, Inc." (fitting, yeah baby!), and made sure the colors worked (i.e. didn't blind anyone and weren't invisible) ... I THINK we have a winner! I fiddled with the width of different parts just to make sure. The right margins, which hold my beloved "gadgets" will be dealt with next, as they now have the sickness. STILL don't understand why Blogger would publish this mess, with words bleedin' out past the SET margins, but what do I know? If this works, I'll keep it until I learn a little more! I want to WRITE, not do graphic design dammit! :*)

Yes, I see that the blog is bleeeeeeding
into the right column... a mystery, as the body
column has "set" borders and width ... I am
trying to get Blogger expert help with
this... but if any other users have any ideas,
by all means, chime in!!!

First, the Update!

2010-07-06T18:44:00.000-05:00

...Thank you to everyone in my life, on the blog as well as in "real" life, who prayed for me or left comments of hope and inspiration either here or on my "social networking" sites. I believe deeply in the power of prayer and putting positive intention or thought or ideas (there are a lot of different theories about this, with a lot of various corresponding terms, all meaning basically the same thing ... all of which I won't delve into at this time!) out into the universe, or if you prefer, into God's ear. I know that it works, and you all helped me this past week!

As I said in the last post, my big, frightening doctor's appointment was Friday morning. I had worked myself up into an absolute frenzy by the time the morning came. Going against all that I know I should do in the face of anxiety, I just gave in and became hysterical. I felt too scared and too weak to stop it. I had the support of my friends and family though; they offered me their undying patience when I wanted to talk and recite every fear over and over again, and have them repeat back to me why they were all unlikely to transpire the way I imagined, etc.

As it turns out, the appointment went EXCEPTIONALLY GREAT!!!!!! I was wonderfully stunned! It's somewhat rare in this life that we have occasion to be stunned in that GOOD way, actually shocked into silence over the pure joy and relief of an event. I just soaked it in, speechless afterward. When I could speak again, later, when I could at least think words in my head, I just thanked God again and again. And I got down to the business of thanking everyone who has helped me.

To be a little more specific, the doctor, with whom I'd gotten off to such a shaky start, was more than willing to listen to what has been going on. He was very patient, even when he decided that my very last "quick question," posed as he was opening the office door at the end of the appointment, required a blood test. He didn't act like that threw him off or I was making him late or anything. I brought my mom IN to the office with me, but the conversation went so well from the start that I didn't need her to jump in or anything. However, when the conversation turned to my A.D.D., she did provide support for my examples of symptoms that have been worse lately, as well as things we noticed as far back in my life as kindergarten or earlier (without knowing they were "symptoms"). It was good to have my mom right there, saying yeah, that is true, I saw it...

One of my friends reacted to my good news by saying, Wow, was this even the same doctor as before?? And I get how he feels .... maybe a little cautious after those last few times when the doc upset me. Like, what, is this guy Jekyll - and - Hyde and we are never going to know who he'll be at any given appointment? But I'm giving him the benefit of the doubt now, because ... well, because the first appointment was one of many that he had squeezed in during what I think was a terribly stressful time for his office, maybe even for him personally. When my former doctor disappeared ... there are just so many strange things about that. When you look at all the facts (another time), you can only really deduce that my former doctor must have done something really bad, really PERSONALLY bad, to his boss. I think it was personal, and their relationship ended. So if that was the case, I can see why my doctor (current) would be going through a hard time. Plus, he was trying to maintain order in his business, when all hell was breaking loose in every aspect. He was nice to me at Appointment 1 anyway, just not very personable and we didn't get into much detail about anything. So I had no idea what to expect...

The second appointment was the really bad one, the one that broke all my trust and had me reeling, terrified that my whole life and my condition were once again just blowing in the wind, with no advocate in a doctor, no one to trust or get help from, nothing. That was the one where he switched my medicine without explanation, and he seemed just crabby and rude overall, and he told me he needed to test my liver and some other stuff ... seeming to indicate that it was due to my taking more of certain medications than HE would recommend (even though I was doing it on the direction of my previous doctor; not like I had just taken it upon myself to take these medicines extra or anything). He told me then that he would like me to start tapering certain medications down to lower dosages, and I just left feeling like I should be ashamed or he didn't believe I word I said no matter what. Like I was some kid in trouble or whatever. And I truly hadn't done anything except follow the previous doctor's ideas and directions. Ugh! So I was feeling like a pawn between these feuding doctors...

Third appointment, I brought the big guns along: MOM! She is the funnies, friendliest, kindest, most sociable, personable person you could want to meet! She's cute too! But my mom doesn't play when it comes to her kids and other loved ones! This Friday when I picked her up, before we had even left the driveway, and before she had even had a sip of her morning coffee, she stated with a dead-serious gaze: "I will come out of a box! If he starts with you or isn't listening or something, I'm so serious..." That's my mum. She's fun and friendly and loves to laugh, but if you eff with us ... you'll wish you hadn't even gotten out of bed that day. Haha! LOVE HER! So that third appointment was alright, I left thinking maybe things would be okay. It wasn't great, but not as bad. It's just that the results were bad. My whole past six weeks has been awful. And that is how I became so out-of-sorts leading in to my recent visit to the doctor. It was a snowball effect, a combination of being at the end of my rope after literally 6 weeks of almost non-stop head pain and also out-of-control A.D.D. symptoms. Add to that a developing pattern of fear and confusion around my appointments with the doctor I was still getting to know, and boom! Mayhem.

And now? Everything is good. Old wounds are healed. New hope is firmly established. And I am going into this -- into my new treatments and into my fledgling relationship with the doctor -- with restored hope and excitement about building the life that I want. Within the past ONE week alone, I have learned a whole bunch of new stuff about my two main disorders, especially the adult A.D.D., that I never, ever knew before! And it has just kept building my hope that I can learn and grow and learn how to build the life I want. It's so wonderful to feel and realize that everything is not out of my control! Finding an accurate diagnosis and then finding a successful treatment are so life-changing. For now, I'm basking in that relief and joy! Thanks, everyone, for helping make it happen for me!

someone HELP me HELP myself!!

2010-07-01T14:39:00.000-05:00

Whew! It's been a grueling few weeks since I've posted... I think? I didn't even look at the date on my last post, but I think it has been quite awhile. I have to say that I hate when my favorite bloggers begin posting less frequently, then usually follow by neglecting their blogs altogether, posting once or twice every few months, or just leaving their blog to linger in cyberspace forever. I hate that!!! So I am resolved not to do that. If ever I shut this blog down and concede that I am unwilling or unable to continue it, I will for sure make a closing statement of some kind. Perhaps no one out there really considers me her "favorite blogger" by any stretch (ha! except my mom perhaps?). Nevertheless, I am committed to my craft and to finishing what I start. Besides, I love my blog, even if I were the only one who ever read it. I've always been taught that if you're going to do something -- no matter how insignificant you might think it will be or seem to others, or even to yourself -- if you're going to put your own name on something that you created or worked on or anything like that ... well, then you should give it 100% or give it nothing. Maybe it's a bit of a cliche, but I live by that. And it has always served me well.

Okay, so as you can see from my blog post title today, I need your help! YOU: anyone who has experience dealing with doctors effectively, getting treatment effectively, anyone who IS a doctor or nurse and can advise me on the best approach, etc.... I'll be much obliged for any "wise counsel." ...

Here's the short version of my story (the long is told throughout the past posts...): Beginning one year ago, July 2009, I was put on the first treatment plan that truly changed my life, the first time in my adult life that something just made an incredible impact! After seeing my headache specialist several times, we had come up with a medicine-and-other-treatments-plan that was working. I mean it was WORKING! I was happy, I was learning for the first time that all of this mess in my life (fired twice, had to leave jobs I probably would have been fired from twice, now on Disability, due to my physical illness but also this wild disorganization and decreasing trust or understanding of my SELF... just a MESS in my personal and professional life), and things were just wonderful! I felt for the first time in my adult life that I was living a pretty-damn-near-"normal" life. What I wanted to live anyway, the way I wanted to live. Then that doctor I loved disappeared (another long story, but I was told simply that he's "no longer practicing"). Okay, that sucked, but I was transferred to his boss, who is the premier expert in headache management (and co-morbid illness like Depression, Anxiety, ADD, etc) in the Midwest, some would say in the country. So I figured that's great, treatment-wise, that can only be a good thing. It has been ... so-so. He's hard to talk to, hard to read... I'm still learning and building the relationship there.

So then three months ago, I was doing pretty well in terms of both my Chronic Migraine condition and my Adult ADD (a later-in-life diagnosis, which I'm still working on the right treatment for, still learning about). And suddenly, h
e switched my ADD meds. I took it personally at first that he suddenly wanted me to take a new medicine with no apparent reason why, when I hadn't complained of anything being wrong with the other one... Migraines are such a tricky thing; I can't imagine why he would mess with something that was working. BUT for whatever reason, I decided to trust him and try it his way. (I've since learned that MANY patients and parents of patients have had new ADD drugs pushed on them with no explanation when nothing was wrong with their previous regimen. I'm not even going to get into THAT right now).

WELL ... here we are... I'm sick. I went back to the doc about a month ago and he was fine with switching me back to my old, original ADD medicine. I thought the switch was the reason for a sudden decline in virtually ALL my symptoms that occurred pretty much the same week he made that change. But in the month since we changed it BACK, I have gotten worse, rather than improved. So I need to take all of this information to him, and NOT come at him like I want to put him on the defensive, blaming him or anything like that. I don't BLAME him, I just need him and I to work together to figure something out! That's all I am there to do! I need to tell him how things have been downhill, and I really want to come out of there with a plan, either a new medicine or a different dosage or something that we are changing to attack this... It can be more than one thing, whatever!

This is where I panic. My mom is going to come with me for support, which is wonderful. I don't know whether she should come with me IN to see the doctor; would that benefit me or not? See, the root of many of my problems is this weird issue I have with always feeling I need to PROVE that I really AM as sick as I say! I have received feedback from everyone -- friends, doctors, strangers, boyfriends -- consistently telling me that I do not come across as "sick," even when I am in the Emergency Department after vomiting all day with my most severe pain attacks. WTF!!!!! I have analyzed this, and tried to work on it, because, quite frankly, that just won't do!

For one thing, I am an Adult Child of an Alcoholic, and an Oldest Child at that! We textbook cases VERY often learn to adopt an everything-is-A-OKAY-here! attitude even in situations that would dissolve others into blubbering messes of pale-faced snot and tears! We are the ones who take CONTROL and maintain an AURA of CALM and NORMALCY even in the face of completely ridiculous and unacceptable emotional stress, living conditions, abuse, and what-have-you. Until I had undergone many years of therapy, I never once even questioned this behavior in myself. Oh my God. I never looked at it, from the outside, and saw it as different or strange or ... anything. I learned it as though it came from my own mind, as though it was MY TRUE personality ... that no matter WHAT hell is going on inside my home or inside of ME, no matter what nightmare I have just witnessed or walked right through ... no matter! I can stand up, brush my shoulders off, and smile at you, a big white winning smile, dimple included, to distract you or charm you or make YOU feel BETTER. I'm wonderful at this. I excel at this. I OWN this trait.

And this has KILLED me when it comes to putting on the sick, hurting, wounded face for the doctors ... and I'm saying, when it comes to putting on my SINCERE, REAL face, the TRUE feelings that I'm having, which are SICK, DESPERATE for help with this ADD, with this PAIN which is constant, all of it, which has gone on SO LONG... I need help, I am sick, and I do not know proper ways to express it. I know the WORDS, yes. I can say the words to the doctors, but I have almost always been met with some skepticism that things are not as extreme as I'm saying. Frequently, I've been met with much worse, with outright disbelief, with the opinion that I'm just plain FAKING, that I must be there for the pain drugs, for the stimulant drugs, to party it up or else go and sell my prescription meds, to get an I.V. shot of some "good stuff," these are things that have been strongly suggested and even outrightly stated to my face by the medical profession.

I'm here to say to my doctor tomorrow that nothing could be farther from the truth. I am so distraught, so at the end of my rope, so TIRED and SICK of fighting the pain, fighting the pain triggers, fighting the disorganization and utter unruliness of my own mind ... all I want is to learn how to treat it and for us to do that. That's all I want. I don't want to party, I don't want to abuse drugs, and yes, I am aware that many people get "accidentally" hooked on drugs, and so I if we use that type of medicine, I will take all precautions and use as directed. If we can whip these disorders, these symptoms, in another way, that's wonderful too. I have come to believe, personally, that a combination of healthy eating, moderate exercise (oh, because strenuous causes "exertion" headaches, which are among my absolute worst), prescription medicines, and therapy are the key. I just want him to understand me, believe me, and help me. For some reason, every time I go to the doctor, I feel like a person going before the Court to plead her case. It shouldn't be that way, it just shouldn't.

If anyone has advice on success approaching doctors, success asking for and getting good treatment, success communicating with medical people ... well, like I said, I'm open to advice! I'm going to write my questions and comments down on a note card, and then just give it to God, having faith that He will guide my physician and myself to wise and healthy treatment for my life. So even if you don't have advice or experience with this stuff, prayers and good vibes are appreciated too!

I'll be posting to let you all know how it went!

Issues of Faith and Spirituality

2010-06-05T16:40:00.000-05:00

I hadn't realized what a long time it's been since I blogged! Ugh, it's just been a crazy month! I haven't been feeling well, which surprised me; I thought that after my last doc visit I had some good treatments in place and that my meds were going to be helpful. No matter what I do, I seem to get a lot of migraines and not have any energy! I don't even know whether it's mental / emotional or just physical strain. Maybe the medicines are actually working against me! I don't know anymore, there are so many things they are having me do and take and ... ugh! It's a difficult cycle, getting a migraine, feeling bad and sometimes having to take medicine to get rid of it ... the medicine makes me tired, the whole ordeal frustrates me, and then I try to recover, but I get another headache! I really try not to complain a lot about my condition, because I have seen how it has given me valuable lessons and strength that maybe I would not have gained without it. But sometimes I just say to God (as I am a spiritual person who believes in prayer): "Do ya think I've carried this particular 'cross' long enough yet?" I know that many people suffer with worse disabilities and illness and all sorts of circumstances. But sometimes, when I get really down with what's happening, it's hard to see how that changes what I'm going through! I say to God, again: Wouldn't I be more of service to others or able to do more valuable work in this life if I were well? God seems to be telling me no, not yet.

I guess spirituality and faith is as good a place to (re)start blogging than anywhere! I have long struggled to find a "church home" where people at least accept my view of deity, if they don't completely agree with it. I have spent a lot of time attending a Unitarian church in my neighborhood. The people are wonderful there, but somehow ... I don't feel "home" there. I am planning to go to services at an Episcopal Church this weekend if I remain feeling well, physically. I have never attended one before, but I like that the church in my area is very involved in social outreach and serving the least among them... I also like the inclusiveness they seem to have, allowing women and homosexuals to minister and hold the same positions that straight white men may hold. I think my faith is Christian, but when I talk with others who identify themselves as such, I find that many people who claim the faith are not open-minded or merciful in their approach to justice and politics. I don't know. Basically, I'm not sure whether I "fit in" anywhere, but I know I would like to have a House of God to go to and share community and be part of an honest faith.

I personally don't think that people remember, or like to remember, that Jesus was a radical, a rabble-rouser, and a rebel in His time and in His society. Whether you believe the Christian philosophy that He was an incarnation of God or whether you feel He was another prophet, that is irrelevant to this particular detail about Him. The man did not hesitate to take on authority, the "conservatives" of His day. He didn't shy away from showing dismay and anger and a sense of injustice. He stood up and fought, not with fists (although by all accounts there were a few incidents, like in the Temple with the money changers), but with His example, His life, His words. And He stood up beside the sick and dirty and poor and criminal, the lowest of the low, so to speak. And He fought for them, believing that every human life is redeemable and worthy of dignity.

In many parts of the USA, that is the last kind of behavior people who claim Him as their god seem to be interested in. But He was not indirect in His commandment that we are meant to serve the lowly, those we might feel are "sinners," the least among us. I'm not saying that I'm some saint and everyone around me is a philistine. Rather, I just don't feel like people remember who He was, what radical ideas He courageously presented, things like that. I would like to be part of a community that DOES honor those qualities. None of us gets it right all the time or behaves in some dogmatically perfect way. But my belief is that we are called to TRY. I don't think a lot of people want to hear that. Especially not in MY neck of the woods (the midwest). But I have faith that there is a place for me, and for what I believe.

...That's what has been on my mind today! I'll be writing more now that I'm "back" from my hiatus.

Bloggers Who Might Inspire You (They Inspire ME!)

2010-04-27T19:57:00.001-05:00

As sort of an add-on to my last post, I wanted to provide these links to other female bloggers who made me laugh and think and strive to be the best writer that I can be this week (so far)!

Always genius, in my opinion, is TheBloggess. Most of the time when I read her posts, it's like she's speaking from within MY brain! If only I could perfectly weave all my thoughts and observations into an intricate blend of sarcasm, opinion, humor, and pictures of my cat haha! But seriously, this particular post that I linked has a hilarious picture of her with her cat.

And I really found value in this article which I read today on Broadsheet. The writer also writes her own blog, which always sparks debate and conversation within the comments section.

So, mad love for all my sisters who are out there doin their (blogging) thing!

Crazy Outlaw Feminism!

2010-04-27T15:04:00.003-05:00

Why, I ask??!! Wwwhhhyyyy? I just want to know why "everyone," i.e. the general public and often a woman's closest friends and loved ones, has to go there. Where? Oh, let me back up. I'm watching TV, just some documentary that isn't especially great, but it's on while I'm doing other things. And part of the larger story they are telling is the fact that at one point in her life, the woman on the show shaved her head. And the people who knew her at that time, a co-worker and a family member specifically, both said on film that they "knew" she had "gone crazy" once that happened. WHY? Why does that make her crazy????

I've written about this topic before. because I too have shaved my head. In fact, right now I have a pretty short head of hair; I'm sort of growing a mohawk, so the sides are shaved and the middle is just starting to grow a bit longer. I dig it, and that's all that matters to me, and I'm not crazy (or any more clinically-descriptive term).

I really feel strongly that this is some part of the fight of some people to put and keep women in their "proper" place in society. When I reached out to speak with other bloggers and other women around the world who had shaved their heads for all sorts of reasons, it only strengthened my opinion. All had faced some sort of judgment and opposition from someone at some time, regarding their choice to go without hair. Most had faced it a lot. We discussed the fact that somehow it makes it "okay" if you explain that you did this because you have Cancer or Alopecia or some such disease.

I won't re-tell my story, as it is told in full at the above link. But the reason that I shaved my head that first time was simply that I wanted to confront my dependency on such a shallow physical trait to give me identity and even worth. Also, honestly, I was sick and tired of my long, thick hair, with which I had dramatic fights every time I tried to "do" it in some style other than my pony-tail. As I told in my earlier post, I realized that I wanted to shave it, get rid of it and perhaps start fresh, or not have hair anymore for a long while. And when I decided that, I realized that my only fear was the old what-will-others-think issue.

For me, this was unacceptable. I didn't like to look inside of myself and see that I was afraid of what others would think, afraid - YES - of what men would think. Now, I'm not making a judgment on what other women should choose or how they should choose to confront the changes or fear of changes that they face in their own lives. I'm simply sharing what I was feeling and why I chose to shave my hair off.

Me after a recent shave :)
It worked. It was admittedly scary at first, but I was younger and shyer and less confident then (this was about 10 years ago now, wow). And going through the inevitable (as I have found it to be) opposition -- constant questions about why, and the fact that (GASP) some men didn't find this non-traditional look attractive -- I truly did grow and learn, which was the point, for me. No longer do I want or need hair to make me feel that I am beautiful or important or whatever I was getting out of having that big ol' head of hair. In fact, I've found that it's pretty difficult to go back and grow it all out again, now that I'm cool with short styles. I've grown it out long once since I first shaved it, but like I said, it is short again.

But this matter is not really about hair. If, as is the case with one of my close friends, you love your hair and even think it's your best quality, then by all means, work it, girl! My whole point is that we need to be courageous enough to do what we want and need to do, what we feel is right for us. And this extends way beyond matters of appearance of course.

So what is the deal? Has anyone else out there been judged harshly, discriminated against or otherwise treated differently because they chose to do something that is not in the scope of traditional female roles? I have heard from female police officers, women with tattoos, athletes, and many more. I'm interested in finding out why people want to say that we are "crazy" when we go against the grain, against our expected roles in society or in the family. I'm interested in challenging that mentality wherever I find it.

A Million Words

2010-04-26T23:24:00.001-05:00

...Okay, the pictures might not be worth THAT much, but here are some more anyway!

I stood on the rocky beach to take this picture ... looking out onto the ocean from the coast in Maui. There's a tender carrying passengers back toward our ship. Those boats must have made two trillion trips that day, tee hee!

I snapped a photo of this Coast Guard vessel before it left us to go on our way. I never had this happen on any other cruise...But on this one a Port Police boat and this Coast Guard boat took turns escorting our ship out of the port in L.A. and far into the sea. Someone came aboard our ship from the Coast Guard before they turned back. At least we were safe!

Our last port was Ensenada, Mexico (I learned why we had to have a foreign port on our itinerary by law ... I'll explain in another post). I guess I really liked capturing the view of each pier. I'm so unaccustomed to ocean travel!

Ahh, Kauai again! The same property (but different water) where we went tubing; this is a swimming "hole," as our tour guides called it. Those tiny waterfalls were really warm! I'm a city girl and thus endlessly fascinated by things such as swimming in non-chlorinated water.

Not sure if you can really tell, but I had to try to get a picture (zoomed as far as possible) of these endangered seals. They were sunning themselves in a protected area in Mexico.

This was sad but beautiful; the coast as we left port in Kauai. I adore that island ... one of those places you find (if you're lucky) in life where you go and just feel at home, no matter whether you know anyone or have ever been there before.

That's our unofficial traveling companion, the Mariner of the Seas, a huge ship in Norwegian Cruise Line's fleet. I was told that the Mariner is strictly Hawaiian-going, and that their cruises are entirely geared toward the Hawaiian experience, activities, etc. Don't know for sure, but sounds like fun! However, I had a dream vacation on our ship as it is!

A Thousand Words

2010-04-25T22:12:00.003-05:00

...No, for once, it actually isn't that many words from me! Pictures instead :)

This first one is when I was in my beloved Kauai, tubing the sugar cane irrigation ditch! I didn't write much about that yet, did I? Well, it was my favorite day and my favorite adventure by far! I'm the one with bad posture (I was squished into my tube!) at the right, lingering last in line because I didn't want to get out!

Docked in Honolulu! The Hawaiian sky, both in photos and in real life, looks almost fake, it's so unbelievably blue and vibrant!

There were a thousand beautiful photos to be taken in Hilo's amazing Botanical Gardens & Rain Forest! This waterfall was really gorgeous.

I learned SO much about the ship and how all this stuff operates at sea ... The sailing life, per se. This boat boarded our "local pilot," which was something I previously didn't know about. I loved watching the local sailor, who was taken aboard at each port to help navigate the local waters, come on and off the ship.

Looking out from the shore in Hilo (botanical gardens); these are the "Twin Rocks," which have a legend attached to them about two lovers who sacrificed themselves to protect their community from seafaring intruders. My mom adds that "they should put a pink bow on the one that's the girl." :)

Honolulu as the sun began to set.

And FINALLY ...

Here is the place of infamy, at least for my dad and me. It's the area where the man in front of us decided to climb over that fence and sign which told us NOT TO do just that. Then he proceeded to slip, fall, and half-roll down the hill (the picture does not show how much of an incline it really was) ... after grabbing a rock to save himself, his hands slipped off of that mossy rock, and he rolled even further down the hill before finally being helped to his feet and dragged out by his wife and my dad. "I'm okay," he said, waving my dad away, but then he ran straight to the resting bench across the path. There's a reason for fences and warning signs, people!

...Lots more where this came from, so I'll share more soon! And by the way, if anyone using Blogger knows how to make it so that there aren't such huge spaces in between (I only hit "enter" one time between each, like you would do for a normal line!), please share with me!

Random Travel Memories

2010-04-22T21:06:00.001-05:00

Travel Stories, Part THREE:

Super sweet! As I've said, I've been gathering my photos and getting tidbits together for making a scrapbook of my trip (yikes, I'm starting to think this will be the mother of all scrapbooks with all the stuff I have). Well, after I saw the pictures my dad had printed, I realized that he had everything I didn't! He had a lot more photos of him and me doing things (because when we asked someone to take our picture, I felt bad giving them MY camera too; knowing I could just make a copy of his), he had pictures of friends we made aboard the ship and staff that were especially nice to us, more people pictures in general. He also got to see Pearl Harbor while I stayed aboard sick with a killer migraine in Honolulu. I had walked the deck later that day, taking pictures of the skyline there and of the coast, imagining my scrapbook page reading something like: "All I Saw of Honolulu." But now I don't have to do it like that!

So I borrowed Dad's SD card and made a ton of pictures from his camera. Now I have it all! I'm going to post a few at the end of this blog, and more will continue to be posted! (That was an odd, passive voice sentence, huh?) The only reason I haven't done so yet is that I don't have a lot on this computer. Still using my old laptop, while the new laptop with all my stuff is being shipped back to me. THAT is another story altogether, but for now I will say on record that Best Buy and Sony are going to be wishing that they had just fixed it, just went ahead and fixed it, because the trouble I'm going to give them over this matter will be SO not worth it (another time...).

So speaking of the photos and Pearl Harbor, which I very much would have liked to see ... yesterday my dad surprised me with something that really touched my heart. It was just a little gift, but so sweet. "Because you didn't get to go," he explained, and presented me with a framed postcard picture. The postcard was one of those that are separated into four frames, with four different little pictures. One is an aerial shot of the memorial; one is a black-and-white of the USS Arizona under attack; one is a shot of tourists standing at the wall they have there with names of all the victims of the attack; and the last is a picture of "Mighty Mo," the USS Missouri, which is where the Japanese surrendered.

But the thing is, he had bought this wooden frame for the postcard, and he goes, "I painted it blue, because I figured that was best, to signify the ocean." It's awesome! I don't know exactly why, but it's a special gift. I love how he painted it for me! Maybe you have to know us or know my dad or something, I'm not sure. But I love it.

Another sort of ... touching?... time on our trip was when we went to dinner with 4 other people. We had the "anytime" dining option. If you've ever cruised, you probably know how you either choose a dining time or you choose the option to go to the dining room whenever you want during the hours they serve meals. Well, if you choose a reserved time, you generally are seated at a table with other folks, and there you remain for the duration of your trip. So it's cool, or it can be cool, to get to know your table-mates and share your experiences throughout the trip. On the other hand, what if y'all hate each other and think each other hideous? Well, you are stuck, and this trip was 2 weeks! I've never had that horrible an experience, but it could happen. Anyway, Dad chose for us, and so we went to the dining room whenever we were ready each night, and thus, we sat down for dinner with all different people each time.

Now, by the end of the trip, I have to admit, we were both a little weary of the drill. I mean, on the one hand, it's interesting to meet new people, really fun, to share stories and learn about each other. But it's also tedious to keep answering where you're from and what your name is and dealing with the difficulty in hearing each other over the din of the room. And, I don't know how to put this nicely, but ... A lot of this was exacerbated by the fact that there were a TON of really elderly people aboard. I'm serious, and that's fine, I'm not prejudiced or something against my elders, please understand. But it was difficult, because if it's hard for me to hear across the table, it seemed about 10 times as hard for them. I'm not making fun, it really was difficult. And many people were also from other countries, with language barriers, etc.

On the last night that we went to the dining room, we both got pissed because we were seated with, well, a bunch of assholes. But I'll tell you that sordid tale soon enough. Back to the memorable dinner.

It was Dad, me, a lady dad's age-ish and her elderly aunt, and an Indian-American couple a little bit younger than Dad. I was kind of wary, because it was one of the days that I hadn't felt well (headache and stuff), and I wasn't sure how this group would get along, but that's the fun of it too. We started out with small talk, but we ended up staying until the place closed! They were awesome. I regret that I do not remember names; we didn't stay in touch even on the ship, but that was sort of the way of things. Passing moments, passing friendships.

First I had myself a ball laughing at the scenario that unfolded between Dad and Blondie (let's call her), the lady about his age seated next to him. It became obvious that she was interested, you know, interested. She perked up when they discovered they both had retired from police-related occupations. Her aunt was extremely clever and personable, although she was very hard of hearing. I tried hard still to talk to her, because that sucks not to be part of the conversation just because what? people are too lazy to make the effort? So she was really cool. But the funny thing was that somewhere between the salads and the main course, Blondie announced that she felt very strongly that "there should be a lot more [Sheriffs] like" the infamous Sheriff Arpayo of Maricopa County in Arizona (?). He's always in the news and sometimes interviewed, and he's known for doing "innovative" things like having NO amenities in his jails like TV or whatever. He makes prisoners go out on the road and clean up while wearing hot pink prison suits, stuff like that, to be humiliating.

I died laughing inside. This lady had no idea how she just signed her death wish as far as any romantic notions with my dad! It was like if she WANTED him not to approach her EVER, and asked how she could be certain he wouldn't, well, that is what I would tell her to say. Oh my gosh, it was awesome. My dad looked like he'd choke, and indeed, he later told me he was biting his tongue. Basically, he hates that Arpayo guy. He doesn't believe in stripping county jail inmates (many of whom are not convicted prisoners, you understand) of basic ... stuff.. to bide their time, to occupy their minds, etc. He doesn't think it's right to humiliate people for any reason. And, as he blasted once we got away from Blondie: "Over half of those in Arpayo's jail are awaiting trial!" I have to agree with him on these principles for the most part.

So that was funny, but then we got this Indian couple talking. The wife was a cancer researcher, the husband a professor of physics. I thought at first that I shouldn't speak, lest I reveal myself a dumbass, or at least a Liberal Arts major. And, while I am proud of my education and my craft / sometimes profession, I have found that there are many in the science field who look down on those of us in the artistic fields. But I shouldn't have judged. Judging is never good.

The wife was the more social one, and she spoke enthusiastically about their daughter who is an oby/gyn in New York ... she asked us about ourselves and told interesting stories. The husband was quiet and interjected awkward comments, but it was endearing in a way. You know, like, you could tell he just wasn't especially socially comfortable, but he was real. And finally, we got into some topics that interested him, and he just lit up! We got to talking about storms and earthquakes (this was about a week after the quake in Chile). My dad was telling about a terrible storm system he once traveled through on another cruise.

The professor was awesome; I could see him teaching a class or whatever! He was telling us some stuff that I don't think anyone at the table knew previously about how the stabilizers on the ship operate, how storms and earthquakes affect one another and when they don't. Then he told us about a PBS (maybe? I have to check) series about the evolution of the human race. He told how he worked really hard to get the documentary's lead researcher to come and speak at the college where he teaches (and he got him!). He was absolutely electrified as he talked about this series (available at Netflix apparently... I'll find out its title if anyone is interested) and meeting the speaker and all this stuff. It's great to meet someone and talk to him or her about what they love, you know?

We all ended up talking and sharing knowledge and stories and asking questions. Dinner was well over, coffee had cooled, by the time we got up and left. It was my favorite dinner by far. Just meeting people is my favorite thing about traveling. I mean, there can be ugliness in that, people can be very unkind to one another. My dad actually complained that he saw a lot of that, but I didn't. My tours and my experiences were mainly beautiful. People were kind and they looked out for each other when we went on shore and they were genuinely interested in both learning about me and telling their stories to me when we met.

This is one reason I have always loved to write and do interviews and reporting. I just love to meet someone and learn about their life, their work, whatever their passions are. One time I wrote about a historically intact farm, which I knew nothing about. And I recall that the manager of the farm was so, so consumed with his work and believed so much in protecting the species of animal and plant life there (all in their original forms from the 1800's) ... I just loved it. I knew nothing about it, and personally wouldn't be able to get extremely passionate about the work probably, but to meet someone who IS ... and write his story down ... beautiful. Traveling allowed me to do that, just for fun, with a gorgeous environment on top of it! GLORY!

(this is too long, as usual, so I'll put just the pictures in my next one)

Pharmacy Savings, Book Review, and Other Randoms

2010-04-22T18:25:00.000-05:00

I digress today from my travel memoirs, but I have more of those!

Some strange thing is going on with me where I can't sleep at night. I stay up most of, or sometimes even ALL of, the night, and then once the sun comes up ...and I mean, sometimes it's like the recorded minute of sunrise for the day (as I'll later find out) ...I fall into the sleep of the dead. I mean, the phone rings, people in my building slam doors and yell and do their usual shit ... but I do not wake, or I wake a little bit, enough to be aware of it. It's more that I know these things go on all day when I am awake, so I assume they are taking place when I'm in this deep sleep. Thankfully, the alarm clock does still rouse me, probably because nowadays I use it so infrequently.

Speaking of whatever goes on here while I sleep, just yesterday I left my building and saw that Sheriff's Office had placed a sort of "sorry we missed you" note on the main door. It referenced a court case number and the officer's badge number; then at the bottom was handwritten "c/o [someone's name]". Now, I know that this was not regarding me, but I was still curious. The name at the bottom, the "c/o" which in usual terms means "in care of" ... does that mean the person to be contacted at the Sheriff's Office? Because, um, I can assure them that no one in this building will be taking it upon themselves to call up the police and go "um, were you looking for me? Hi! I'm home now." And if that name referenced the person they were looking for, um, is that really okay? Like, isn't that invading my privacy to post a big notice with my case number (so anyone interested could look it up and see what I have been arrested for or whatever) and my name? Shady, you Sheriffs Officers, shady.

Okay, so what else? Today I learned that Walmart is NOT playin' when they talk about their discounts on generic drugs. I don't mind sharing with you that one of my billions of prescriptions (it sure seems like I'm at some pharmacy every single day practically) is Ultram, the generic of which is called Tramadol. It's for pain, you know, like killer migraine pain. Anyway, I've been getting it at my local Walgreens, because they have a savings club and all my meds are there and blah blah. But I went to Walmart today basically on a whim, because I had pictures to pick up and it was on my way to the dentist. I thought, hey, they have a pharmacy, why not? So the lady who took my info said it's a 30 min wait, blah blah, and I went to the dentist and came back...

Okay, when I get it at Walgreens ... and I'm not singling them out, because they have pretty comparable prices in my area to other pharmacies, and they're cheaper with the savings club ... but when I get it there, it is well over $50 for say 90 pills or a 30-day supply or something. That's the generic, and that's a pretty typical script. At Walmart today, to pick up those 90 pills ... drum roll ... SIX DOLLARS!! SIX! 6 U.S. dollars. Shit man! It makes me want to go return all those other months-worth of pills and get refunds. You know? The same medicine, the same amounts, the same manufacturer and everything, and they charge you $44 more? Outrageous. Wow. Well, I know where I'll be getting my generic medicine from now on.

Now, if you have medical issues like I do (and God bless ya if you do... sheesh), I have to add that the pharmacist at Walmart told me they have considerable trouble even getting certain other drugs, brand-name ones. Like, say Adderall and the newer Vyvanse are some examples I know of. She says they don't keep them in stock and when she orders them, they "may or may not come." And if they did, it would take over a week. That's super odd, if you ask me. At the ol' W-Greens, they just order stuff they are out of (which is rare), and it comes the next day. So I would say Walmart specializes in drugs that are generic.

And what else did I have on my mind as I sat down to write today? Oh well, I've been reading an outstanding book that I would recommend to anyone who is even remotely interested in one or more of a variety of topics including: Law, Society, Current Events, Politics, Philosophy, Morals & Values, and more! It's called Justice: What's the Right Thing to Do? by Michael J. Sandel. I actually received the book as a Christmas present from my dad, who told me that the parts he read were so fascinating that he couldn't bring himself to wrap it up for me until Christmas Eve. He said he kept reading it and worrying that if he didn't hurry up and wrap it and put it away, he'd end up with it all dog-eared or spilled-on.

The subject matter is heavy, but Sandel sort of spoon feeds it to us, as I can imagine him doing as a teacher. A really fun, inspiring professor. I've heard there are long waiting lists for his classes, and when I read this book, I can almost hear him talking (minus the timbre of his voice, which I've never heard). But seriously, you know how some people can write in that way where it really is just like listening to them talk to you? I would be surprised if I learned this book was not just like his lectures and lessons. And they are good ones! They're like your favorite teacher, who really gets you to love a subject that maybe you sort of liked going into it or maybe you couldn't have given two shits about when you were forced into the class. But he makes it exciting.

The thing is, while I'm reading this book, I am simultaneously watching the Tea Baggers (if that's the low-brow name they originally desired, then by all means, I'll be happy to oblige them) carry on with their blatantly ignorant signs and carrying monkeys with them to their protests and the whole bit ... and I'm watching President Obama, what he's doing, what he's saying, because that's what I do, I watch the man I helped elect and whom -- I proudly tell you-- I greatly admire, but do not blindly support, do not always think he's right and all that garbage that "they" accuse "us" of doing ... and I'm thinking to myself as I read this beautiful book ...

Everybody should read this. No, REALLY. Because at the heart of this book is the history and evolution of OUR current society and its laws and it's morals and values, conflicting and complicated as they are. There are things that I feel ashamed for not knowing as I expound on my own political beliefs. Sandel really tells you where to find the root of our ideas of what is "right" and why we think that. I love the challenge that the book is giving me as I read: I have to ask myself Why do I believe that x, y, and z is the "right" way to run a government, a country, a church, my SELF? Yes, we say, it's RIGHT that every citizen of an industrialized country have access to basic shelter, food, and health services (maybe you say something else, but this is my example, so just roll with it, kay? Sandel offers all sides of that theory)... But then we have to ask ourselves...What makes it "right"? And if that is the end we seek, how do we achieve it without crossing our own morals and doing something that is "wrong" in our view? Or do we not care about the means if the end is met? And so forth. It is fascinating to me.

So when I see people spouting off on TV or on their little crayon-drawn signs (as they do around here), I wonder whether they have asked themselves these questions. It's not enough to just say what your neighbors or church or parents have told you. This is the fabric of our changing world, our changing nation within it. And so if people are going to get passionate and go protest and rally and speak out against the war or the government or the President, then for God's sake, I pray you, I beseech you, read this book or at least ask yourself this type of question and know your answers. I don't feel like we have any business blowing smoke out in the public square until we understand where we stand.

So, okay. Off my soap box. I'm not usually one to preach or tell others what to do, but I just really was moved by what I learned in the book; and I'm not finished with it yet. Probably some people have already asked themselves these moral questions, through their education or their church or wherever. But I'm pretty educated and come from brilliant parents with a wide range of experiences, and I know that I have not really dug down to see what my beliefs are all about. Okay, so that's that. I said I'd stop!

And my sweet Dorian is patiently (sort of) nudging me to go out on the porch and play now, so I must attend to that. I hate when I sleep half the day as I've been doing, ESPECIALLY because someone else (even if that someone is not human) depends on me to get my ass up and feed him and play with him and generally tend to his well-being on a schedule. This guy who, as I've written many times, has been patient and uncannily sensitive while I've suffered through illness and pain and whatever ... I just think he deserves the most respect and fun and exercise and good life that I can give him when I AM well. So I'm trying. Even with the "new" routine (which I do NOT wish to make a trend) of waking up at noon (if we're lucky) and thus, not filling the food dish til then, etc., he complained for about a day, then he just settled in; now I find my guy sleeping in his favorite box, also til noon. He's just a cat, but he's enough to make me want to do better. Yes, for myself, of course, I'm not an idiot. But for him too. I'm all he has. Food, play, sleep, treats, toys, and me, his human. And that's good, I realize his cat-ness means he doesn't need what humans need, but still. I guess what I'm trying to say is that he has given me so much, whether he knows it or not or whether it's a sacrifice or anything, for him. That's the least I can do in return.

Exercise (The Running of the Maniacs)

2010-04-15T15:48:00.002-05:00

Part Two, Travel Stories ...

I picked up my photographs from our trip today, and they are breath-taking. Not in the Seinfeld way, ha ha, but truly breath-taking. My digital camera, while amazing and capable of many fascinating technological feats, did not do justice to the colors and images that I captured. Seeing the prints today really took me back. I couldn't help but remember, however, that there was one photo I didn't get, one that you really needed to see to believe, to understand. It would have been named The Running of the Maniacs.

Every cruise ship I've been on, and virtually every cruise ship operating in the USA today, has some version of a Sports Deck and / or a track or Promenade for walking. The Golden Princess had all of these, plus a basketball half-court and a golf course and a lot of other stuff. I did a lot of walking as I planned, and I even brought along my new Sketchers, the ones that have a special sole to give your legs and booty and posture an extra workout. The thing is, I learned very quickly that there was a good time to walk and a not-so-good time. The latter was morning, like between 8 and 9:30 a.m. Because that was when the Maniacs were out in full force.

The Promenade was not actually the best cruise ship walking / running deck I've seen in my life. It didn't even go all the way around; rather, one had to go upstairs and complete part of each lap on the next deck up, then come down again. This wasn't a problem for me personally, as it gave the opportunity to do a little stepping up work on top of the walking. But the deck was also narrow, especially as it rounded the corners. The ship was equipped with those rear-view type of mirrors, so that you could always see who might be coming around the corners as you were; it was that narrow.

This was all problematic when it came to the Maniacs. You see, the people who came out to walk and run in the morning were what you might call, um, Hard Core. I mean, at least, you could see that they thought they were. A reflection of the ship's passengers in general, most of the Maniacs were senior citizens. They wore their sportiest wind-breakers, capri pants and Reeboks or Nikes. Many carried hand weights (did they PACK those?) and wore IPods trendily plugged-into their ears. But the look in their eyes was best. It was a single, signature empty gaze of the hamster in its wheel: of those who walk, as on a treadmill, but go nowhere; of those who climb the "stairs" but do not ascend; of those who lift the weight, but move nothing, produce nothing. It's a non-productive frenzy. I mean, sure, it's productive for the body to exercise, but I think when a person becomes to hysterical about their need to lose weight or maintain thin-ness, and especially when they have spent far too many hours trying to achieve this goal in a gym setting, the distant maniacal look in the eyes is always present.

So there was that, the look in the eyes. But the way they behaved! My word, I felt myself almost saying, like some prude, someone quite uninitiated to the ways of this club. There was absolutely no etiquette. It was every man or woman for his- or herself. Before I knew better, I walked with them a few times; rather, I should say I walked at the same time they did. I noticed with increasing alarm that these people would flat-tire me (in case you're not familiar, the "flat tire" is when someone steps on the heel of your shoe because they are purposely or non-purposely following you too closely) without glancing back at all, no problem. They would come right up behind you like a mugger in the darkness of those narrow corners and shove past without the courtesy of a word or warning. In a word, these old people were RUTHLESS. Ruthless maniacs.

The last time I walked with them, I ducked inside before finishing my laps. On this particular day, there was work being done on the Promenade deck, and so the route was even more circuitous than usual. In order to get around and create a full lap, the only thing to do was to cut through the ship in front of the casino, by the elevators. As I stood waiting for my elevator, AFTER, I watched them, all maniacs, all emptiness in their gazes, just stampeding through. Their arms were flailing, swinging to keep that heart rate up, as they absolutely plunged through the double doors, galloped past the casino entrance, and body-checked anyone who got in their way by making the mistake of waiting on an elevator.

Before I witnessed the ugly scene in front of the elevator, of stern-faced, hysterical seniors rushing the casual crowd milling about unawares by the lifts ... BEFORE I saw that frightful scene, I was walking behind an especially old lady. I mean, she was very elderly, even compared to this bunch. She was tiny, and as I walked behind her, I could look right down upon the top of her sparse, white-haired head of curls. I was forced to slow my pace, because as I've mentioned, the walk-way was too narrow to pass in most places; and the maniacs going in the opposite direction were coming AT us full tilt. Sure, I would have liked to keep a steady walking pace, but I knew I could pick it up again soon. And after all, I was on vacation. Was there really any reason to get very upset about ... well, anything? Here we all were on a freaking CRUISE SHIP! Doing our morning exercise under the sun, breathing the sea air, with a day of activities and delicious food and laughter and music before us. Who could complain? Why the long faces, my fellow passengers?

But there was no silently, telepathically communicating this with them. There was no kumb-iy-ah spirit during The Running... So I walked on, following behind the elderly woman, as she held on, seemingly for dear life to the ship's railing as we went. We were nearing the next set of double doors, where the deck would once again widen when I heard panting. I thought maybe Mogan, the Assistant Dog to a blind man aboard our ship, was out for a walk ... If Mogan could walk on his hind legs and pant directly into my left ear.

It was one of the Maniacs naturally. She just couldn't take it, she just couldn't. The elderly, white-haired woman, holding on for dear life ... Then me, a healthy 34-year-old woman walking at an inexplicably, exaggerated-ly slow pace ... accepting the rebellion of the woman in front, just going along with her blatant disregard for this community's established norms ... Well, the woman BEHIND me couldn't deal. The panting increased, a swinging fist (accidentally?) whaled on my kidneys, and of course she managed to flat-tire BOTH of my new Sketchers as she maneuvered around both me and the elderly woman, to freedom!

I almost beat her ass. I mean, really, can you imagine? I could easily have maneuvered in the same way, caught up to the old bat, and just clocked her, even sucker-punched her. She probably wouldn't even realize; that's how dedicated and focused she was on her power-walk. I bolted for those double doors where Maniacs were streaming steadily through, toward the casino, breaking on through to the other side. Only here I stopped and punched the button for Floor 14. This was clearly not my scene.

I ask you, is this what goes on in the retirement communities of Florida and Arizona and Cali? Are the sidewalks filled with barging, forceful tyrants of the sidewalk, just walking and flailing for all they are worth? These are ridiculous people. I wonder what they are listening to on their IPods...

Flying There (And Home Again)

2010-04-11T16:29:00.001-05:00

This is Part One of my stories from traveling. There are, I have found while journaling and blogging, too many experiences and categories to talk about in one or two posts. Don't worry, I'm not going to bore you with every detail of my journey. Rather, I'm just sharing the most beautiful, humorous, and memorable of what I experienced.

Growing up, I was blessed with many flights, many trips to exciting and fun places (road trips as well sometimes) such as Hilton Head Island in South Carolina, to Long Boat Key in Florida, to Paris, to Mexico, on cruises ... to Wisconsin too, and Michigan. I miss traveling. Many of my flights and journeys were given to me by a very generous family, that of my best friend growing up. Her dad had custody of her only on Sundays and some of our school breaks, so when he took her on vacation, he let her bring a friend (ME!) so she would have the most possible fun.

When I showed interest, which was very early on, like 9 years old or something, my parents began to take us to air shows in the summertime. There is a large, televised, famous one held on Lake Michigan in Chicago every year. But there are also local ones that were really fun and had great planes and shows. I remember watching, just fascinated, just passionate in my heart, as the parade went overhead: Navy aircraft, helicopters, experimental / home-made things, and (my favorite) the aerobatic and wing-walking parts of the show! When I met the great aerobatic pilot Sean D. Tucker, at one show and he signed my program, well, I swooned. It was better than when Debbie Gibson gave me a high-five once at a concert!

So I have always loved to fly. I love aircraft. I thought I would become a pilot, and took flying lessons, even got to fly on my own (!) a little bit doing touch-n-go's ... but I didn't pursue it. There were a few reasons, not really complicated, no drama. But that's for another post. Although I was pretty terrified to travel and take this two-week trip, I was not afraid of the flights. I absolutely adore the flying.

It's been 7 years, and a world of personal hell, since I last flew. Needless to say I missed it. And I had not been in the airports since 2003, which was before a lot of the current "security measures" were in effect. It was, of course, the post-nine-eleven world, as they say. But still, it wasn't like this, now. The airlines have changed dramatically, everything about them. The airports have changed. How you do everything before and after boarding is different. I guess it would suffice to say that basically everything is just different. And this saddened me.

I wasn't impatient. I wasn't mad or irritated, didn't feel wronged in some way, by all the security stuff (often arbitrary and disorganized so far as I could tell) or the time it all took. I felt a bit stupid and older than my age and well, tourist-y, because I did not know how to check in with the self-service machines and things like that. But whatever. Dad and I figured it all out. And we got to fly First-Class, because of an awesome thing Dad worked out for us. I've never done that before! Nope, I can't claim to be rich or even rich enough to have flown First-Class ever before, not even on someone else's dime. And it was good. But it wasn't what made the flight. It's all about the flying for me. Always and forever.

The ride TO our destination was okay. The crew for the Black-Eyed Peas was in First Class with us, so that was interesting, a bit of a brush with fame or whatever. And yes, it was a wonderful thing to be served free meals and drinks, in a spacious seat, with a less-used bathroom nearby. It's the little things! That first trip was bumpy, and the view was often clouded by, well, clouds. But I was happy to be flying again, and excited to get to where we were going. Although scared about traveling, I had sort of just surrendered at that point. I was packed, I was on my way, and that was that.

It was the flight home that took my breath away. I wished I had a map of our route to look at as we flew, because everything I could see "down there" was so gorgeous. And there was never a cloud in my way if you can imagine! I sat by the window, forehead absolutely pressed to the thick pane. Maybe I looked ridiculous, maybe like a little child, staring out at the world that way, as though I'd never seen it from an aircraft. But that matters not a bit to me.

Between Los Angeles and here (Chicago), I felt like I saw everything God ever created, a sampling of every landscape. And they were all polished and shined for this display. As we skimmed over the western states, I saw reds and browns, layered on the mountains with their wide, flat tops. And down their sides, shimmering sparkles of golden minerals and rocks, like flecks of the brightest stars. I saw snow-capped mountains, clusters of towns, cities, rolling green hills, and the endless-ly amazing clusters of baseball diamonds and swimming pools, looking like tiny play worlds from up there in the sky. Like toys. And dolls. Like a little train set of the entire country.

I guess all of this ceases to amaze many travelers after awhile, if it ever was amazing to them. For me, it is beautiful, a miracle of its own sort. On the ground, the airplanes are lumbering, heavy, metallic beasts of a vehicle. If you look at them, you can see every ding and dent, every nut and bolt, all that greasy, cracked stuff, like the garish paint. And they are FILTHY. I mean, really, I always want to get out the good old bucket and hose and just WASH them like a car...

But in the sky, they are different. They shine. They glide. They fit right in, you might say. Not too big, not ugly, just right. That is how they appear to me, whether I am inside of them or outside, whether I am the pilot or the passenger. And they carry me, in their great bellies, along with cargo and food and drinks and pets. And it's amazing.

Our pilot brought our aircraft gently around each leg of our landing pattern as we arrived over O'Hare International Airport. And as darkness fell, he guided that gigantic metallic hulk to the ground just so, so that each tire just barely kissed the runway. Now, this is a thing of beauty in itself, in my eyes: a perfect landing takes great skill and a bit of luck, experience too. And we rolled on our way back to the airport, back to the gate, back home. And it was good.

Gratitude

2010-04-08T20:34:00.001-05:00

Well, it isn't Monday, but I'm finally writing again...

Actually, on Monday I wanted to write, right on schedule (my own), but my A.D.D. was hitting me hard. I was unexpectedly put on a new medicine that morning by my doctor, who is new for me. I don't think I want to re-live that day or that appointment right now or in this post. But let's just say it was only our second meeting (you might recall that my beloved headache doctor from before suddenly left). On the first meeting, I got the impression that this new doc and I would get along just fine and understand each other and whatever, that he could help me, most importantly. But this time, I got the direct opposite impression. It was a horrible appointment, then a horrible day, and until today, the week was horrible.

But it's today, and when I woke to Today, I found it felt shiny and new, if not completely filled with hope and lightness. I also woke on my couch, having lain down there last night to watch TV, thinking angrily of how not-sleepy I was. That's the last I remember! Yesterday's awfulness consisted mainly of a horrible fight with someone close to me and drama and stress and the feeling, after it all, that I have no power and no say and no ability to create my own life anymore. Very low, a deeply low place to be. So I felt awake and angry, and I was crying, and that's when I guess I fell asleep with the light on and the TV on and my clothes still on.

The thing is, I woke up to find my kitty cat curled at my feet. I don't know when he came, but he was there, guarding me, as I call it. Let me tell you about Dorian: the guy does NOT sleep without a blanket and/or a pillow and/or a comfy cardboard box to call his bed. He doesn't usually enjoy sleeping on or beside humans either, finding us too warm and fidgety for his liking. I love the rare occasion that he lies on top of my comforter, on top of me, so much, that I try to lie completely still when he does it. But inevitably, I curl my toes or sneeze, and he's outta there!

So on the occasions when he comes to guard me, I know it's not an accident or a whim. You see, the fight and drama and crying of yesterday all took place at our home, in my apartment. I was very upset, it all led to a terrible migraine, there was someone that my cat trusts slamming a door at one point ... BAD. In whatever mysterious way that animals have of KNOWING, and even stranger to my mind, CARING to do something about what they KNOW ... my sweet little boy-cat knew I needed comfort.

So it came to pass that I cried myself to sleep and sometime in the night, Dorian decided to fore-go his creature comforts and sleeping preferences in order to come and stay with me. Isn't it funny how sometimes our pets know and are able to do what we truly need, the simplest but most necessary things? My heart just about burst when I opened my eyes and saw him there, blinking calmly at me. He didn't run away like, whew, she's up and my work is done. Rather, he crawled up closer, gave my eyebrows and bangs a good "bath," and sort of just snuggled next to me until I announced that it was time for Coffee-N-Kibbles, which is pretty much always the first order of the day.

I have much to learn in life, about life, and most of the time the learning excites me. But one thing I have begun to learn is that I value and find the most joy in what our world calls the "simple" and even "mundane" things in daily life. One of the great joys in my life currently is this amazing cat. I don't know how or why, but he sure seems to have an "old soul." He knows things, he teaches me things, and he's sensitive and loyal, traits that are not especially cat-like. I wrote a little essay today in my journal about sharing life with a pet, and about this particular pet. I am going to think about where to send or publish it.

I tell people these stories sometimes and I know (sometimes they even say it) that they are thinking that either I'm exaggerating and giving personal traits to Dori ... and / or that I am becoming a "crazy cat lady" soon to be an old maid (such a modern and flattering term), shunning human beings and hygiene and, well, real life, for my 92 cats. But I am not ashamed of adoring my cat as much as a human family member; I certainly recognize that he is not, in fact, my baby or whatever. I want him to be, and I appreciate that he is, a cat, a pet. But I love him as such. And we have a bond, a relationship.

So today, after such an awful week of fighting and crying and illness and drama, I woke up to beauty and grace and a reminder of the amazing gifts in my life, one of whom is Mr. Dorian. I remembered to turn my face and my heart toward the light, toward gratitude and peace. I am thankful that my ADD has settled again (not sure whether I like this new medicine, but I'm sure that will be another post), because when it's settled I can write and read, two of the most beautiful, favored gifts in my life! I am thankful for my guitar and the fingers to play it, the mind to learn it, the music, as corny as it might sound, I am thankful for the music. Speaking of which ...

Dorian seems to be the only creature on Earth that adores --make that, doesn't hate-- hearing me sing. For whatever reason, he loves my singing and will crawl onto my lap when I sing, purring so loud it sounds like he's growling and gargling! So this morning, to greet the day, and to greet my guy, and to thank him in some small way, I pet him and sang him some Jim Croce songs and a couple James Taylor favorites. Isn't that funny? He digs it. He doesn't like it if I start rapping or, like, adding dance steps. He just wants me to sing, all mellow. What a pair, we two.

MORE TO COME!!!

2010-04-01T01:46:00.000-05:00

THANKS to everyone for their warm welcomes back ('specially you, barb, who really MISSED me :)

I have some things to take care of the next coupla days that I fear will take me away from the blog(s) -- Dorian's too (he was thankful for the warm comments too!) But I plan to be back to my normal and more frequent writing next week (at the latest), like Monday! So please don't delete us from your blog rolls, 'kay? Promise to share my funny and hopefully-somewhat-interesting stories of travel and the usual stuff!

xoxox

HOME Sweet HOME

2010-03-30T19:08:00.000-05:00

Well, I am finally home! Went cruising the Pacific, into four ports in Hawaii (swoon for the beauty!), into Mexico, and home again!!! Had so very much fun and LEARNED so much!!!!! There's no way for me to put everything, everything! that I saw and did and experienced into words here. I am overwhelmed. I met so many people from everywhere in the entire world! I cruised on Princess Cruise Lines' Golden Princess, so if you have ever done that one, say hello!

I have to tell you that, between my dad and me (more him than me), we have traveled to many places around the world. And we both feel that Hawaii is THE most alluring and beautiful travel destination (or LIVING destination if you can swing that or if you are already so blessed!) in the entire world. I have yet to see some of the other Pacific islands or Australia, but Dad has seen those too. He still feels that Hawaii has it ALL. We both allow that it might be because we are US citizens and, therefore, Hawaii of course offers all the comforts of home (how can it be, everyone surmises over and again, that we are at "home" in the 50 states, while being awash in this amazing environment?!). I don't know though. There is nothing like it on the earth that I have ever experienced, from the people to the rain forests to the black sand beaches (they have white and brown sand too) to the volcanoes to the sense of history to the unique culture to the food to ... on and on!

Hawaii is so beautiful, so stunning, not just physically, but within and throughout, that it breaks my heart. I don't know why I use that phrase, don't know why it feels that way, but it just fits, that just describes it for me. All at once, one wants to reach out and grab it, hold onto it, wrap oneself in itc drink it and breathe it, let it rain down upon the head and just bask in its glory ... And at the same time, you want to hold back, keep your hands to yourself completely, leave it utterly alone in its eden-like peace and quiet, not to leave even a footprint ... It is too gentle and stoic and un-touched. It's like that. Although I am a writer, I cannot quite find the words.

This might seem to be a non-sequitir, but it's not, at least not for me... On the ship, there was a crew talent show of sorts. The very first act took my breath away, musically. It was a song that I had never heard before (yeah, you might laugh at me), but now I have it on repeat. A supervisor of the ship's cabin steward staff, a guy named Edwin, played guitar and sang his rendition of Elton John's "Skyline Pigeon." The lyrics are so poetic, the song so moving, so floating, that I will learn it on MY guitar in time!! Anyway, the words and the setting where I heard it for the first time -- well, now that song has come to signify my vacation and my own lust for travel and for maybe, just maybe living on the islands one day!

More stories to come...

More Psych Stuff, Addiction..

2010-03-04T21:06:00.000-06:00

So Part 2 of my psych post ... See, what I do when I say that I'm not doing anything is watch movies and TV shows on the wide variety of cable channels that I have never stopped loving..(I never had a TV with cable until I was 27 years old!!! never ever!). And I read and write. I spend entire days when I'm not feeling up to anything much just doing this. I have books and magazines and an e-reader, and I just read and read. Then I do some writing about my thoughts on what I've taken in, from the writing. Then I watch some of the crazy shows that are on TV about women in prison, about little kids in beauty pageants, and the Housewives shows, and all that. Tonight "Slingblade" is on IFC, and I've never seen it. So I've been watching it (really, really great) but also reading blogs and stuff.

I think I've gotten myself depressed by reading the material that I have been reading. I just finished Nic Sheff's book called "Tweak." It's his memoir about his journey through addiction to recovery and back and forth and back again. Yes, there are a great many of these memoirs that have been published in the past several years. And I've read quite a few. But I think that Nic's is ... if not the best, then it's the one that I relate to the most. He's so honest and raw and genuine about what he feels and experiences ... it's really moving for me to read his words. I don't feel alone that way. I mean, it's so good when an author can express those things in words...

Like, every human being has all kinds of insecurity and fear and wonder and hope and despair and shame and different levels of insanity within. I truly believe that. But -- in America anyway -- we really have this current culture of striving to be strong and smiling and just so damn capable all the time. But almost NO ONE feels this way all the time. Everyone wants to be, feels they have to be, are expected to be pretty perfect. If you're a mom, well, we know how that goes ... no matter whether you decide to stay home with your kids, to keep a profession while they go to school and babysitters, if you have to make a decision on what's best- whether to leave their dad or not to ... There will always be something or someone who tries to tell you you were wrong, you failed, and therefore you aren't perfect at all...

Our world has become staggeringly fast-paced, all about getting something fast and painlessly and easy. When we see commercials on TV, the trick is always to try and tell us that the product will help you lose weight FAST ... to whiten your teeth more CHEAPLY, and always, always ways to "feel better" about things. I'm vehemently against those who would blame the media or blame celebrities and all that for our problems in society... That's just too simple of an "out." Our society and its ills are a complex dance of supply and demand, church and state, virtue and vice, and what it all means to different people. There are virtually endless issues to be considered such as race, economics, our invisible class system, parts of the country and their cultures, education available to people.

I don't know what I'm trying to say. It's just that I read all these words and experiences from Nic's book, and they were heavy, and they just moved me so much. I just thought so much about my own experiences and how we come to do what we do, especially as all of it relates to our country's enormous problem with addictions.

I'll just add a little bit of my own background, because there is too much to tell. But I come from a long line of people with emotional problems, especially those diagnosed with depression. However, the raging dysfunction I have seen or been told about on both sides of the family would depress anyone, it seems to me. So, what is disease, and what is just brought on and taught? Well, whichever it is, there has been a lot of emotional and mental pain on both sides of my family. And a lot of substance abuse. Mainly, in the past, we have had alcoholics, just so many. I personally have never felt a draw to alcohol, which just makes me sad and headachey and, well, more depressed than ever. Our human brains must be all so different ... in that, certain people take that first drink and are in love with the stuff. And other people, such as myself ... we don't experience that, no matter how much "partying" we do or whatever.

The thing is, I know that I have an addictive personality, at least to a point. I have seen the obsessiveness and the abuse of the self and substances and of life that accompany that demon, addiction. I just struggle so much with two main hallmarks of an addict: ONE is that I often feel that there is a hole inside of me that must be filled, and I try to learn and work and fill it with the "right" things, good things, healthy things. But it's a dangerous duty. Anyone can slip, intentionally or not, and it's so easy to start filling that hole up with numbness, the easiest thing to do. TWO is that I feel so "different" from others for some reason and always have. I have never met an addict who did not feel this way, somehow, in some way, different, standing alone, outside, even weird and disliked, by others. Wanting to be accepted somewhere, into some family, some organization, but never feeling like you fit. How can this be when there are so many of us?

I struggle against both of these things in myself everyday. I think the second one is even harder than the first, that is to say more difficult. Through therapy and all of my reading and just different things I'm always pursuing, I HAVE learned a bit about filling that "hole" with the proper things. I don't always succeed, but I know HOW (not that I don't have more to learn, that I want to learn). The thing is, I really still struggle with the problem of never fitting in, always feeling different and alone and ugly and outside. Even though I know that many other people feel this way for whatever their different reasons are, I never feel like that makes it any easier for me to connect to any of them. Where are these people? Who are they? Why don't they ever talk about this stuff? Why don't they want to talk to ME?

It's a work in progress...

Psych Stuff

2010-03-04T20:02:00.000-06:00

Well, what should I say? Where to start? I haven't been writing as much as I'd like, but I'm doing a little writing in my own journal... meaning my personal paper-and-pen one. I work out the absolute darkest, most difficult shit there usually. Sometimes I expand on those issues here. Sometimes I just keep notes on stuff that I might want to explore in depth later or events in my life that I know I will want to remember just the way they are. I really love having a journal, and writing is just IN me. I have and always will write, whether I get paid for it or not. It's just who I am.

So it's difficult when my "issues" (for lack of a better term) get to me and even take my writing away. My doctors think that I have Adult ADD, but as with so many things, they haven't really said it's for sure; rather, they just try different meds and treatments for things, and if they work, they work. My doctors never seem to label the disorder at the root of the emotional or physical pain. Anyway, it has been suggested that I have my severe Migraine Disorder as a physical illness ... and then this ADD (only discovered / explored last year!) thing as a mental issue ... and a by-product of the suffering these two little bastards have caused is Depression... yay.

But it's tricky, this stuff, isn't it? They say that attention problems might be the secondary issues actually ... from medicine, from depression, from sleeping problems... all of which I have sometimes. I swear that when I'm not in pain and when I don't have raging ADD symptoms, I am not depressed. That suggests to me what I described in the last paragraph. That is the right diagnosis, according to what I feel. But the docs just seem to think that it doesn't matter so much what you ARE, what you HAVE and what it's CALLED, as long as we mess around with chemicals and everything enough to make it better. I think this is weird. Do they not talk to me more about diagnoses and things because they think that I, as a layperson, am too dumb to get it? Or do they just not give a shit? Or do they truly not focus on that stuff anymore ... like, maybe they feel it's detrimental to be teaching patients to label themselves "depressed" people or whatever. I'm not sure. I'm gonna press each of my docs next time I see them for more information.

I didn't do shit today, and I'm not planning to. I mean, I get so frustrated with myself and with these disorders or whatever. I always make a plan to wake up early and get going ... Meaning, I want to get up and maybe work out and then get in the shower and be clean and ready, ya know? But it is more frequently the case that I wake up with a headache or just sluggish because I didn't sleep well or whatever... both sometimes. So I drink the coffee, and I try to pump myself up a little, and I make lists of what I want to accomplish ... But then the headache will refuse to go away even with medicine, or I just can't seem to get the energy. It's shitty. Soon enough it's late afternoon, and nothing is done.

I allowed myself this for awhile. It's been just under six months since I received my disability qualification. For me, that was a blessing and wonderful news. Sounds crazy, but life has been crazy in the past couple of years. If I didn't stop the rat race, the craziness that was taking hold of life for me, which I have spoken of before, I would have just shriveled. Maybe I would have died eventually. I don't know, but everyday was worse than the last...

So I knew that I needed to rest and just get myself together, being gentle with my sick self and just letting the healing and energy come back to my spirit. At first, in the first three months maybe, everyone just went NUTS at the change in me... I mean, they were happy and glad to be around me and happy FOR me, you know? People constantly were telling me how much light and energy and just a glow or something had returned to me. And now ... Now I think that I lost some of that along the way over the past couple of months...

To Be Continued ...

To Blog Anonymously or Not?

2010-03-01T18:06:00.002-06:00

I am feeling so ... ick. First there was some evil virus that made me all sniffley and sleepy during last weekend. Then I had more energy but still just have had a difficult time getting back my mojo! I even made an appointment with my therapist! I mean, that's not, like, outlandish or something. It's just that I don't have regular, bi-weekly appointments with him or something. Rather, I just see him when there are problems or things going on that I am having trouble solving in my life. Well, now seems like that kind of time. I'll catch him up on everything this Thursday.

I don't usually write a lot about relationship troubles here ... that's one of the hazards of having a non-anonymous blog! In the past, I have had anonymous blogs and been "found out" by a psycho boyfriend twice. That really burned me. Even though he was in the wrong in 1) looking for my personal blog online and for 2) judging me and the things that he found upsetting about the blog he wasn't meant to read ... oh! and also for 3) imposing his own values and ideas about what his GF should and shouldn't talk about online ... even though he was in the wrong, somehow, I was the one that really suffered. That is why, even though I have been blogging for years, keeping such a detailed record of my life and my thoughts, I have no archives besides the ones here. I have changed a lot since those days and vowed not to delete a blog again ... especially not in response to the wishes of a boyfriend.

Any readers out there, who know me in "real" life or otherwise, might as well know that this is my true and authentic-as-possible account of my life. It's MY life, at THIS time, in THIS place ... MY thoughts and reactions, MY feelings, MY ever-changing views and opinions ... and sometimes it is a place where I just hash things out, meaning that what I write here might not be the full story on what I think about something ... It might just be my working out a problem. You know how sometimes you "decide on" several different courses of action before actually embarking on one? Well, I do that in my writing quite often. And it's just better that anyone who might be quick to make assumptions knows that what I write here is NOT a record of my decisions or finalized plans. And if all of that is too confusing or troublesome for you, maybe you better just stay in the realm of our "real" life.

But still, having a blog that people who actually know me read means I don't write quite as freely as I would otherwise do. I have toyed with the idea of creating another blog, somewhere else, where no one knows it's me (or maybe I already have), but then I would probably stop this one. I'm only interested in writing about my life once! And in a coincidental opposite-situation, I would probably write TOO openly in an anonymous blog, and if anyone who knows me read it, they would instantly know it was me!

So this is it. This is me. I do not refrain from writing things that might offend, in terms of politics, religion, opinions on life and people and whatever comes to mind. The only time I sometimes censor myself is if it's a case of hurting someone personally. Like, if someone in my family gave me a present that I didn't like, or if they had a personality trait that really annoyed me, something they couldn't change, I wouldn't write that. Because ... what can be done? I tend to be against teasing and complaining about others when they have either a) done the act in good faith, such as choosing a gift, or b) are doing something or have a trait that they cannot change about themselves. Other than those types of personal things, I try to write openly. Anything else is a disservice to the act of blogging (in the definition of what I mean my blog to be) and to my own life's account.

For some reason, I feel like I had to write about this and address these issues today. I have not received many complaints -- although I have gotten a couple -- regarding this blog, but like I said, the past burns bright in my memory. That whole relationship burns and stings in my memory, but oh, that's a story for another day...a day when I want to be thoroughly depressed! Anyway, I hope that anyone reading this who knows me, will take it to heart...

Bottom line? If you read something here that rubs you the wrong way or seems like it's hurtful to you ... PLEASE ask me about it and allow me to explain in person! Allow me this blog to write and express and explore what I think and feel. Sometimes it's the only "safe" place to do so.

The Bloggess Said!

2010-02-16T16:00:00.001-06:00

...That I could steal this :) And I did, because I approve of the sentiment whole-heartedly!

I Sure Do Hate to Beat a Dead Horse

2010-02-16T12:00:00.001-06:00

...But ya DO haveta make sure its DEAD! ba-dum-bum (and no, TerminallyUniq does NOT condone any type of actual animal abuse ... if I need to print that, then you're an idiot). I'm pretty sure this is the last time I'll discuss John Mayer's filthy mouth until the next time he says something.

UPDATE (02.17.10 21:05): OOH!! I lied!!!! What can I do? HE's the one that can't shut up! Look at me; I don't even have to write my own stuff now; I just link to articles like this which bring all those sassy racist and sexist and plain old moronic statements together into a nifty post -- with photos!!

Loose Ends

2010-02-16T01:56:00.001-06:00

Well, I seem to be wide awake tonight (perhaps because I spent the majority of the weekend sleeping??). So I figure this is the perfect time to tie up some loose ends from past posts. You know, I began writing about my religious faith (which will be an ongoing journey and examination, not wrapped up in one post), I shared the hope I had after meeting my new doctor and getting new medication, I began to rant at John Mayer (hope he didn't think I was finished with him!), and I posted a link for you all to read about the earthquake we had here (never saw that one coming).

Easiest -- The 'quake was about a 3.8 they decided, after first posting it as 4.3 (not sure how such issues get ironed out). I hear of exactly NO ONE who was injured or even incurred more than minor damage (apologies if you have such a story and I am unaware... no insensitivity intended). I guess we had an earthquake in Illinois a couple years ago, but it was too far away for us Chicagoans to feel. And my mom tells me there was a moderate one back when I was a baby.   But I have never in my life personally experienced this phenomenon.    Here in the midwest we fear "twisters" and rightly so! We, as a region, have suffered great devastation from tornados sweeping through here. But an earthquake!!

First off, thanks be to God that it was not another one like in Haiti. That one was -- needless to say it -- one too many for the poor people there. For any people to deal with, but so sad for the Haitians who have such limited (in many cases, NO) resources. We were lucky here; this 'quake was just enough to be interesting, something to gossip with each other about ("Did you feel it?" "What did you think it was?" etc). I was sleeping on my couch, having crashed out in front of the TV. Dorian was asleep in his cat house, directly at eye level across the room from me. I was tossing and turning and had woken up moments before. My cat was sleeping peacefully when all of a sudden there was this ... sound, and also the feeling ... of everything shaking. The closest experience I can relate is that of being underground when a train is going overhead on a bridge or something. I thought that it was my upstairs neighbor doing something -- I had no idea what, but he makes loud and unidentifiable noises all the time. But I also could tell this was not the activity of one human being, because there was such uniformity to the quaking. Every wall, the floor, and the ceiling were all shuddering equally in force. I think it lasted 15 seconds or so.

Dorian woke from his sleep with a start the very second it hit. My poor baby! I have never, in all of our car rides, moves to new places, vet visits, etc., EVER seen his eyes so huge and his ears pricked up so high! He did what he usually does when he is afraid, or thinks maybe he might need to be afraid, and looked directly into my face. This is such an endearing trait in my pet: like a child looking to the trusted parent for reassurance, he looks to me when something is loud or disturbing to him, when a new person enters our home, things like that. If I say (as I did during the earthquake), "That's alright, baby, that's okay. It's okay" (and repeat!), then he calms down. He trusts me! I think it's so beautiful.   And so that is what I said to him, desperately trying to hide the fact that I actually did not know whether "it" was indeed "okay". It was startling and scary, but over so quickly. I might have felt frightened longer, or I might have gone upstairs and finally beat my neighbor to a pulp. But within moments, a few friends sent texts, everyone checking on everyone else, wondering whether they felt it, all of that stuff. Once I knew that all was well, and began to see on the TV news that reports were coming in of a minor earthquake, well, then it became just an interesting start to a day!

With the earthquake behind us then, I blogged about how John Mayer pissed me off. I have seen the media beat him down fairly sufficiently this past week, but still. The whole racial issue is just disgusting. I won't get over that crap from him. I just won't. But the thing that I haven't heard much talk about is how he spoke of former girlfriend Jessica Simpson. The whole way that he was so flippant and sarcastic, seeming to say that he had to get out of their relationship so that he could be mature. Ick. Talk about having no self knowledge at all. He spoke in the two interviews about his ex as though he was just loving the hot sex he had with her (we ladies always love it when you share details with the world, guys), but sigh ... alas ... he had to be a man and move on with his life.   VOMIT.   I'm not a huge Jessica Simpson fan or anything; I mean, she's okay, I've liked a few of her songs, and I think she comes off pretty ditzy and over-privileged. But this is just respect. I can't stand the way that Mr. Mayer talks about her. I can't stand the way a lot of the media talks about her (she is SO far from the hideous, gargantuan ogre that you would think, reading some of the press). I hope that she knows any man who actually loves her, as Mayer claims to, would speak kindly and respectfully about their relationship. Her ex-husband, Nick Lachey, does a great job of this.

So, John Mayer: You are an arrogant prick. I believe you are a racist, in some part of yourself that you need to examine. I don't buy the line that you just ran your mouth out of ignorance (well, there's that TOO). You have amazing musical talent, you're okay looking (a trait which is instantly elevated to HOTHOTHOT when you're a rock star), and you've been given amazing opportunities and blessings to use and enjoy during your time on this planet. It would do you well to go away, get therapy, get faith, get a real woman as a girlfriend (although ... good luck), get whatever you need to man up. If you can't do that, then you're just a one-trick pony. It's a good trick, but it's just a trick. Sad.

Okay, what else folks? Oh ... yes, I spoke rather harshly about my Catholic upbringing. Well, I have no other way to speak of it. But when I was about 23 years old, I stood at the deathbed of a beloved, absolutely-consumed-with-the-joy-of-Christ grandmother. And Something happened. I have tried many, many times to explain in words, to write, to share, to verbalize ... what happened to me there. My mother was able to understand, I think because the three of us (Grandma, Mom, and me) were all very close. But I have sort of given up on telling the story until such time as I feel "called" to do so. What I can tell you is that I was transformed that night. It was the year 2000. There was grief and loss to face when my grandma passed, of course. But I knew right away that she had given me Something, as though passing me a note before she left this world.

Grandma was an amazing woman in so many ways, tough and funny and generous and beautiful and smart ... and she was a living, breathing, walking, talking example of living one's faith. When Christians speak of joy and peace and non-judgment and living a life that mimics that of Christ, of embodying the true spirit of the Word ... well, we all know that it is rare to see and feel the presence of someone who really lives it. My grandma lived it, truly. She never feared. She ran boldly into life, she laughed, she shared, she loved. She honestly, genuinely believed in every fiber of her being in her God. And she showed me that if you can find that faith, if you can believe and know, you never have to fear or worry or wonder ... You never have to do anything but live and pray and give thanks. Oh, yes, MUCH easier said than done. But she had it down.

And that is how I began my journey into faith... (stay tuned)

Rehab: The New Spa?

2010-02-16T01:07:00.000-06:00

Wow!! I'd say it has been a busy week for one and all of us! It seems that whether you are a celebrity entering rehab for pretend issues / ailments or you are a humble writer coming up in the blogging world like me, ya had a helluva week!

SO. Chynna Phillips. What shall we say? If you didn't hear, the former lead singer of girl pop trio Wilson-Phillips (and, I guess, current Christian musician ... I'm not familiar with her work) has checked into rehab to deal with "anxiety," per her rep. MmmmHmmm. .... ... PEOPLE!!! WTF? Why do celebrities persist in telling us they are rehabbing for things like "exhaustion" and "anxiety/depression" and recovery from physical ailments? It's gross. The reason I say so is that the whole sham makes a complete mockery of the real recovery process that so many regular folks embark upon courageously everyday. It makes a mockery, too, of disorders such as real anxiety and depression.

Drug treatment centers and other rehab facilities that serve those with eating disorders or any combination of addictive behaviors are serious businesses. They don't open their (very expensive) doors to you so you can have a place to flop down and recuperate because you are exhausted or stressed. That is called a hotel. If you are recovering from an illness or even a particularly taxing time in your life, there is an over-abundance of spas and retreat centers like that to serve your needs. Don't pretend that you're just tired and tell people you've gone to rehab to rest. It's disgusting to me. It's so difficult for everyday joes and janes to take that step and enter treatment, to continue living life while working a recovery program, to admit it, to deal with it, to own it. Celebrities piss me off (if you couldn't yet tell) when they play these games. They want us to know ALL about it when they are dating someone new or have a new cd/movie/reality show, etc., but when it comes to their real-life dilemmas, they feign perfection. People look up to them, and it would really be amazing if they could show that they are real.

I'm sincerely sorry that the Phillips have had the life they've had, and have to face ongoing pain and fallout from what their parents did. I'm sorry for anyone who buckles under the pressure of their past, anyone who gets sucked into the terrible darkness of addiction, no matter what started it. A great many of us have abuse or addiction or loss or incest or God-forbid more than one of these in our pasts. I want to see a day when there's no shame in admitting that you are seeing a therapist or a doctor or taking medication or even checking yourself in someplace, to DEAL with it. I guess for now, that's my word on that.

The Elixir of Life...

2010-02-13T12:45:00.001-06:00

Is most definitely laughter. I have always found that laughter -- good, genuine, uninhibited, belly laughter -- is one of the best medicines around. When I am with my funniest friends, my family (I'm blessed on Mom's side with some of the most innately funny people around!), or observing a favorite comedian/comedienne, and when I get to laughing so hard that my breathing actually changes, and tears start coming out of my eyes and making my nose run ... That feeling lasts beyond the moment. It changes things.

So I was excited to see that the Huffington Post is running an article about the 20 most influential black comedians in our country -- in honor of Black History Month. You can read the article and vote on your favorites and ones you think shouldn't have made the list. It's fun! I have to say that I had a blast seeing who they chose, and I agreed with at least 75% of the choices. Also, I guess it does have to be considered that saying one is "most influential" does not necessarily mean they are the funniest. I can see in people like Richard Pryor and Bill Cosby (not saying they aren't funniest) that their original ideas and creative risk-taking on stage laid the foundation for many, many other artists and acts that would come later. I didn't even see a stand-up routine by Richard Pryor until I was older than 30!!! And by that time, I had seen other comedians, ones who were famous during "my" generation ... and really believed that certain jokes, certain ways of telling a joke, etc., were their original material. But after I saw Richard Pryor, I know there has definitely been some style-bitin' goin on! Not to say that's a horrible thing; I mean, in the arts, people want the style and idea that they have come to know. If they love a guy like Pryor and they come to see some lesser-known artist, well, that lesser-known better tell jokes the "right" way at least ... and the right way would be sort of like Pryor.

Well, I went ahead and got interactive with it, because I loved all these guys and gals (only two made the list I think, only two females). I've been teased by friends at times when they ask the question, "And, um, do you like any comedians who are NOT black?" because all my favorites seem to be! I do like George Lopez and Lisa Lampanelli (sp?) and Lewis Black, to name a few. But they aren't my favorites, for whatever reason.

The scale for voting is 1 (lowest) to 10 (legendary). My choices were:
9's (consistently hilarious and creative but not quite legends in my mind): Chris Rock, Bernie Mac, Mo'nique
10's (truly legends and icons in their field): Richard Pryor, Wanda Sykes, Cedric the Entertainer

...Let me know if you do it and have your own ideas! I might have a different list, but I was going with just the 20 choices they gave in the article. Loved it! Oh, and I almost forgot to add my favorite of all the quotations attributed to the people in the article:

My mother wanted me to be a lawyer [but I told her] that I needed to choose my own destiny. I wanted to be an actor. So two weeks after I graduated college, I called my mom one day and asked to borrow $200. She said to me, "Why don't you act like you got $200? --Arsenio Hall

This is Me

2010-02-13T03:08:00.002-06:00

If I promise only to write my own original thoughts and hilarious comedy for the next six months (or this weekend at least), will you please just humor me (no pun intended ... okay, pun intended) and check out the "conversation" below? One of my top bloggers has a Label/Tag category called "Stuff I Wish I Thought of First." If I had that one, I'd be placing it on this post, but that probably goes without saying! Anyway, today's post is a prime example of what I love (and what I believe her hundreds - possibly thousands? - of fans love too) about her: it is creative and beautiful in its simple humor and cleverness. Hope you like it the way that I do! Oh, and if you are at least a bit like me in that I love cats a lot, you will definitely like it. ("Victor" is the husband, and "me" is the Bloggess)

(All content rights reserved exclusively by TheBloggess and TheBloggess.com)
Victor: What the fuck are you are you doing? Aren’t you supposed to be working?

me: I’m learning about neuroscience.

Victor: You’re looking at pictures of kittens.

me: I’M DOING BOTH, ASSHOLE.

Victor: I’m going to block the internet on your computer when you go to sleep tonight.

Conclusion: Victor is intimidated by my knowledge of science. I’m like Yentl when she had to become a cross-dresser to learn the Torah, except that I have to go hide in the bathroom and pretend to have food poisoning so that I can look at pictures of cats on my iphone without getting hassled. This is exactly why it sucks to be a girl.

Dear John (Mayer)

2010-02-11T23:12:00.001-06:00

I wrote this on Wednesday and put it into my "drafts" rather than posting it, because I thought I wanted to add something or check some facts or ... sheesh, I don't even recall! Anyway, as an update before I post it now, I was just watching Joy Behar's show, and a lady I don't know who is a guest was on there discussing this whole matter. I'm in total solidarity with any and all who feel John Mayer is making an ass of himself and has really said offensive things (as my post here will explain further); but this lady's little example was to say, "John Mayer didn't even add an 'A' at the end of the 'N' word when he used it, like Eminem would do." Oh, ha ha ha. If anyone can send me one example of one time when Eminem has ever used that word (with an 'a' or not), please, please send it to me. I implore you. Why bring him into this? He isn't a racist who compares his tiny little penis to a white supremacist ...

Okay! I am just fuming at this mother-##er. No, not the one below; the one named in this blog's title. I have a lot that I want to say about John Mayer, based upon my recent reading of Rolling Stone's article about him and excerpts I've read from an upcoming Playboy interview with him. But now is one of those times where I am too too. I am just too too. I mean, I say that I'm fuming, and I am... oh, I certainly am over things he has said and apparently truly believes. But I'm also just sort of bewildered and horrified.

The most egregious of Mayer's errors is the one that Shane Powers discusses pretty succinctly in his vlog below. The only part of it that I do not agree with is when he says that Mayer is "not racist" but only "stupid". Anyway, I will say more on what I think -- including the other offensive issue (and equally offensive in some ways, if you are a woman, or a human being with a scintilla of respect for those with whom you have shared intimacy), which is his comments on past girlfriend Jessica Simpson. Another time.

For now, I leave you with Shane. You might want to check out his blog. You might not. Sometimes I think he's funny and cool, and sometimes I wish he'd shut the eff up.

I Am Peeing With Laughter

2010-02-11T02:21:00.000-06:00

I have linked to this blog before, and today I just loved it; it also helped that I read it at a moment when I just needed a great and ridiculous story before hitting the lights and going to sleep. The Bloggess is extremely close to everything that I aim to be as a writer and blogger and cracker-upper of my friends and anyone else who's around!

'QUAKE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

2010-02-10T04:29:00.003-06:00

Gooood Morning CHICAGOland!!!!!

F T W !!!

2010-02-10T01:08:00.002-06:00

Okay, LOOK! All you crazy, corner-cutting, paranoid, panic-stricken, freaked-out Industries, Corporations, Organizations, Companies, Websites, Manufacturers, Advertisers, Conglomerates, CEOs, Other-Executives-With-Bright-Money-~~Grubbing-Schemes~~-Making-Ideas, et. al.:

All I want to do is play Super-Farkle on Facebook (I'm talkin' the Facebook which existed ten days ago before the "layout" was "upgraded"), post un-modest quantities of digital photography featuring my pet cat on my blog and other social networking communities, watch TV commercials and Justin Bieber videos on YouTube without having to download FlashPlayer v.9.5.0.x.B.2 every hour-and-a-half, and be able to burn music that I purchased with my own money onto a disc which will later play on anything called a "CD Player" or "CD-Rom" or similar!!!!!

... Also, I don't want to purchase a "blanket" if I made the mistake of buying my airline tickets on a flight where it costs $16.50 to obtain said item only to find out it's made out of something not-vaguely-resembling a garbage bag with Nerf padding inside. And if I do happen to find myself on such an unfortunate aircraft, wrapped in plastic, puh-leeze don't let me look out the window TWICE on TWO SEPARATE journeys like that one guy only to see your "staff" playing monkey-in-the-middle with my brand new guitar. Also, I'd like a snack. Or at least a drink of water. Included in the price of the ~~garbage bag~~ blanket.

...Oh, um, and I just really, really don't want to DIE while pitching aimlessly forward at 190 m.p.h. in my little foreign sedan while both feet press for dear life on a flacid brake pedal (per manufacturer's instructions given to me on morning talk shows all this week) and the gas pedal thuds to the floor with a demonic weight, in defiance of known natural law; but if that is my fate, I DO want to have my eyes open at that last moment and NOT have them closed due to my chronic sneeze-and-wheeze condition (it started when I moved in to the house with the new Chinese dry-wall), which might be Cancer but I'm not too sure because I have what's called a "Limited Health BENEFIT Plan" which doesn't cover visits to any doctors practicing in the continental United States.

So, if you guys could take care of that, it would be cool. I mean, not that you aren't already working on all of these improvements and innovations, I'm sure! Matter of fact, doesn't anybody ever give you, like, annual bonuses or government ... like, bailouts or something like that to help you ~~fix all your crap~~ do all your hard work?

An Unlikely Ally ...

2010-02-09T08:59:00.001-06:00

...and yet, if the, um, cowboy boot fits, then, I'm'a wear it! And yes, it would appear that sometimes I do hold on a bit to a grudge, that I am somewhat unable to let sleeping dogs lie ... and all of that. Ahh..I'm punchy, didn't sleep well last night, but I'm still in a good mood, and so it makes for a silly situation in my mental state...

ANYWAY. My unlikely ally -- because I do not like her music and just plain don't think I have anything in common with her (except pretty soon my WEIGHT and her daughter's, if I don't find something that can be done about mine ... and I'm sorry if that sounds catty or mean; it's really more of a desperate and self-deprecating cry of lamentation about a personal situation that grows ever-more-out-of-control in my life ... but, as always, I digress...)-- is Naomi Judd in this situation. And since I've now shown myself to be an insecure, shallow, catty, insouciant little girl, all before 9 o'clock in the morning, I'll just let this link speak for itself; and if you've been following along with the suggested reading, you'll get what I'm sayin'

Peace everyone. Please take me with a grain of salt. Or pepper. Or sugar. Whatever you like best.

Doctor-Tweets and Evil Nuns

2010-02-09T00:19:00.003-06:00

...There were a few other things about which I wanted to write recently, but they didn't really fit in with my last post... Randomness follows...

For one, I mentioned recently, in speaking of my (needless) fear of the impending doctor appointment, that the new doctor had been Twittering about odd things. Well, as you know, I recently dumped my Twitter account, but before I did, I checked out his latest stuff, and it was back to normal. Normal for him is posting information about headache studies, supplements that are helpful for headaches, um, just everything you ever wanted to know about headaches in general. But on that one weird day, he was sort of going off, as much as you can do so on Twitter. He spent like 5 posts (as you might or might not know, Twitter allows only 140 characters per post) saying stuff about how "those" with borderline personality disorders or other mild (and therefore, often mis-diagnosed or undetected) personality conditions can "wreak havoc" on a medical office. He went on to "Tweet" that these people are often treated with a rapid succession of anti-depressants "with predictably poor results." I just thought it was strange. For one thing, it was the only posting I'd ever seen from him that had any sort of personal emotion to it. I mean, it wasn't much, but he seemed to be complaining, like maybe someone (patient? staff member? FORMER DOCTOR????) with such a disorder had recently "wreaked havoc" on HIS medical office. He ended this little mini-rant with "to be continued," but as far as I know it never was, in fact, continued. Oh well. He was good to me when I met him today, so I don't care about anything else, quite frankly. :)

SO that was that. I'm over it. I just want to be done with the worry! I did it to myself in a way, as I wrote in my last post, but I also have been through so much that I give myself a little leeway to be anxious about such things. I have never been a drug-seeker, for all my faults, never gone to a doctor will fake intentions or things like that ... and when a person is suffering genuine pain and doesn't know what to do and is begging for help, guidance, treatment ... You just need to be humane, need to have "people skills" in addition to that medical degree. I'm so thankful (again, again, can't say it enough!) that I have found this clinic and this doctor.

So what else? Oh, well, I wanted to speak about my faith, not that anyone asked or anything :) It's just been on my mind. I suppose I'm like many people in that when times are extremely bad or extremely good, I really think even more (because I'm an over-thinker at all times, to be sure) about the meaning of things, who or what is in charge, how is that proverbial wheel in the sky kept turning (ode to Journey and the book of Ezekiel, take your pick, I like 'em both).

So what do I believe? I feel, more and more lately, that I need, that I want, to sort this out. Well, I was raised Catholic. That had a large impact on my life, especially when I was being forced to go to church until the age of 18 (house rules in my family), and that impact was mainly negative. The single, and most terrifying and damaging thing that took place -- although it was by no means the only one -- was in 4th grade Catechism class, where we had an absolutely ancient nun for a teacher. (Quick note for the uninitiated: on Sundays, we were supposed to attend Catechism, we called it "C.C.D." and I don't remember what that stood for, if we attended public school during the week; those who attended Catholic school didn't have to do this.) So this nun was at least 197 years old, and she was nasty. I mean it. She was mean, she had no teacher's training that was relevant to children our age from our background (if she had any teacher's training at all; it certainly wasn't a requirement). She regularly yelled insults at kids who didn't have their books or supplies or whatever; I remember it was kids who had to shuffle from parent to parent on weekends, things like that. ...You know, kids whose parents might have been going through their own crap and didn't think to send the student to CCD with his pencil or his workbook or whatever. A lot of the kids were poor; that's why we didn't attend the private Catholic school in the first place. She couldn't care less who we were though. She was merciless and joyless and loveless. She didn't want to be there with us, teaching us the beauty and meaning of the Catholic religion, the love and joy and meaning that could be ours if we lived accordingly ... Oh, is that not what teaching children their faith is about? I could be mistaken. Anyway, I don't know where she wanted to be. She was ugly inside and out, that bitch. Mmm-hmm, I said it. I called that nun a bitch.

Well, the thing she did that destroyed me personally was this. One bright young Sunday in my life ... she somehow got onto the subject of SIN. That was not mentioned in-depth in the 4th grade reading books, I assure you. But of course, she probably didn't even read those books. And, if you know anything at all about Catholicism, you know that SIN -- determining what is a sin, and what kind of sin it is, which sins send you to hell, which might be forgiven and which cannot ever be forgiven, etc., this is a big chunk of what it's all about. So Sister Imelda (yep, her real name, I don't give a damn) starts in about sin. And then she goes there. She starts telling us about sexual thoughts and feelings and (gasp) actions. She explains to the aghast/bored/giggling/variously-occupied-with-anything-but-listening-to-her 8 and 9 yr olds that while we might just be interested in looking at each other, it's a SIN to think about things like touching private parts: someone else's OR our OWN!!! Yes, kids, touching others' private parts is a sin, ok? And furthermore, touching your OWN private parts is also a sin. Got it? Good. ... NOW, lest you get the wrong idea, don't even think that you can get away with thinking about touching anybody's private parts! Why? It's a SIN!!!!!!! And it isn't a "venial" sin (that's the kind that God can forgive if only you go and confess it to your local priest). Nope, it's not that kind at all. Rather, touching body parts, yours or others' and also thinking about touching body parts ... these are mortal sins, children!!!!! They separate you from God, and you go to HELL!

With God as my witness, she said it to us. She said these exact things, and my traumatized, sensitive, precocious 9-year-old self remembers it like it was yesterday ... NO... Like it was earlier today. I don't remember a lot about what the other kids did or how they reacted or whether they were even listening. I do recall one particularly mischievious boy laughing and making snide comments. How many times I have wished for that sense of humor, sense of caprice, personality ... whatever it was that allowed him to laugh rather than fall to pieces the way I did. Because that shit was no fuckin' joke for me. I died that day. I was never, ever the same.

I am not going to make this about my sexuality and when and how much I knew and all that (not right now anyway). But at that age, I was aware of cute boys, was aware that one day, I would do that stuff that makes babies with them, and was vaguely aware of my own body parts (you know, those ones). And so, while some kids might have been at different stages with their knowledge and development at that age, that's where I was. And because of this, because I had noticed and thought about, and been curious about, myself and other kids and cute boys and all of that ... well, I had just been informed that God was angry and that I had committed a sin which was going to send me to hell when I died one day. I was nine. It was already over. I had ruined my life. And my afterlife. OH. MY. GOD!

The fallout was tragic and long-lasting. I guess, since I'm writing about it at great length and feeling angry yet again here and now, it's still resonating with me even today, these TWENTY-FIVE YEARS LATER!!!! I remember that day, we went to my grandma's after church for donuts, per family tradition. I don't know how I must have behaved, but I was a child of an alcoholic and already well-trained to behave as though nothing was wrong when everything was. I guess that's how I made it through that day and many after it. I never spoke of what was on my mind. I never spoke to my parents about what I had done, my terrible thoughts, my sins, the fact that I was a terrible demon in God's eyes and would not join them in Heaven when I died. I kept it inside my little mind, my little heart. THAT. BITCH. I was a little girl. I didn't understand. Well, obviously. Let me just say, as my adult self today, that if someone ever did something like this to a child of mine (which I don't currently have any of), and really, even if there was a way for me to travel back there and protect THAT child, ME, via time machine or something ... I would beat this lady physically, I think. I really believe that. Wanna talk about sin, bitch? I'll show you some mortal effin sin up in here.

And no, that wouldn't make me right. And it wouldn't teach the old cow anything. And yes, it is my belief that the God I NOW believe in would be unhappy I did that. But I think my rage and the years that went by before I knew better or felt better about that incident would just ... that's what would happen, that's what I would do. I'd have to sit down and talk with the Big Man Upstairs about it after. Good thing there are no time machines anywhere around here.

Okay, so I wanted to write about my faith. And that was my first introduction to "faith." But it isn't faith as I know it now. I think for tonight I have written enough, if anyone is even still reading. The wonderful and beautiful thing is that today as a grown woman, I have had amazing experiences, I have learned and seen and sensed true divinity in ways that defy my explanation sometimes. From these, I draw my spirituality. From these, I set out upon my journey to know my God. I do believe in Him. I do believe we can do things to separate ourselves from him, as we can do things that draw us nearer to Him. Oh, and I'm using "Him" as the pronoun to describe a God I know, but I do not actually believe there is a human-type gender that embodies the divine. It's just the usual literary device, so I stick with it. I'm okay with using "Him." To say "It," for example, does not respect the personal presence that I have known and experienced at times. So next time I write about faith, let me write about these things... These things which are good and (I believe) true and beautiful. Because, that was a horrible day in my childhood, and I think, a horrible thing for a human being to do to a child. And let me also just say, that while I still do not wish to re-join the Catholic faith, I do not tell this story as a means of describing all nuns or all Catholics or any of that. Don't even go there with hate comments about all that. I know that the woman described above was one of a kind. And her evil was her own ugly thing.

THANKSGIVING IN FEBRUARY

2010-02-08T23:47:00.004-06:00

Well, this post has started out as a lot of different things tonight, but right now Blogger has really thoroughly ticked me off. Has anyone else had problems just, simply posting their blog posts????? I have been using the "new" post editor, or whatever they call it, but the past 2-3 days ... it just won't load. Who knows? Maybe it's my computer or browser or God knows what.

The important thing is that today I am so thankful (yes, post editor thingy's aside!). As I learned exactly one month ago, and as I have mentioned countless times since, I lost my amazing headache doctor. Lost ... as in, I have no idea where he went, and it does not look as though anyone is going to be telling me anytime soon. He's gone, he's "no longer practicing," as the receptionist at the headache clinic stated it to me on the telephone. And when I saw his boss today, the main headache expert, my new doctor by default ... well, he made it clear that we would not be discussing my old doctor. I had many of my own health concerns as usual, and concerns (to use a wild understatement) about meeting a new doctor ... so I just followed his lead and didn't bring up the odd situation. But I mean, under what circumstances is a doctor there one day, seeing me, setting another appointment with me, filling prescriptions over the phone for me ... and within four days, within the same week, gone? He was a new doctor, as in ... his medical license was brand new as of 09/09 (yes, I looked it up of course ... no blemishes on it so far!) ... but he is listed as co-author of studies with his boss as far back as 1999 ... so obviously they have had a professional relationship for many years. And now he is gone, and the office acts as though he never existed there. Something BAD must have gone down, that's all I can assume.

BUT. That definitely isn't why I'm grateful and counting my blessings today. I am, perhaps, a pessimist (perhaps, ha!) ... but dammit, I hold that title against all my best efforts!! I really try to learn to work against that proclivity or whatever it is. I mean, if nature (and we can be certain, nurture) has caused me to be a pessimist, a depressive -- or at least given to bouts of melancholy -- then, dammit, I am going to learn to work against nature and nurture as well!

So here's the story. Ever since I found out my doctor was gone, I have been alternately hysterical and fighting hysteria while effecting a facade of calm. Well, as this date, today, approached, it seemed more and more rapidly with every hour of every day, I became unable to keep up the facade. Shit, I was terrified of the new doctor. Does that sound ridiculous? Well, for those who don't know me well, a brief history: I suffer a severe and somewhat uncommon (in its severity) migraine disorder. I am currently not working, receiving disabilty, because of the terrible physical, emotional, professional (and on and on, etc., etc.) effects of this disorder on my life. Yes, many people, especially women, suffer migraines. People have them from a few times a year to every single day. I had become an every-single-day girl. And before that happened to me, I could not even imagine the far-reaching effects that everyday migraine would have on me. I mean, sure, it's obvious that it's painful, disturbing, exhausting, stressful... all that, right? But when it went on and on and on, and no one could help me, and there were all these medications, all these times of hope and then disappointment and side effects and constant strain on my body, constant vomiting and sleeping and lying in dark rooms and PAIN, PAIN, PAIN ... well, everything else just crashed around me, from my career aspirations to my education to my interpersonal relationships. Well, I said I'd be brief. That's the short story!

So here we are today. I met my new doctor today. As I mentioned, he's the big kahuna, the old doc's boss. He runs the headache clinic, and actually, he is THE headache authority in my state. He is quite renowned nationally as well. The reason I feared him is the reason I have come to fear all doctors. There have been too damn many of them, and there are just too many who don't get it. From emergency rooms the Chicago-land over, to internal medicine doctors ill-equipped to handle my condition, to neurologists who became increasingly frustrated when they could not help me despite considering themselves pretty damn good with headaches ... doctors have treated me poorly, accused me of being a drug-seeker, a faker, a hypochondriac, etc. Ugh, I can't even think of them anymore, they're all dead to me now.

When I finally, after a decade of suffering, landed at this headache clinic, I was terrified as usual, but I quickly learned that my new doctor was awesome! Amazing! And today I learned that his boss (as any rational person might have assumed) was the one who most likely passed those traits on. Because my NOW-new doctor (after all of this) is WONDERFUL!!!!!!!

Yes, he is even MORE awesome than the one who is gone. He knows more, he's more professional, he's nice, he's understanding, he listened, oh! I could go on and on! The main thing is, I did not need to have worried a bit, not for a second. Geez. I'm a pessimist, I fear catastrophe in everything, but also ... I have experienced terrible things in my journey to find treatment for my condition.

And now! Now! Well, beginning last July, actually ... I have found this clinic, and they are different there! They GET it. They do not think that someone who comes to them in severe daily pain, with headaches that cause them to vomit until their stomach aches, on a daily basis at times ... they do not accuse me of "seeking painkillers," they do not act suspicious of what I'm reporting as symptoms, they UNDERSTAND. They know other people who have suffered like I have!!!! I DON'T EVEN KNOW ANYONE WHO HAS WHAT I HAVE!!!!

I am so thankful. Although not a dogmatic, organized-ly religious person, I am spiritual, and I have a deep faith in things (I shall describe at a later time). Many people in my family and among my loved ones prayed for me and sent positivity my way in whatever manner they chose, leading up to this appointment today. I prayed hard and did whatever positive visualization I could muster, even when it seemed my fear and anxiety was so much more powerful. I believe in these things. I believe they led me here and will continue to shine upon my path. And that is why, no matter where I've been, I am grateful for where I AM, today.

The Wrath of the Stevie Nicks Fans

2010-02-06T23:17:00.000-06:00

Today I quit Twitter for good. I thought about quitting the blog and Facebook too. Well, not Facebook. All my friends are there, and we have friendly and fun conversations just about all of the time. And that's wonderful, because right now, I just seem to need a lot of support. Lots of laughter. Lots of conversation about pop culture, music, daily life, whatever. Human contact is good. My life has been so unpredictable and different than ever before. Sometimes I hardly see or speak to anyone for days.

So, I think it's because of my life changes and upheaval that I have been a lot more sensitive than usual. I know that my Miley-Cyrus-esque Twit-Quit was dramatic; I also know that the "old" me, the "real" me, whichever I might call her ... would not have done it that way. At least, I don't think she would have. I think she would have fought back and laughed it off and just not even worried about it. But I did worry about it... well, I got all sensitive about it and allowed it to make me feel even worse about myself, which I did not believe was very much of a possibility at this point.

ALL THAT I FREAKING SAID on my stupid Twitter account was that I didn't think Stevie Nicks did a good performance on Sunday night's Grammy Awards show. I didn't think it was fair that Taylor Swift was being ripped all over (in another attempt which I believe is all-too-common these days, wherein we as a culture, looove to build these young kids up and up into mega-celebrities and then just rip them to shreds for any mis-step) by critics and bloggers for a performance of a song that wasn't even hers. The performance of "Rhiannon" sounded ... not bad exactly. But it wasn't a wonderful vocal achievement. But I heard a solid - if not extraordinary - voice out of Taylor, while Ms. Nicks was singing in the same voice I used to wake up with after smoking and drinking at the bars in those good old days. I'm just saying. No one has to agree with me, I couldn't care less one way or another. Just wanted to put my two cents in, because, well, that's what you do on Twitter. You talk about shit. Stuff that's on your mind. Your opinion.

That was days ago. Tonight I logged on briefly, mainly to see what my new headache doctor had posted recently (he had a strange flurry of strange Tweets recently, but I suppose that's a whole other post). Well, @doclarry (not his exact real name) hadn't posted anything, but I noticed that I had been written to by strangers. That really NEVER happens to me on Twitter. It's very rare and usually only if I have asked one of them a direct question. I have found that the Twitter-verse is more for hipsters and Hollywood people. No one else really matters or makes waves I guess. But my humble little opinion about Stevie Nicks voice made waves. They told me that I was a "cunt," a "jealous bitch who looks like a half-dead Liza Minelli" in my Twitter profile picture, and also that I was just envious of Ms. Nicks' stellar career.

Um... I am not jealous of Stevie Nicks. I can already sing like that if I smoke a couple packs a day. I'm not jealous of either of those singers, and in fact, I admire both of them and both of their careers. That's all I'm even going to say about that. Sheesh. I still stand by my opinion of the performance. Even the best of the best can EFF up sometimes. Not sure how that makes ME a c-word.

I am freaking out about Monday, speaking of seeing people. Ugh. It's time for another headache doctor appointment. For the past 6 blissful months, I have been free, mercifully free, of the doctor-anxiety that I have had for so long. It's always something with many of these guys. They're either arrogant pricks even if they do know their stuff, or they're well-meaning but don't know the world of headaches, or they are mistrustful jerks who treat everyone as a drug-seeker unless and until they have suffered without needed medication sufficiently to prove themselves otherwise. It's a nightmare in general, but my most recent doctor has been such a God-send. Well, I think I mentioned here that about a month ago, I was informed that he was just gone. Gone, poof, "no longer practicing," they told me. It has all been very hushed-up and peculiar. So on Monday, another new doctor for me. The only good thing about this time is that I won't be a complete stranger to him, as he is the head doc in the clinic and was over-seeing my former doctor (who was new to the practice). He has been refilling medications for me during the past month, no questions asked, no bitching that he needs to see me first or that he doesn't agree with whatever treatment I'm currently on, etc, like I've had to deal with in the past. He is the expert, after all, the head guy, like I said. So maybe it will be a blessing that my treatment is now in his hands. I am praying and hope you will too, if you are so inclined.

**On a completely un-related but BRIGHT note, I am already learning all the notes and music for my brand new guitar (I've never played before, but always wanted to!), and my fingers are getting sore and beginning to callous beautifully, he he! I'm a happy rocker!

Out of the Closet

2010-01-28T18:21:00.000-06:00

I am in the process of trying on all my clothes. Ohhh, this is an arduous undertaking, let me tell you! The reason is twofold really. As many of you know, I have gained a lot of weight in the past year. The reasons why are a whole other post for another time, but the fact remains. I'm not happy about it, but I've made peace with the situation for right now. Also, I've really re-structured my nutrition, the way and times I eat everyday. I still work out sporadically despite my best efforts, but that's better than not at all. As usual, though, I digress ...

As the few people who can claim to have ever been my roommates can tell you, I have an abundance of clothing. I mean, I have a veritable shitload of every category! I love clothes and fashion, for one thing. And then there's the whole matter that over the past few years my size has fluctuated so very much due to medicines and my illness and stress and such (that's right, another post!). So my collection of clothing is just every size and shape imaginable.

Because I've been home the past few months, I've gotten into a lazy habit of wearing and re-wearing the same handful of newer, favorite clothes all the time ... leaving the rest (some other favorites buried and forgotten, I've discovered!) smashed together in my closet. It has been in the back of my mind that I want to organize them, perhaps storing the smaller clothing for a time when maybe I have lost some weight again. If it's something I no longer like or think I'll wear, then I plan to give it to my mom, who makes regular donations to places that give clothing to those in need. But like I say, this idea of organizing has been pushed to the back of my mind in favor of ... oh, I don't know, any old excuse: sleep, the holidays, a migraine, cat care ... anything really. I'm afraid it's one of those things that I want to be done but I don't want to do.

Well, I started the process this week, pushed along by the fact that I have a trip coming up. Also, I am just sick of the disorganization. This is how I operate; things pile up or wait, I procrastinate or whatever ... and eventually, I snap and won't deal with it anymore, and I just do it. I'm going to Hawaii in the middle of March ... yes, I know, how fun and glamorous and whatever, but hold your applause. I was actually tricked into agreeing to this particular time, this particular trip. I suppose I should explain how such a thing could possibly be anything less than amazing and exciting. I guess I wouldn't believe it myself unless I lived it. So in an upcoming post, I will tell you that story too.

I am finished trying on all my short-sleeved shirts, about half of which did not fit any longer. Bummer. Fortunately, my closet is hyper-organized by style and season, etc. so that I can now try things on in the same manner. Now I've moved on to dresses and next skirts. Dresses is almost finished, with really only a few of my extensive collection fitting me. That's a real bummer, because I have amassed a smashing dress collection, if I do say so myself. So I just keep focussing on the fact that soon I will have a pretty, organized, neat closet in which everything fits and can be chosen quickly and efficiently each day. And when I travel this spring, it will be easy to figure out what i have that I can wear and pack, and what I still need.

Speaking of which ... I have always loved to rock a bikini!! In fact, I just don't like to wear a lot of clothes! It sounds funny, maybe, yeah! But so true. I never wear socks, unless it's winter, and unless I'm going OUT in the winter. Even then sometimes I just slip on my boots over bare feet. I don't know what my deal is! I would rather wear shorts or pants and a bikini top or tank top. I always keep my apartment super-warm, so I can do this. I often forget that not everyone is into being summertime warm like I am, and therefore I forget to dress for the weather when I go to other people's houses. I would do best living in California, Florida, some place like that, for sure. And because of my preference for bikinis and barely-there outfits, well, I really would like to be at my "ideal" weight and fitness. It just makes sense.

The closet thing sucks though, I have to admit. I mean, I don't even like to try things on in the store before I buy them! I don't know what it is; I just don't like it. But it must be done, so I try to make it fun, or do it in parts. Tonight, for example, I am watching a fun TV movie ("The Pregnancy Pact" ... I love made-for-TV sensationalistic movies ha ha!) and trying a few things on at each commercial. One thing is good: I have already found that I have more clothes to wear in Hawaii than I previously thought. I went into this thinking I really had to buy practically a whole new wardrobe. Ugh! Not only expensive, but time-consuming and upsetting!!! I think swim gear is my main need.

Back in my closet now!

If You Dig This Chick's Sense of Humor, Then You Will Dig ME...

2010-01-26T10:31:00.000-06:00

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Neighborhood Rant

2010-01-20T12:41:00.000-06:00

So far I have kept my blog-mouth shut about my neighbors, have I not? I think that - save for maybe a word or two of irritation? - I have left them out of it. But no more! NO MORE!!!!!!!

My floor in the apartment building has four units on it, arranged roughly in a horseshoe. I am at one end of the 'shoe, and said neighbors are at the other; thus, they are directly across the landing from me (about 10 feet is all). Around the tiny corner, next to me, is a single man, The Drunk Guy, I call him. He bothers no one, as far as I can tell, and I really never even know when or whether he's at home. I don't think he works or owns a vehicle (I'm sure we can sadly venture a guess as to why); so I often see him staggering up the cement porch steps and swaying in front of the building door while he fumbles for the proper key to open it. He always slurs a hello.

The neighbors next to him used to be a little bit annoying until these others moved in, placing the former in the fresh light of comparison. The third ones, next to Drunk Guy, are Mexican as most of the tenants in this complex are (and no, that is not especially significant, except that it describes the demographic and the reason their children often shout things into the hallway that are even more unintelligible to me than those which American toddlers shout). Well, the two toddlers who live in this third apartment, seem to be twins, and I swear, there has to be something wrong with them; I'm not kidding you! I mean, I'm not a parent, so maybe one of you can tell me ... I am not exaggerating even a little bit when I tell you that every single time their apartment door opens, every time they are coming or going, both of them are screaming!

Seriously. Like most of my friends and family, you might not believe that this is true unless you witnessed it, but I tell you the truth. Why would two little twins be screaming at the top of their lungs every time they are being brought to and fro like this? And this is not happy chatter or peals of laughter; no, this is screaming, near to crying, but more like shouting to be put down or to be let go or to express anger ????? Two separate family members of mine suggested the kids might be Autistic or something! I don't know anything about the symptoms, but there must be something wrong.

Well, now. You can imagine how the other neighbors are, the ones across the landing, if they have driven all attention for the twins from my mind. Okay, now, really. The family is Mexican also. I know, because two of the ladies that live there were discussing their move here from Mexico one night in the laundry room. They were just shouting right over my head, at the top of their lungs, one lady at the far end of the dryers, and the other at the end near the washers. They had two tiny little kids with them, each one running full-speed through the laundry room, each one eating a huge, dripping apple, each one's voice bouncing from wall to wall through the building. We could hear it all the way into my bedroom, up on the second floor, while the laundry room is in the basement! What's with the bad manners and noise? And another thing, when I came down there to remove my things from the dryer, both little kids, dripping apple juice, came and stood on either side of my basket, saying "Hi" "Hi" "Hi" "Hi" non-stop, even when I answered them. They stared at every one of my intimates as I placed them quickly into my basket and got the hell out of there.

SIGH! It's not that I am embarrassed that a kid has seen my bra or my cami or whatever. If you know me at all, you know that I'm really not shy about that stuff around anyone! But that's another post. It's the fact that these neighbors of mine just let their kids 1.) scream, piercing the shit out of my ear drums while I'm down there, and reaching every apartment at least up to the second floor, and 2.) stand right in my personal space where I'm trying to get a task finished and they are all in my business! It's just something that I would not have been allowed to do as a child, because the former would be considered behaving like a fucking animal, and the latter is just plain rude.

That's four of the people who live there, two women and two kids. But judging from the numerous pairs of shoes that they feel free to leave outside their doorway, piled out onto our shared landing (typically 8 - 10 pairs at a given time), there must be about 8 people living there. Hell, maybe there are 10, one for each pair of shoes! I'm not sure, but I have seen at least three different men that live there, and possibly some younger girls or women that the ones who were doing laundry ... I can't be sure, because I've never seen them all together. Um ... I'm pretty sure that not more than four or MAYBE five people are supposed to be registered to a unit, because we only have two-bedroom apartments here. But they have found a way to avoid crowding one another, so don't you worry about them!

Yes, when everyone that lives across the hall is home for the evening, and as you might imagine, the home is getting crowded as all getout, they have found a solution: they open their apartment door and simply spill out onto the 10 x 6 ft shared landing between us and sometimes onto the staircases as well. What do they do there? Well ... the children cry a lot, and they scream, and they play loudly, as children will do. And the older people seem to be taking cell phone calls, chatting on phones and with one another, you know ... socializing! Hmm ... So if I am in my living room area, watching TV or whatever ... taking a nap perhaps :) ... they are just on the other side of the wall. And if I go into my bedroom, then they are on the other side of the wall, plus about 15 feet.

The other night, it was pretty awesome. After they had been out there doing their thing for a bit, and I was in a crabby mood at the moment, I remained where I was, on my couch with my back to that "shared" wall and shouted "SHUT THE FUCK UP!" and went on drinking my coffee. I'm not yet comfortable confronting ten people of various age and gender, while I am but one lone female, and they know where I live, ya know? So I just shouted in a manner that would carry my voice sort of through the air, up through the mutual vents. HA HA HA! It was so awesome, why? Because it WORKED!!!!!!! They were very quiet for a second, and then everyone ran inside and shut the door. I suppose there is a slight possibility that this was a mere coincidence, and they just planned to go inside right then; but I doubt that somehow.

Well, that was my small victory, but a victory indeed. I am someone who loves to sleep with windows open in the summertime, and I really never mind hearing outdoor noises and summer sounds, like music wafting in during the hot nights. It seems weird to me that those things don't bother me, but this neighbor stuff does. I don't know; I just know that in the summer, with windows and screen doors open, I expect to hear all sorts of sounds, from birds and wind blowing to other people's activities ... whereas when I'm in my apartment, and everything is closed, and it's winter, well, NO. I don't want to hear your phone and your talking and your crying. That's just how it is.