fucked up chick

Small Town Gripes

2011-08-31T02:48:00.000-07:00

Returning to the town where I grew up after my mother's death seemed like a good idea at the time. When she was in the hospital in September, 2008, I was all "it's so beautiful here, the air is clean and the people are friendly, why did I leave?" After being back for two years, I TOTALLY remember why I couldn't wait to leave.

I miss the energy and anonimity of big cities. I miss the fast pace of urban life. I miss the option of refusing to return to a store when I get crappy service. When there's only one place in town to get something, then you pretty much HAVE to go there, crappy service or not. The other options are to order over the internet (and pay for shipping,) or drive a hundred and sixty miles round trip to the next, slightly larger, town (and pay for gas) neither of which is a great choice.

Having lived here for over thirty years, my mother had quite a history. She was a visible, active member of the community, ran for city council a couple of times, never failed to make her opinions known. It can be a nice thing, being known for your family, but sometimes you can just feel the judgment when someone finds out who your parent was. It can leave a bitter aftertaste. And did I mention seeing her ex-lovers? That can be rather embarassing, especially when some of them really have NO idea what's in good taste.

I like running into people I know, even though I've become quite masterful at the sweet-but-swift brush-off, since otherwise a fifteen minute trip to the store becomes a forty-five minute "Oh I haven't seen you in so long!" conversation. Being surrounded by people who've known you for years is great, except when it's not, when it's petty and spiteful and grudge-holding.

Small town life can be amusing. There was a letter to the editor in one of the local papers this week about the illegalities of shooting and butchering a neighbor's goat that happened to get loose. It was funny, but it also struck me as being so provincial and vaguely ridiculous.

I liked having my choice of first-run movies to see in a variety of luxe theaters, even if we rarely went. Ditto with other entertainment and dining options. Here, there is ONE theater that hasn't been updated since the 70's, showing two or three movies per week. Last time I saw a film on the big screen, I was distracted by the ratcheting of the projector and how cold the building was.

Maybe I'm being petty or short-sighted, maybe I'm spoiled or impatient, but 99% of the people I went to school with now live elsewhere. Some of them didn't go too far, a couple of really good friends live in Anchorage. Anchorage is a city, a small city, but a city nevertheless.

No Free Bags

2011-07-29T06:54:00.000-07:00

I guess this would not come as a surprise to those (wonderful, loyal) few who still read my almost-nonexistant blog, but I often find my mind wandering far afield. Like the old "paper vs. plastic" debate. Pretty mundane on the surface, but rather complicated once you delve deeper. Because you have to kill trees to make paper bags, and you have to drill oil to make plastic ones. At least trees are a renewable resource. And probably the best bet is to bring your own reuseable bags to the store with you, provided you don't wash them too often, which uses water and detergent and electricity. Which brings me to the thought that that's how it used to be, you brought your own containers to carry things home in, because there were no free bags. You brought the miller your wheat, he ground it, and you carried the flour home in your own sacks. So who started giving away free bags when you purchased something at their store? I think it's a pretty enterprising thing to do, people were maybe more likely to shop there, but then, how did it become standard? And these days, it seems we're coming full-circle, with a movement by stores to stop giving away bags. Hmmm...

Lately...

2011-04-27T06:30:00.000-07:00

I haven't been writing...like AT ALL. No journal, no blog, no memoir, pretty sad really. I have been tweeting, but only sporadically, and how much can you really accomplish in 140 characters or less? I keep promising myself I'll do better, but all that's proven is that I'm bad at keeping promises, even to myself. I have big ideas, but without follow through, ideas, big or small, mean nothing.
I've been watching too much T.V., letting myself get lost in other people's fantasies. It's easy, which is such a trap for me. I've been doing nothing creative, and very little that's healthy. I haven't worked out since leaving California, and Alaska makes it expensive to eat well.
I socialize more than I did in So Cal, there are so many people I know here and it's generally okay to drop in for a cup of coffee and a chat, but I'm not sure how productive it is. I feel the love and support, but there's no real impetus to change or be better. Also, it can be a huge time-suck.

I'm dealing with a beautiful but moody boy-cat who gets upset easily and likes to pee in inappropriate places, like MY BED. He's one of Mom's cats and I tried to adopt him out, unsuccessfully. He spent three months in the local shelter, which did not help at all.

New Year's Resolutions I Can Live With

2011-01-10T17:38:00.000-08:00

Drink more red wine. Two (6 oz.) glasses a day is okay.
Eat more healthy seafood. I kind of forgot how yummy salmon is, and fish-oil capsules give you nasty burps.
Ask for help when I need it. There are lots of people who love and support me, but they're not mind readers.

My Unrequited Love For Katy Perry

2010-12-20T17:17:00.000-08:00

I don't know why I've developed such a thing for Ms. Perry, it kind of snuck up on me. Maybe because she started out as a Christian artist, but then decided she wanted more success and went the sexy, secular route, undoubtedly disappointing her parents. Maybe because some people trash her for this, while I find it laudable. I think Lady Gaga is a better artist and more original, but Katy makes me laugh. "California Gurls" and "Teenage Dream" just make me want to dance around in my underwear and giggle uncontrollably. I want to say she makes me feel fifteen again, but the truth is that I was too self-conscious to ever feel that free when I was fifteen, so I guess it's most accurate to say that she makes me feel how I wish I could have felt when I was a teenager, or something like that. I love that she married Russell Brand, 'cause he's wild and hot and funny, even though I don't think it will last, I hope it does. She seems more down-to-earth than Brittany, and I love that she's not conventionally gorgeous, but has a bit of character to her face. I can't wait to see how she develops as an artist, and what fascinating chaos and implosions her future might hold.

39,000,000

2010-11-19T02:58:00.000-08:00

Big number, huh? That's the number of sexually abused children in the U. S., according to Darkness 2 Light. Thirty-nine MILLION. Million. Mind BLOWN. And I'm one of them. One in six boys. One in FOUR girls. And that's just the U.S. It's really tripping me out right now, I guess because I try not to think about it much, and when I do, I minimize (it could have been worse, I was actually kind of lucky...). It can be a lot to deal with, and I don't think I've necessarily done a very good job of it. I'm not an addict, not a prostitute (although I did come close). There's still so much anger, so much shit that I don't know what to do with. I need to call my therapist, and maybe find a lawyer.

The Sound of a Single Shot

2010-10-23T18:28:00.000-07:00

it echoes and echoes and echoes...

Sometime in the dark of the late night or early morning of October 23rd or 24th, my little brother ended his life. No one heard the single gunshot, or if they did, they didn't know what it meant. Dismissed it as a car back fire maybe, or wrote it off as a warning to a bear. Gunshots aren't uncommon in rural Alaska, sometimes if you hear a succession, you might wonder what the hell is going on, but people rarely call the police.
He lay in the grass by the edge of the canyon for twelve or fourteen hours before Olga found him. I think of the stillness of the night, the dew settling, I can't remember if it frosted or not, not that it's really important. I feel bad for her, finding him that way, it must have been terrible and shocking. She knew him all his life, he played with her kids, she must have wondered, like all of us, how could I not have known? why didn't I see?
He shot himself in the head with a gun taken from an unlocked safe in a office. There was a note, a passed-in-class note, in which he and an unidentified friend wrote. One of the things he wrote was about shooting himself at the edge of the canyon and rolling down the steep slope, how peaceful it might be. The friend never said anything, obviously thought he was just talking, wasn't serious. So much guilt, so many unanswered questions.
There were signs, of course there were signs!, but no one was really paying attention, including me. I spoke with him on the phone a couple of weeks before, and he didn't want to talk to me. Had to be pestered to tell me he loved me, so unlike him. I should have known then that there was something wrong, I just thought he was being a moody teenager.
Fifteen years ago, that's quite a while in human terms. Time passes, life goes on, as they say. And I hope he's a part of something larger now; the wind and the grass, the earth and the rain, the dark sky and the shimmering stars that were his only witnesses that lost, lonely night.

More Movie Mash-Ups!

2010-10-04T17:59:00.000-07:00

This is a bit ridiculous, but my highly-associative brain just kept churning these out. So far, I have a hundred and twenty! There's just too many to post at once, so I think I'm going to start Monday Movie Mash-Ups! And we'll see how many weeks I can keep it going. Here's a taste, you know you want more....

A female writer searches for herself around the world while Aussie students led by Francis O'Connor discuss life, love and films, and attempt to finish college.
A spaceship piloted by Rahda Mitchell crash lands on a freaky planet only to discover an angry black man trying to reform a wild young thing by chaining her to a radiator.
In a Star Trek parody, Tim Allen and his crew of T.V. has-beens help real live aliens and Neanderthal man fight their intergalactic enemies and search for a source of light and heat.
Three blonde sisters deal with their curmudgeonly father, while a crew of Navy misfits has to prove that they aren't losers by beating other submariners at their own game, with riotous results.
In this French film, Johnny Depp's baby-mama unexpectedly takes up with a knife thrower, and Japanese POW's resist and resist, but end up having to build the damn thing anyway.

That's all for now. Enjoy! And check back next week...

Movie Mash-Ups

2010-09-29T07:11:00.000-07:00

Okay, big thanks to Cat for the inspiration, but I'm afraid my head is going to be whirling with these for a while. For now, I'll give you the best I've come up with.

Johnny Depp befriends a boy who's mother is dying, writes a children's classic and helps a group of little lost dinosaurs reunite with their families.
A little girl discovers a belief in Santa Claus thanks to a large department store and Keanu Reeves, the only good cop in all of Los Angeles.
Four friends go for a bachelor party in Vegas, only to lose the their memories and the groom, and discover Sylvester Stallone arm-wrestling.
Brittany Murphy follows her boyfriend to Japan, where he dumps her. She learns to cook while Angelina Jolie spends time with Winona Ryder in the loony bin.
Queen Latifah changes Steve Martin's life forever as an unwelcome guest, as unwelcome as the dead bodies in Rob Zombie's timeless masterpiece.
George Clooney flies around the country firing people while Brendan Fraser, Steve Buscemi and Adam Sandler hold a radio station hostage until their demo tape is played.

That's all for now. Leave me comments if you can't figure out the answers, although IMDb is wonderfully helpful.

The Slant of the Light

2010-09-25T17:31:00.000-07:00

It's a gorgeous Alaskan fall day, one of the few we're likely to have, and yet I'm sitting inside, blogging. Which isn't a bad thing, just a waste of nice weather.
I've got a bit of a case of the fall dreads, which I think are made exponentially worse by the prospect of an Alaskan winter. Thinking about things like splitting wood, winterizing the truck, and how much plowing will cost aren't particularly fun and leave me with a chill in the pit of my stomach. Dealing with real-life issues isn't my forte, and they all cost money. Last winter was pretty mild, too much to hope that this winter will be the same.
NSA is in Colorado, and I could go down there too, and stay the winter. But the idea of living around his family is daunting, to put it mildly, and horrifying, to put it realistically.
The sun is never really high over head in Alaska, not like it is in say, Nevada, or New York, or even Wisconsin. But this time of year, the angle of the light becomes even steeper, the slant sharper, the sunshine is pale and washed out, and the threat of cold and dark and death is heavy around you.

Here and There

2010-09-13T16:29:00.000-07:00

I don't know what's going on with me lately. NSA is in Colorado with his family, who he really doesn't like very much, but his mom and dad are old, and his dad is undergoing radiation treatments for prostate cancer, so best to visit while he can and before things get veryvery bad. I miss him and I'm glad he's gone at the same time.
I have nine, NINE!, blog postings in draft, but I can't seem to finish any of them. I'm having a hard time focusing and seeing anything through to completion.
I want to redesign my blog, there are some cool new templates out there, but (see above.)
September and October are bad months for me, and as as result, I think I'm especially edgy and fretful. Maybe medication is a good idea. But then there's that stupid Newsweek article about the inefficacy of antidepressants, and so I think, why bother?
Sometimes I stumble across music that I really like, but isn't very helpful, mood-wise. Blue October's "Into the Ocean" is just such a song.
I feel like I've been walking in a fog bank for the past couple of years. Sometimes it's very slow going and I have to feel my way along, and sometimes the sun shines through and I think everything will be okay, but what I really need is for the fog to lift.

Having A Bawl

2010-06-23T05:43:00.000-07:00

I miss good Chinese food. I miss warm nights. I miss Fatburger. I miss reallyreally good thrift store shopping. I miss long drives with my husband. And I MISS my fucking mom, who got me into this mess in the first place.

Freeform Friday: Cat World

2010-04-23T13:23:00.000-07:00

(Don't you just LOVE alliteration?)

Cat World

In the eternal babyhood of cat world,
Where food is Love,
and attention is Love,
and affection is Love,
And milk flows like water
from the magic carton breast

Things I Want Thursday

2010-04-08T17:55:00.000-07:00

Taking a cue from Sass, a Things I Want Thursday:

A dump truck; the bigger, the better.
Six well-trained cleaners with rubber gloves, masks, and strong stomachs.
250 gallons of Febreze.
1500 heavy-duty plastic trash bags. I hope that would be enough.
Four tons of gravel, delivered.
A pair of Skechers Shape-Ups, size 7 1/2, since my current job is pretty active and I might as well work on my ass while I work.

All of these (except the last) relate to my mother's house and the difficulty I'm having cleaning it out. The sorting through shit, sometimes literallly, gets to me and I just feel like torching the whole place. Except that I still haven't found my grandmother's ring, which Mom assured me was in there, somewhere. *sigh*

A Few Things I've Recently Learned About Myself

2010-02-19T00:18:00.000-08:00

I know, I know, it's always me,me,me, but it is my blog, and recipes, cute baby pics and directions on how to knit your cat a sweater can be found elsewhere. So.

Most of the time, I feel like a wide-eyed innocent. Except when I feel like a cynical bitch.
New music gives me a tremendous boost. Lately, it's been young female singer-songwriters, namely Regina Spektor, Feist, and Yael Naim. NSA likes to listen to ALOT of the same old shit, which gets b-o-r-i-n-g.
I enjoy splitting wood. No, that's not some clever sexual innuendo, I've found I like hefting an axe over my head and slamming the blade into a solid piece of spruce. Very cathartic, and empowering, and other words that get waaaay overused.
While NSA finds having three bodies buried close by somewhat disturbing, I feel comforted having most of my family members right there.

That's about it for now. I do plan on posting on a more regular basis, but the best laid plans, as they say.

It's RAINING!

2010-02-12T21:07:00.000-08:00

Ok, a counterpoint to the global warming deniers out there, who point to the huge-ass snow dump on Washington, D. C. as evidence that the atmosphere is indeed not warming; it's 36 degrees and raining here currently. In ALASKA! In FEBRUARY! Do I have to point out just how fucking weird that is?? This winter has been so mild that the pavement is bare in a lot of places, when it might reasonably be expected to be coated in two inches of ice. I think that the studded tires on my truck are doing more harm than good. It's WEIRD, people, and rather worrisome. Not that I'm not enjoying it, because this kind of weather is more suited to the end of March, and it's probably saved my marriage (for now, at least), but warm and dry AREN'T Alaska. And I like polar bears, and wild salmon, even permafrost has it's advantages. If I want warm and dry, I'll move back to California.

Christmas!

2009-12-25T06:17:00.000-08:00

First of all, to those loyal few who still read my nearly non-existant blog, Thank You! And merry, merry Christmas, if that's your persuasion. As an agnostic/paganistic/non-churchgoing person, I like holidays, just not because of some belief in a savior that was probably born in the spring anyway. Having said that, a few of my favorite Yuletide carols:

Santa Baby- performed by Eartha Kitt. Sexy, sultry and a little bit greedy, what's not to love?-
Santa Claus is Coming to Town- performed by Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band. Fun, funny and lighthearted.
Oh Holy Night- performed by Johnny Mathis. A classic and such a beautiful, pure voice. Mom loved Johnny.
You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch- performed by Thurl Ravenscroft. I love the original animated Grinch, and Thurl Ravenscroft (also the voice of Tony the Tiger) delivers it perfectly.
The Little Drummer Boy- performed by Bing Crosby and David Bowie. Such a wonderfully surreal moment, like a Christmas tree decorated by Andy Warhol.
All I Want For Christmas is My Two Front Teeth- performed by the Count from Sesame Street. I listened to this when I was little and it still puts a smile on my face.
Christmas Eve/Sarajevo 12/24- Trans-Siberian Orchestra. I think this is a version of Carol of the Bells, and it is just so damn cool.
Father Christmas- by the Kinks. Tough and funny, I love the street-wise sentiments.

In Which I Discover I Have Something In Common With Vanna White?!?

2009-11-30T23:29:00.000-08:00

So I heard the end of "Wheel of Fortune" the other night while NSA was flipping channels, and for some reason he got distracted and paused on the show for a bit. It was that lag time at the end of the show when Pat and Vanna are chatting. I don't know how it came up, but Vanna was saying how she uses a manual toothbrush in the morning, but her electric toothbrush before bed. And Pat commented that that was kind of a strange thing, and I had to agree, but what got me the most was that I do the exact same thing!

Upside & Down

2009-06-22T20:20:00.000-07:00

A few comments on unemployed cabin life:

Upside- Free rent! Down- Bills still have to be paid, which gets tricky with no income.
Upside- Wildlife ALL over the place. Down- NSA had the shit scared out of him by a baby bull moose.
Upside- Summer in Alaska. Down- The days get shorter from here on.
Upside- Quiet and private. Down- Except when Mom's "colorful" friends decide to drop by unannounced.
Upside- Freedom. Down- Without structure, I'm kind of falling on my face.

La Vida Rustica

2009-06-17T23:00:00.000-07:00

The cabin that Dave built.

This is my current home, a 10X18 cabin with no running water, BUT, thanks to the wireless marvels of the modern age, I do enjoy access to the World Wide Web. Kinda freaky, huh?

Jezebel enjoying the view from the front window.

The three kitties have adapted remarkably well to the rustic life, despite the lack of comfortable armchairs. As long as there's wet food and a clean box, they're happy. I wish I were as easily satisfied.

Ms. Moose browsing in front of the same window.

A Timeline of the Events of the Beginning of May, 2009

2009-06-07T16:20:00.000-07:00

April 29th- A last-minute dash to the airport with three cats and waaay too much luggage, but all of us made it to Alaska okay, if uncomfortably. (sidenote- Yin Yin reacted to the Xanax preflight test like a belligerent little drunk, staggering around and hissing at the other cats, it did NOT calm her down at all. And, not that I recommend drugging your animals for amusement purposes, but it was VERY funny to watch.)
April 30th-May 3rd- Unseasonably gorgeous weather in Anchorage at a pet-friendly hotel, we celebrate a friend's birthday at a questionable club, shop for camping supplies and other summer essentials, and hang out with NSA's son. Hectic and more expensive than I would have wished, but a reasonably good time.
May 4th- A friend drives us down to Homer in a mini-van packed to the roof, we find a hotel room, smuggle the cats in. NSA's asthma is bothering him, probably due to the very fine ash from Mt. Redoubt and the very dry spring that hasn't kept it down. And the stress of moving, travel, etc.
May 5th- Friend and I pick up a few missed items while NSA relaxes at the hotel room. After a couple of frantic texts, we return to the room to find NSA drenched in sweat, his breathing intensely labored, and having already called 911, who take an excruciatingly long time to arrive. Ride in the ambulance, which pulls over on the way to the hospital to let the paramedics work on NSA, who is semi-lucid but completely frantic.
May 6th- A horrible, horrible night during which NSA has to be put into an induced coma and intubated because he's combative and not responding well to the drugs. I have the unenviable experience of seeing my forty-five year old husband on a ventilator in the ICU.
May 7th- It rains, washing away some of the volcanic ash.
May 8th- I learn a new word, "extubated," the opposite of having a tube stuck down your throat. NSA is loopy and out of it from all of the drugs he's on, but in a relatively good mood since he has a constant supply of IV painkillers. We watch Casanova and I can't help but think of Heath Ledger, while NSA finds it particularly enjoyable in his altered state because of the bright colors and broad humor. He alternately calls me by his ex-wife's or sister's names. He's smiley and fun, and charms the nurses.
May 9th- 13th- We get an inexpensive hotel room in town that doesn't care that we have cats to give NSA time to build up his strength.
May 14th- After chinese food and making love, NSA has an evil, evil pain in his groin. When he wakes me up writhing around, I insist we call the paramedics. He's resistant, but eventually gives in. And so back to the hospital we go. In the ER, they're surprised to see him again, but won't give him anything for the pain until he starts vomiting blood.
May 15th- After determining that the stone in his right kidney moved, NSA is released from the hospital again, worried about the expense of everything and how much insurance will cover. I'm understandably upset and feeling overwhelmed.
May 16th- NSA passes an 8mm kidney stone, the size of a small pea. It's strangely impressive. We move the three cats and the little bit of stuff we brought with us into the cabin, which is dusty, and either cozy or cramped depending on our moods. The cats adapt remarkably quickly to their new environment, mostly due to the windows and abundant wildilfe to watch.

Two Things That Make Life Without Running Water Slightly More Bearable

2009-05-27T16:20:00.000-07:00

Baby wipes
Hand sanitizer

I Look Like Mardi Gras!

2009-04-27T18:26:00.000-07:00

And I wish that were as fun and sexy as it sounds (boobies!! yay!), but really it just means that my arms and legs are covered in purple, green and yellow bruises. Moving is hard, especially when you approach it in a completely chaotic and fucked-up manner, and my flesh and nerves pay the price. I can never seem to do anything like a sane, rational adult , but at least most of our shit is safely stored. NSA's health is the big worry now, we're supposed to be getting on a plane with the three cats (!!!) Wednesday, but if he has to go to the emergency room, then our plans will naturally have to change. I've never had the best balance, but right now, I think I'd make any tightrope walker proud.
And all of you are just the sweetest things! I'm sporadically checking my stats, and you guys just keep coming back, quick drop-ins to see what's going on even though I haven't posted in weeks. It warms me to the cockles of my heart, and believe me, my cockles need warming. Thank you.

Too Much To Say, No Time To Say It

2009-04-02T17:06:00.000-07:00

I feel like the white rabbit in Alice in Wonderland, "no time to say hellogood-bye..." NSA and I are rolling along with our plans, hitting every freakin' bump along the way. I will be so happy to be out of this job and away from San Diego, but right now I'm so stressed I feel like my brain is going to jellify from the pressure and leak out my ears, (all together now...) ewwww! Not that I'm a constant blogger anyway, but please don't be disappointed if posting is nonexistant over the next few weeks. I will try to keep up with my reading and commenting, I have a lot to say, I'm just not sure I'll find the time to blog it.

Desperately Seeking Dynamo

2009-03-27T12:13:00.000-07:00

So, it's been an eventful couple of weeks, to say the least, and my blogging has suffered for it. Last week, Yin Yin was sick, like reallyreally sick, and although I took her to the vet and he put her on antibiotics, I wasn't trusting him. I know I was being a little crazy and irrational, but the thought of losing Mom's sweet little cat was almost too much for me to bear, I got crumbly around the edges. She's okay now, some expensive intestinal nastiness, but dealing with it seriously did me in for a few days.
A few things came to an ugly head at work. I was quitting anyway, put in my notice Monday, but the shit that went on before that was more than just the final straw, more like the final log- the final fucking Sequoia!- and while I'm not going into details, it was just a huge mess that I shouldn't have had to deal with in the first place, it should never have been allowed to get so out of hand. Knowing that I only have a week left has done me a world of good. And while leaving a decent job with good benefits makes me afraid, especially in this economy, it's also helped me sleep better at night.
All of this to say, we'll be packing boxes and moving very soon, and my inner dynamo seems to have gone missing. She's usually pretty reliable; an energetic, if slightly disorganized being who manages to get things done just before the final deadline. She hasn't shown her frenetic face yet, but then, it's not quite crunch time, and she might need to be bribed with double-lattes and promises of a nice vacation. Or maybe she needs a couple Xenadrine with a Rockstar chaser, she's not gettin' any younger after all.

Reasons I'm Glad I'm Going To Alaska

2009-03-23T12:34:00.000-07:00

Although there are mosquitoes by the ton and Mom's place is infested with mice, no West Nile virus and no Hantavirus.
Clean air and clean water.
Eighteen hours of daylight.
Homegrown potatoes, peas, tomatoes, carrots, cauliflower, gooseberries and raspberries.
People who've loved me almost my entire life.

5 Months and a Dream

2009-03-16T17:04:00.000-07:00

I woke up early this morning with tears in my eyes, dripping on my pillow, not sobbing. I dreamt that I was sitting by Mom's hospital bed, talking with her, and she looked really good, like she did when she vacationed down here. She was smiling and animated, telling me very important things, things I needed to know, and I was paying close attention because I wanted, needed, to remember. I thought, I should be writing this down. And then I woke up.

It was still dark outside, weird for me to be up this early, but clearly my subconscious was at work. NSA was in a bad place of his own, so I sat on the couch with a blanket, waiting for my coffee to brew, watching the minutes tick by, reliving this morning five months ago moment by moment. I didn't remind NSA of what day it is, I don't know if he thought about it, nor did I tell him about my dream. Maybe I'm being selfish, or maybe I'm trying to spare him. It's hard to say.

I know that I'm moving forward, I mean, things progess, time marches on, it can't be stopped just because you need a breather or eight hundred, but I have very little faith in the future. Some days, I feel like I've had the shit kicked out of me, and just as I start to recover from one blow, another lands.

I can't remember what Mom was telling me in the dream, and that's why I was crying. It was important, and I woke up to the real world not remembering.

5 Things I'll Miss About SoCal

2009-03-13T12:22:00.000-07:00

The weather (duh!). I love open-toed and peep-toe shoes. I like cute skirts and bare legs. Sunshine is an instant pick-me-up. So I'm thinking maybe just the summer in Alaska, then somewhere else for winter.
Trader Joe's. Only the best grocery store ever! Unless you want name-brands, but you can get those anywhere. Two-Buck Chuck Merlot, I already mourn for you.
My scooter. I just can't think of a decent, economical way to transport my baby bike, and storing it wouldn't be practical. I'm sure I'll own another one day, but it really stings for now. The ride up Laurel Canyon Blvd. is one of the best things about L.A.
Chipotle. I love their food so much, I'm looking in to opening an Alaskan franchise. Seriously.
Hummingbirds. These cool little creatures abound around here, I see them all the time. I just don't remember them being very plentiful in Alaska.

I'm looking forward to moving, but change is scary, and while I haven't been exactly happy in Southern California (at least not in a while), I did have some really good times here.

IMHO

2009-03-09T12:12:00.000-07:00

I think that our next national holiday should be the Monday after Daylight Savings Time begins. It only makes sense. Today, everyone who works a regular job (those of us lucky enough to still have jobs) is groggy and crabby, school kids are cranky, because even if you went to bed early Sunday night, it doesn't seem to help. Also, this is the longest stretch in the calendar (from the middle of February until the end of May) without a holiday, and I think that needs to be rectified. Easter doesn't count because it's always on a Sunday and there's no paid day off. I mean, I doubt anything of consequence is being accomplished today, and frankly, those hypermotivated people that are accomplishing things, probably would be regardless of it being a holiday or not.
Maybe we should call it "National Sleep-In Day," to honor the chronically sleep-deprived (read: most of us), or "Spring Fertility Rites Day" since pagans really don't have a holiday of their own and it only seems fair. I dunno, I'm just spitballing here, but I'm sure everyone will agree, the wait for Memorial Day is just too damned long.

Chimay & Sushi

2009-03-07T23:34:00.000-08:00

Just what I needed this Saturday night, a fantastic sushi roll and a couple of pints of 8% alcohol beer. Then more leftover birthday cake...If you don't hear from me by Tuesday, I've probably died in some horrible, vomit-related accident. Happy weekend everyone!

Random Bits III

2009-03-07T08:45:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, there was a woman in front of me in the checkout lane at the grocery store with flaming red/orange hair and a purple corduroy pantsuit. Maybe if the suit had been a little lighter, or her hair a little darker, it could have worked, but as it was, I felt like my eyeballs had been scalded.

I've been feeling very judge-y lately (see above), and I'm not sure why. Maybe it's my insecurities about leaving the job, or maybe it's just my latent bitchiness finally rearing it's ugly head. Or maybe it's the fact that people like Nadya Suleman get under my skin and make me all red and itchy. I think that must be it: I have an allergy to media whores. Definitely explains my reaction to Paris Hilton.

I recently discovered Darrell Lea's Green Apple Licorice on sale at the local drugstore. It's not licorice in the true sense of the word, more like a better version of Twizzlers, but damn! it's yummy. And all-natural too.

Is anyone else bothered by the fact that grocery stores are tracking how we spend our dollars so precisely? I mean, I know that's the deal when you sign up for those discount cards, and I don't see how the information that I (well, my cats) prefer Friskies to 9 Lives or that I buy insane amount of rotisserie chicken, can be misused, but I still find it a little creepy. I do love the coupons specifically tailored to I want though.

Tranquilly On Pins and Needles

2009-03-06T15:33:00.000-08:00

Today, I'm envisioning myself as one of those Indian yogis. You know the ones, lying comfortably on a bed of nails, skin exposed to the sharp points while they doze unconcernedly. I've been worried about my job, in one way or another, for months now, and have actually written my letter of resignation several times. Now, mostly because of the economy, there is more pressure being applied than ever, headache-inducing, stomach-churning pressure. But pretty soon, all of that is going away, as in, it will no longer be my worry, no longer be my stomach churning and my head aching. At least, not from this job. There are plenty of other things for me to worry about, lots of varied concerns, but this job will no longer wake me up at night.
I'm feeling a little heady, a little buzzed by the thought of freedom, because while leaving this job, this particular form of security, is a bit frightening, the prospect of having more control over my time and not working for people I've come to dislike is rather intoxicating. I've realized a few things about myself over the past couple of years, one of them is that I can eat a tremendous amount of shit if I need to (which I'm not sure is a good thing), and that I really perform better when I like who I'm working for.
So, for the next few weeks, I'm on pins and needles, biding my time, but tranquilly, because I know it will be over soon. And I think what's coming next will be a great adventure.

I'm Probably Insane For Even Considering This

2009-03-03T17:43:00.000-08:00

I'm seriously thinking about buying a big-ass tent, a decent heater, and a chemical toilet, and camping out on Mom's property for the summer. In Alaska. With three cats. And a shotgun, most likely, in case of bears. Yeah, plenty of reasons to question my rationality right there. For those of you who've been following along (and for those of you who haven't), let me explain: We were planning on moving to Colorado this spring. NSA's family is there, it's a beautiful place, and we have no real ties to Southern California. BUT, since my mom died, I've been in a strange and funky place (and I don't mean that in a Lipps, Inc. kind of way), and her property needs a LOT of attention before it can either be occupied or sold. Cleaning out the house itself is probably at least a two month project. There's also a travel trailer, two sheds, and an old school bus full of crap as well. Jesus, just writing that comes across so hillbilly/white trash, I feel like I should be pregnant and barefoot in the Appalachians somewhere.
NSA and I have been considering moving back to Alaska and renting an apartment, but both of us really don't want to have to spend the winter there, shipping all of our stuff is expensive, and neither of us want to feel trapped by decisions Mom made. So what's the compromise? What can we live with? Well, NSA is the disabled one, so if he feels that he can spend a few months in a tent, then I can too. If we get Mom's place into a habitable state, then good, we won't be stuck in a lease. And if the house isn't decent by the end of summer, then at least most of the trash will be removed and it will be in better condition to board up and leave for the following winter. Storing the bulk of our stuff is definitely less expensive than shipping it, and it leaves the option of moving to Colorado (or somewhere else) open.
I realize that for some, spending a summer in a tent in Alaska sounds a little bit like Hell on earth, while for others, it's a dream vacation. I know quite a few people who've done it, even in the winter, while building a house, working in fish processing, doing wildlife research. Not having to pay rent would mean that we could live on a reduced income, and in this age of cell phones and wireless broadband, of movies and T.V. shows delivered directly to your computer, it could actually be pretty comfortable. Or it could be a horribly bad idea that ends tragically with my face being eaten by a bear. I guess we'll just have to see.

Three 80's Songs and Their Specific Meaning To Me

2009-02-24T13:01:00.000-08:00

I'm dedicating this post to Lisa, because I've been reading through her archives and she's brought up some very good memories that I don't want to forget to share. Because that's what ends up happening. I have really, really good ideas for a post, and if I don't write them down, they disappear forever, or sometimes resurface when that part of my brain gets jarred. Anyway, a few music-related memories.

Relax- Frankie Goes To Hollywood- I first heard this overtly naughty, incredibly danceable song at a campground in Masseret, France. We spent part of the summer there, and I befriended several girls around my age. I loved feeling exotic simply because I was American. On one of our last evenings, a DJ in a van showed up and parked next to the covered picnic area. I don't remember what else he played that night, but I remember the group of us dancing to this song, the horrible fluorescent lighting above the ugly concrete, and having the prescient/poignant feeling that this was a moment I'd remember always. And it is.
Here Comes The Rain Again- The Eurythmics- I was standing by the bar of Bob's Youth Hostel in Amsterdam when the woman behind the counter put this song on. I was absolutely mesmerized. I begged her to play it again, and she said she would later, then never did. I made sure I got the band's name, and when we got back to the States, I bought Touch, on vinyl.
Wouldn't It Be Good- Nik Kershaw- A Danish girl named Marina played this for me in her bedroom. We were visiting a boyfriend of Mom's in the country outside of Dragor, Denmark. Marina was stunned that I hadn't heard it before, but I explained that Alaska was pretty remote, isolated from just about everything. She wanted to visit Alaska, but, to my knowledge, never did. I couldn't find any Nik Kershaw at the local record shop, but I was thrilled a couple of years later when Pretty In Pink came out, and bought the soundtrack specifically for this song.

Totally Uninterested

2009-02-20T12:34:00.000-08:00

Since I'm not going to be at this job a whole lot longer, (yay! yay! YAY! balloons and streamers! flowers and rainbows!! champagne and cake...you get the idea) I've become a really horrible fuck-off. Like I wasn't working very hard before, but now, I'm totally doing bare minimum. My blog reading has increased substantially. There are just so many amazing blogs out there, so much fascinating stuff and fascinating people, is there a job where I can just sit around and read blogs all day? How do I go about creating such a job? But then, that wouldn't work either, since it would be my job, and inevitably I'd get bored, and my eyes would hurt from reading so much, and I'd want to be outside lounging in the sun or something. That's the trouble with me having a job, I really dislike the obligation of it: be here at this time, go there and do that, this must be accomplished by then. And there's the unending nature of it too; I have to do this for HOW long? For most of my life? Until I die?? Bleah, just thinking about it makes me shudder. I don't think other people necessarily feel this way, or maybe they do and they're just better able to discipline themselves and deal with the reality of it.
I'm of the opinion that life is short, death is long, and there's no guarantee of an afterlife, so you'd better make the most of whatever time you have on this planet. In someone's famous words, "No one says, on their deathbed, 'I wish I'd spent more time at work.'" and I couldn't agree more. I'm almost thirty-eight, I have a disabled spouse who will probably have a shorter-than-average lifespan, I need to start making the most of the time we have. And working a stressful, restrictive, dead-end job just isn't worth it. So, thankfuckinggod it's Friday, and stay tuned for further developments.

An Accurate Representation of My Current State of Mind

2009-02-17T15:21:00.000-08:00

I'm sitting on the office floor, picking all my favorites out of the candy dish, because that's the frame of mind I'm in. Wanting massive amounts of what's not good for me, and feeling selfish enough to take it. I've put on a few pounds lately, and I don't wonder why. At least this decision is easy to make, unlike the next few months of uncertainty I'm facing. Sometimes, I find I need the littlest act of control to keep me from going completely batshit.

Miss Manners Says...

2009-02-14T17:31:00.000-08:00

Now, maybe I'm being overly sensitive, but, if you were a guest in someone's home and woke up earlier than them, would you start up their computer? Especially when you already have your own laptop and internet access. I mean, I personally wouldn't presume to use someone else's expensive thing without asking, and once I did have their permission, I certainly wouldn't start rearranging stuff and adding to their toolbar. It's just rude, in my opinion, and I wonder what the fuck they were doing with my computer that they didn't want to do with their's, but that's just me.

Today is Fucking With Me

2009-02-13T17:43:00.000-08:00

I'm thisclose to putting in my two weeks notice and getting the fuck out of this job, but the timing isn't quite right, another week or so and I AM OUTTA HERE! (Don't want to have to head to Alaska too early, that place is cold.) But, although I'm not superstitious, I could swear that Friday the 13th is totally fucking with me. Not in huge ways, but just petty little annoying shit. Like my work email has been screwed up for most of the day, and it's just me. No one else in the company is having any problems. And Wordpress keeps screwing up as I'm trying to read a couple of my favorite blogs, Miss Pants, who has a heartbreaking announcement, and Amy, who seems to be saying something interesting about her sobriety, but I can't read all of it!! AAARRGGhhh! And I can't leave any (kind/supportive/witty/sarcastic) comments either, which, for a blog-junkie like me, is tantamount to hiding my chocolate chip cookies and then teasing me about it.
Historically, Friday the 13th has been a good day for me. This one, though, is giving me flashbacks to 2008.

Complaint #37,184

2009-02-10T18:54:00.000-08:00

It seems like my favorite T.V. shows inevitably get cancelled. Yeah, yeah, I know, totally first-world problem, and while there is so much else I could be thinking or blogging about, this has been on my mind. Because I reallyreally liked Pushing Daisies, it was sweet and whimsical with touches of black humor, and the visual style was bold and unique, probably more akin to children's programming than shows aimed at a higher age demographic (and I wonder what that says about me...). It wasn't all great, the circus episode was stoo-pid, but there are lines that I will be quoting for years to come. Chi McBride, as the acerbic P.I., Emerson Cod- (patting pockets) "Now, where's that rat's ass I could give?"
And it's not just Pushing Daisies, it's it's like, you know..., and Undeclared, and Significant Others. It's Titus, Dead Like Me, and The Comeback. It's that my tastes often don't seem to match those of the general public, which probably isn't a bad thing, but does get disappointing. Disappointing because crap like Survivor is a huge hit and goes on for years and years, while Firefly lasts a mere fifteen episodes. Oh well, I can always take refuge in the endless syndication of Law & Order.

The Flavors of My Childhood

2009-02-09T17:55:00.000-08:00

Raspberry- They grow all over the place. When I was in Alaska last September, I spent a significant amount of time stuffing myself from roadside patches and hoping I wasn't feasting on someone's unharvested bounty.
Verner's Ginger Ale- "Barrel Aged, Bold Taste. A Michigan Tradition Since 1888." Mom grew up in Michigan and this stuff used to be hard to find. We'd drink it whenever we visited my gramma in Clawson. Now it's been bought by 7-Up and is available in just about every major supermarket.
Salmon- Alaska has fairly liberal subsistence laws, and we had several friends who set-netted and regularly caught more than they could use. Our freezer was always well stocked with quality fish, a fact I never really appreciated until I moved to the Lower 48 and paid high prices for farmed salmon.
Cranberry-orange relish- Mom was a pretty good cook when she could be bothered. This was her special holiday dish, fresh oranges and cranberries ground together in a meat grinder never used for anything else. While it was always seasoned well, it was never sweet enough for me.
Rum balls- Straight from The Joy of Cooking, dusted with powdered sugar, a holiday treat that did satisfy my sweet tooth.
Fried tofu- Mom would use it in sweet-and-sour, or sometimes just serve plain. The closest approximation I've been able to find is the deep fried tofu triangles appetizer at Sweet Pink Pepper on Santa Monica.

Tagged Again

2009-02-02T12:12:00.000-08:00

I was tagged by Lisa at The Loony Bin for a "six things" meme, which I've done before (or maybe it was seven things? I forget...), but I thought I'd do it again, since if there's one thing I love to talk about, it's myself.

I once spent a rainy day in Paris watching classic American movies. They were Forever Amber, River of No Return, Laura and Carmen Jones. Now that I look at this list, I realize it was an Otto Preminger tribute. It was kind of a surreal experience, Mom and Edward and I camped out in a gold velour theater. Mom left once to get sandwiches, but no one kicked us out, so we stayed.
People who repeatedly flog you with how cool they are because of their taste in music, irritate the shit out of me! If you like it, you like it, fine, but being an alterna-snob is still being a snob. Sure, I like some strange/funky stuff too, but I can also sing every word to Tiffany's 1987 hit, "I Think We're Alone Now," a feat that weirdly impresses my husband.
The best concert I ever attended was Prince at Studio 54 in Las Vegas, 1999. The tickets were spendy, but standing twenty feet away while His Purpleness played "Purple Rain" was fucking orgasmic.
I prefer standard transmission cars to automatics.
Although we travelled quite a bit while I was growing up, I've never been to New York City. It was always too expensive and crowded for Mom's taste, even though there are fantastic museums and the Statue of Liberty.
I've always wondered if I have other half-siblings somewhere, but I've never had the courage to ask my dad. If I did ask him, though, I think he would be honest.

I know this is breaking the rules, I don't feel like tagging anyone else right now, maybe at a later date.

Celebrity Encounters I

2009-01-29T07:06:00.000-08:00

Nicky Katt- Staying at the Avalon in Beverly Hills with his dog. He was fine until he tried to bring the dog into the restaurant. When the manager politely told him that only service animals were allowed on the premises, Nicky got all, "Don't you know who I am???" at which point the manager said, "I don't care who you are, you can't bring your dog in here." Which is what happens when C-list actors with overgrown egos try and (unsuccessfully) cop celebrity 'tude.
Ron Perlman- Used to work out at the same gym as him. He always wiped down his equipment, and he is built. Worked up to a smile and a friendly "hello," but always felt fluttery because before he was Hellboy, he was Vincent, the lion/human hybrid with that voice, from Beauty and the Beast. The stuff of my teenage romantic fantasies. Maybe it would be gratifying for him to know that he weakens the knees of at least one thirtysomething woman, and not all of his fans are comic book geeks.
Alecia Silverstone- Looking rather strung-out one Sunday morning at the Hollywood Farmer's Market. Which is a great place for celebrity-spotting, btw. Also seen there:
Sandra Oh- Head down and walking very fast, possibly escaping.
Mena Suvari- Stunning in a gorgeous red dress, with her surprisingly short, but very cute, husband. Appeared very gracious while posing for pictures and signing autographs.
John Salley- of the L.A. Lakers, head and shoulders above the crowd, but still smiling while surrounded by people. I wouldn't have recognized him except for his very funny appearance on Martin Short's Jiminy Glick.

Hmmm, maybe I should have saved this for abdpbt's "Listlessness Mondays." Oh well, there's always more to tell.

Oh, The POWER!

2009-01-28T17:03:00.000-08:00

I needed to talk to this person today, so I went over to her, only to be totally ignored initially, and then when she did acknowledge me, she was completely nervous, stammering, and made an excuse to get away very quickly. She would not make eye contact! I was a bit nonplussed. My first thought was could she have read my blog?, but I don't think that's the case. I mean, I'm not scary, I'm not Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada, I'm a rainbows-and-fluffy-bunnies kind of person, but obviously she's picked up on how I feel, and I find that kind of thrilling. Wow, so this is how it feels to have someone afraid of you, or at least to make them really, really uncomfortable with your mere presence. I can see why Anakin went over to the dark side if this is the kind of reaction you get.

So I did what any normal person would do, I smiled and was extra-super-sweet to her. Because sugar helps the poison go down that much easier.

A Home of Our Own

2009-01-28T12:34:00.000-08:00

I've said before, when Mom died, she left a huge mess behind. And, actually, a reluctance to deal with this mess might be part of why she died. But that's a sort of pop-psychology, avoidance issue thing that I may or may not write about later. In any case, due to an unpaid loan situation, I thought my mom had lost the rights to her land and house, and was only living there because no one wanted to kick a poor old lady out, which could have happened. I was also wicked disappointed because the monies owed were less than 10% of the value of the land, a pretty raw deal. As it turns out, I was wrong, and I am so happy about that.
There is a bit of money owed, a debt to an acquaintance of Mom's who paid property taxes for her, but I have the opportunity to pay off the debt and keep the land where Mom, my little brother Edward, and my grandmother are buried. So that's a very good thing. I've never owned anything worth that much either. To find myself a homeowner, even due to such unhappy circumstances, is rather exciting.
It's not much of a place, 2 1/4 acres of boggy land and an unfinished house with no water or plumbing, jury-rigged electricity and a wood stove for heat. And no driveway to speak of. And twenty-five years worth of hoarded junk, vermin, and cat shit, that makes the place basically uninhabitable. But the structure itself is fairly sound, it has lots of windows and there's a large garden and raspberry patch. So, yes, I have my work cut out for me, not completely sure I'm equal to the task, but hey, gotta give it a try and see what happens. And if I sound deeply ambiguous, it's because I am.

Suppressing Urges

2009-01-27T17:55:00.000-08:00

So, yeah, I think my days at this job are seriously numbered since I'm having a harder and harder time not telling that obnoxious little twat-faced bitch exactly what I think of her. I am so totally FUCKING over it!!!

January 23, 1939

2009-01-25T15:36:00.000-08:00

My mother would have been 70 last Friday. This knowledge nibbled at my consciousness all week. I got a couple of calls from her friends, one of whom has a key to her house and called me from there, so when I looked at my cell to see who it was, it came up "Mom," since I haven't deleted her number. It was a sweet gesture, but kind of creepy too. It's nice to see how missed Mom is, but it also makes me wonder why she didn't want to stick around longer. There are so many people who loved her. Of course, some of these are the same people who fully supported her in not treating her cancer, so I guess it cuts both ways.
NSA and I are probably going to Alaska this summer, to take care of some things that really can't be handled remotely. I'm not sure how long we'll be there, but long enough that I'll most likely have to leave this job, which is perfectly fine with me. I think I'm overdue for a career change.

Soundtrack To My Mother's Death

2009-01-16T17:55:00.000-08:00

King of the Road, Roger Miller- This was on the radio the first morning I was back to visit, and we also watched Talladega Nights while I was there. Mom smiled at a few spots in the movie, she really liked goofball comedies, but I don't think she was in a place to enjoy it much.
Ever Present Past, Paul McCartney- Flying up, I couldn't stop listening to this on my MP3 player. I just kept scrolling back and listening again and again, something I don't think I've done since I was a teenager. Mom saw the Beatles when they appeared on Ed Sullivan, and the lyrics, about how time goes by so fast, were just so apropos.
Exodus & Redemption Song, Bob Marley- Mom completely adored reggae, particularly Bob Marley and Peter Tosh, and these two songs were among her favorites.
Starry-eyed Surprise, Shifty- The only "rap" song Mom liked. During her last visit to So Cal, she asked me to turn it up when it came on the radio.
Morning Has Broken, Cat Stevens- A modern hymn that Mom never tired of.
Fandango Nights, Willie and Lobo- The local radio station played this as background music and Mom was so enamored that she called one of the managers, a friend of hers, who burned a copy and brought it to the hospital for her. We listened to the Puerto Vallarta Squeeze album a lot in the days that followed.
Fix You, Coldplay- I'd heard the song before, but it was only after Mom and I watched Young at Heart together that it really made an impact on me. The soaring crescendo near the end followed by the lone, spare voice moves me to tears.
What's Going On, Four Non-Blondes- Another song my mom liked. A friend performed a rough but lovely version of it at her memorial.
Let Peace Begin With Me, Sy Miller and Jill Jackson- My mom's truest wish for the world, and she really did think it began with her.
Dark Side of the Moon, Pink Floyd- The quintessential psychedelic hippie song. She loved the spoken line close to the end of the song, "There is no dark side of the moon, it's all dark."

Three months ago today, and while things soften with time, it still hurts.

Hmmm...

2009-01-15T12:34:00.000-08:00

So I post about how I need more community in my life, and this postcard shows up in my mailbox. There's no artist credit, and it's for a local church that I'm not at all interested in attending, but I like the image. It looks constructed from three or four different sources, with some cool effects added. Whoever did it has a decent amount of talent and flair, maybe they put it together as a form of tithing. I think the choice of the fence is interesting, a bit exclusive or exclusionary, maybe not exactly what they're trying to convey.
I do think the universe sends messages, I don't know, maybe I should attend some Sunday, or maybe it's just a general kind of attraction thing, I'm thinking about community, so are many other people, and the thought is out there in the ether, waiting to drop in to my mailbox.

Help Me Decide

2009-01-12T15:33:00.000-08:00

Ok, so fairly lighthearted and pretty trivial in all actuality, but I need some help with my ballot for the Screen Actor's Guild awards. See, I haven't seen any of the nominated movies (really!), that's how lame last year was, and while I only watch a few of the TV shows, my favorites will be getting my vote. So, go here if you'd like to see the nominees, and tell me who you would vote for and why. If I like your response, I might vote that way. Be a part of the SAG awards!! Influence history!! If only in the tiniest, most insignificant way. Have your responses in by the end of the week, since the ballots have to be received by January 23rd.
(I will say that the people promoting Heath Ledger and The Dark Knight sent me a free DVD screener, so that might influence me too, but only maybe, since I haven't watched it yet.)

Feeling Strangely Fine

2009-01-10T16:00:00.000-08:00

I don't really know why, except that I think a few things have gelled for me recently. Admittedly, Mom's death hit me hard, harder than expected, but it also clarified some things, as major events are wont to do. And as time passes, the grief and trauma settle a bit, the pain eases, and I'm able to reflect.
I've been worried, to some degree or another, for the past couple of years. Most of the worrys stem from loved one's health issues, but then there's the general never-enough-money worries and the I'm-not-where-I-want-to-be blues also. I'm not usually an anxious person, and the pressure and fretfulness have a corrosive effect on my personality. I'm snappish and mean, emotional, and I don't like it.
Here's what I've realized:

The job I have right now is a bad fit for me. It's not creative, it's more responsibility than I want, and it asks me to behave in ways I find objectionable.
I don't like big city life any more. I get pissy with the lack of privacy, rude people and being too far away from nature. I don't want to live in the boonies, but a smaller place would be better.
I'm tired of feeling poor. Having a disabled spouse contributes to this feeling, but so does the cost of living in a big city. There are definitely less expensive places to live.
I don't do enough to feed my soul, and I think souls need to be fed, regularly. I've abandoned interesting hobbies and am instead becoming a snail.
I've devalued friendship and community in my life. I don't know if this an attitude thing, an introspection thing, or what, but it needs to change. I need it to change.

I'm still working things out, there are lots of difficulties and details that have to be dealt with, but I think 2009 is going to be a good year, maybe the best year of my life. Or maybe it's just the chocolate talking.

Text Messaging and The State of My Relationship

2009-01-06T19:52:00.000-08:00

I'm saving the "I luv u"s and deleting the "Fuck u"s.

Zinc is for lifeguard noses and countertops,

2009-01-01T17:20:00.000-08:00

NOT for lozenges! However, I have this awful little scratchy feeling in the back of my throat, up toward my sinus', and so I'm sucking on these nasty things in the hope that they live up to the hype and prevent, or at least shorten, any viral ickyess I may have picked up. I want to visit my dad this weekend, I haven't seen him in a very long time, and I DON'T WANT TO BE FUCKING SICK!! Bleah.

Pictures of My Cat

2008-12-31T20:44:00.000-08:00

Yeah, that's what I'm reduced to. Not actually, though. I'm thinking about everything everyone else is thinking about (the New Year, resolutions, year-in-review, etc.), I just don't feel like writing about any of it, not right now at least. So I thought I would introduce you to the newest member of the family.

This is Yin Yin. She's adorable, isn't she? She was my mom's cat, one of the two I had to take to the shelter when I was there in September. I felt hideously guilty, especially since her pal, a long-haired Siamese boy, was adopted right away. She basically just hid in that scary environment, so there wasn't much hope of her finding a home. I told myself, and NSA, that if she was still there when I went back, then I was going to bring her with me. And I did, even though we have two cats already and NSA is slightly allergic.

She's a little thing, about five pounds, half the size of my other two. Jezebel and Delilah, big, grey tabbies, are like linebackers compared to Yin Yin's calico/Siamese ballerina. And they're jealous, of course, but they're getting over it since she's pretty inoffensive. They give kitten kisses, and she doesn't, so they've got that, but she is a real cuddler, often in my lap and sleeping on top of me.

We've really bonded. I don't know if it's because I smell similar to Mom, or if it's just because I'm the nice lady who rescued her from the bad place. But she's one good, tiny thing that's come out of the bleak morass of the past few months.

I like the glowy shadow effect the camera gives when she moves around during the low light function.

(teh flash is TOO bright!! it makes me squinchy-eyed.)

Merry Blogiversary To Me

2008-12-25T17:55:00.000-08:00

I can't believe it's been a year already (well, actually, a year and a day, I'm a little behind, as usual), and what a year it's been! A huge amount of heartbreak, sadness, pain, but hope too. I labelled 2007 the worst year of my life, and I think that still holds true (so far). 2008 has been pretty rough, but good has come from the tragedy. I think I've grown up considerably in the last twelve months, pain and loss will do that, though I definitely have more growing to do.
Strangely, I feel like I'm getting back to my old self; the happy, unworried person I used to be. I can't say exactly why this is, except that I'm gaining perspective, and whereas before I was unworried because not a lot of bad things had happened, now I feel I'm unworried because bad things have definitely happened, and I've survived. I've had moments of crushing anxiety, crippling emotional hurt, urges to just give up and run away, and I haven't. I've done the mature thing and tried to deal with my problems in a sane and rational manner. It hasn't been easy, but I'm more honest and straightforward than I ever have been.
This blog has helped a lot. Being able to express myself without self-censoring, without fear of judgement or criticism is fantastically freeing, even if I have to do it in relative anonymity. And there is so much wonderful support out there in the blogosphere, especially from Susan and Anya, Cat and Sass, Lisa and Amy and Miss P. All of your kind words, helpful comments and understanding, help probably more than you will ever know. Thank you.

A Little Something

2008-12-22T18:30:00.000-08:00

I heard this on the radio while I was in Alaska for Mom's funeral. It made me laugh when I really needed it. I don't know who read it, but if it's the author, Jonathan Goldstein, then he sounds a lot like Mo Rocca. Please to enjoy. *bows*
http://www.guiltandpleasure.com/index.php?site=rebootgp&page=gp_article&id=14

Overrated/Underrated

2008-12-22T13:40:00.000-08:00

So, yeah, I think I stole this idea from Miss P., who I'm sure copied it from someone else. Like Shakespeare said, "There is nothing new under the sun." (And how many years ago was that?)

Five Overrated Things:

Jessica Simpson- I personally think she sold her soul to the devil. How else can someone that untalented remain so successful?
Flip-flops- But mostly the people who wear them constantly. Unless you live in Southeast Asia.
Christmas- Seriously, it's fucking crazy how much time and trouble people put in to this holiday. And I prefer personal holidays anyway.
Award shows- Thank God for DVR, because I'd never be able to get through the dreck otherwise. And seeing them live is even worse.
Non-GMO foods- I'll probably catch some shit for this one, but really, people have been genetically modifying stuff since the beginning of agriculture. Crops that freeze at lower temperatures, need less water and resist bugs without pesticides are good things.

Five Underrated Things:

Jennifer Jason Leigh- Wicked smart and super talented. Not conventionally beautiful, and so, underappreciated.
Black beans- Yummy, high in fiber, and go with just about anything.
Good tires- I get terrified every time it rains because so many assholes in Southern California are driving around on bald tires and don't remember what "braking distance" is.
The U.S. Postal Service- If you've tried mailing anything from many foreign countries, you understand.
Silk Soy Nog- Seriously goooood shit with almost none of the bad crap that's in regular egg nog.

Maniacal

2008-12-21T15:21:00.000-08:00

Do you ever have really destructive tendencies? Like, elaborate and well-thought-out revenge fantasies that are frightening in their detail and specificity? Or pitch-black thoughts that make you suddenly realize how Dr. Mengele must have felt? Yeah, me neither.

My Ass Is SORE!!

2008-12-20T17:43:00.000-08:00

And not for any good reason (like horseback riding, you with the duurrty minds!) No, my posterior is tender from the SERIOUS chewing out it got from my boss yesterday. See, this past quarter, my performance has been off, not surprisingly, what with my mom dying and all. So, in the spirit of Christmas, my boss calls me on the carpet to tell me that my job is in danger. This from the same woman who offered support and proffered understanding, but hung me out to dry when it came down to it. What really burns me is that I know of at least two other employees who are having the same problems I am, without the same obstacles. I have consistently been a top performer, so it feels really unfair to bust my chops over three bad months.
I've long suspected that my boss is pretty heartless when it comes down to it. Last summer, a co-worker had a really bad stomach infection, he was in the hospital for a couple of weeks and then out for about another six weeks recovering. The way she treated him when he returned, you'd think he pissed on her grandmother's grave. She treated him like total shit because he got sick. He tried to warn me when I talked about what Mom was going through, but I thought maybe he was exaggerating, I didn't want to think she would be so uncaring. Boy, was I wrong!
In all fairness, I think she's worried about her job too. In these shaky economic times, everyone's feeling the pressure and no one is immune, but her anger and anxiety do nothing to endear her to me. Time to step up the job search, get my exit strategy in place, and be happy that the GFOD (get the fuck outta Dodge) fund is pretty healthy.

In A "P" Mood

2008-12-11T11:04:00.000-08:00

...meaning, pathetic, pitiful and pissy. Also pretty, but pimply too (WHY is my back breaking out? And my neck? I didn't have these problems when I was a teen...) I'm also stressed, but in this case, "put-upon" is a better phrase. I know that even with everything that's gone on this year, I have a lot to be thankful for, there's so much goodness and beauty in the world, but it's hard to see when you feel eaten up by fear and worry. And the holidays remind me of a lot of bad shit; old arguments and dashed hopes and the constant thought that next year will be better. There are good memories too, but right now, my mind bends towards the bad.

It's weird, and hopeful, that while economically, things are tough and people are struggling, I've never seen so many Christmas lights and displays in the neighborhood, a lot more than in years past. And it makes me a little happy, until I think, Oh sure, unemployed people have waaay more time on their hands to do things like decorate.

Happy Thanksgiving!

2008-12-08T14:03:00.000-08:00

So I put these stupid boundaries on my blogging, what I'll write about and when and a certain order to things, and I end up not writing anything at all. Or starting a bunch of posts, but not finishing or publishing them. Which is most definitely not the point of blogging! (When did I start writing in sentence fragments? When did that become acceptable? Mrs. Parsons would be so irritated!)
These past couple of weeks were pretty rough. NSA had a CT scan Tuesday, November 25th, and we had to wait for the results until the following Wednesday. He has a steady pain in his lower left back that could be a lot of things, but one of the possibilities that his gastrointernist, Dr. Valkyrie mentioned, almost casually, was pancreatic cancer. Pancreatic cancer is one of the worst, meaning that by the time you show symptoms, it's pretty much already too late. Average lifespan is like five months from diagnosis to death. And it just so happens that one of my favorite comedians of all time, Bill Hicks, died of it. I was freaking out a little. Okay, a lot, given my recent history, but trying not to show it.
The "cancer answer" was, thankfuckinggod!!, no. (But I did have a post planned titled Excuse Me While I Freak Out For A While, if the answer was yes, because I definitely would have needed a break from blogging.) And a part of me, that strange little detached part, whispered that if NSA did have cancer, that it would be almost unbelievable, that it would stretch the bounds of reality, especially in the blogosphere, to have my mother, my husband, my father-in-law, and my mother-in-law all have cancer in the same year. Who would believe it? So now I have something to celebrate. The "cancer answer" was NO! (Although we still don't know what the pain is...) Happy Thanksgiving!

Right Now

2008-11-26T09:49:00.000-08:00

I'm feeling pissed off and lonely and whiny.
I feel like I have my head so far up my own ass, I might never see daylight again.
I really want to watch What To Do In Case Of Fire, but I'd have to get it from Netflix and I won't be able to see it until probably Monday, at the earliest.
Tomorrow is Thanksgiving and the six-week anniversary of my mother's death. Joy!
I wanna go to Disneyland. I haven't been to an amusement park in years and it's been on my mind a lot lately. I am in dire need of some mindless fun.

In any case, Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

One Month Yesterday

2008-11-17T18:54:00.000-08:00

It's weird how you mark time after a tragedy or significant event, Sunday was one month since my mom died. It doesn't feel like it's been a month, but then also, it does. It's strange because now for me, Thursday is the day she died and Sunday we buried her and Wednesday was her memorial. I know this will fade over time, but it's still so fresh, so present for me, and I'm not dealing with it well. I wasn't unprepared for her death, but I underestimated the impact it would have. I thought I could handle it, I thought my defenses were in place and I was strong, but I'm floundering.
I miss her a lot, much more than I thought I would. I call her cell phone just to listen to her voicemail greeting; I don't want to have it turned off because then even this tiny little part of her will go away too. A friend of hers wrote that Mom was one of her "anchorwomen," someone who kept her grounded, who was always there, and now she's gone. What happens when you lose your anchor? You're adrift, it's hard to stay stable.
I'm suffering because there were things I still wanted to do with her, because I thought there was more she wanted to do. I guess both of us thought we had more time. And I wonder, if she had a grandchild, would she have treated herself better? Sought treatment sooner? Had more of a reason to live? So there's guilt, and anger, and regret. And questions remain, with no answers.

Reasons To Go, Reasons To Stay

2008-11-13T12:13:00.000-08:00

I know you're not supposed to make any important decisions for like, a year after a traumatic event, but NSA and I were considering this one for a quite a while before Mom died, so I'm not sure if that holds true. And I've never been one to just go along with the rules, which is a good and bad thing.

The Pros and Cons of Leaving SoCal and Moving to Colorado:

Living in perpetual summer gets pretty boring.
This job has been getting to me really badly lately,
BUT, it pays well for what I do.
If I quit, there are about 250 things I no longer have to worry about.
If I quit, there are several major things I have to worry about right away. (Like finding a new job.)
Which might be difficult in this economy.
Closer to NSA's family (both a pro and a con.)
Weather/smog conditions better for both of our health in Colorado, but particularly NSA.
Fewer people.
Colorado is now a blue state.
Easier access to green spaces and hiking/biking trails.
Cost of living is less.
Would need a car, which would probably mean
giving up the scooter.
Moving is expensive, time-consuming and stressful.
Winter is not the ideal time to move to Colorado.

I'm torn, but I think that a Spring move to Colorado is probably the best idea, if I can stick it out at this job for another four or five months. So, what do you think? I would really appreciate outside perspectives, particularly from those of you who have lived/are currently living in Colorado. Please share.

Sunday, October 18th, 2008 (part 1)

2008-11-07T16:05:00.000-08:00

Because my mother chose not to be embalmed, the burial had to take place relatively quickly. She was a very organic person, and pragmatic too, so the idea of being pumped full of preservatives and laid to rest in an expensive and otherwise useless container was antithetical to who she was. She had told me about my grandmother's death a couple of times; how she had washed and shrouded Gramma's body, how it was very simple and uncomplicated, not particularly awful or gruesome. And so for my mom, I felt that I could do no less.

I realize that this might be shocking to some, indeed, I think the visceral reaction most people, at least Westerners, have to a dead body is to get away as fast as possible. Certainly not to touch, or even look at, as if the mere sight of a dead person might be deadly. And in these modern times, we have such a sanitized way of dealing with things. The websites I looked up for "When a Loved One Dies" were a little helpful, but there was always a line like, "...and then the funeral director will come for the body." And what if he doesn't?

In the days before modern mortuary services, and in places where those services still don't exist, family and friends took care of dead loved ones. They were cleaned, dressed and laid out in the parlor, the special occasion room, until marketing and science took over, and now we have "living" rooms, and hand our deceased over to qualified strangers. All very clean and sanitized and scientific, and artificial and numbing and unreal. But then, reality is often messy and unpretty, unpleasant to deal with, and so I guess it's easier, although, to my way of thinking, drastically depersonalized.

At least I wasn't alone in my endeavor. Mom was quite popular locally, well known and generally well loved, with a wide circle of devoted friends. Very, very devoted friends, as it turns out. There were logistical things to figure out, things that a funeral home would have handled, like a burial permit, and transporting the body. I had hoped that someone who knew her would have felt moved to build a casket, that was what happened when my little brother died, but not in this case. So a litter was built, and beautiful, purple hemp-blend fabric was offered as a shroud, which my mother would have liked greatly. I found a lovely cloth, again in deep pinks and purples, with a tree of life and ornamental birds on it, maybe intended as a wall hanging or furniture drape, that seemed perfect for covering her.

Since it was Sunday and I hadn't been to church since high school, I attended the Episcopal church my mother had been a member of for decades. (To be continued...)

OMFG!!

2008-11-04T20:15:00.000-08:00

This makes me really, really happy!!!

"It's Alright To Cry,

2008-10-31T15:33:00.000-07:00

crying gets the sad out of you. It's alright to cry, it might make you feel better." From the '70's animated musical Free To Be...You & Me, featuring Marlo Thomas, Mel Brooks and Alan Alda (who my mother completely adored.) A friend of mine had the record and book, so we spent a lot of time singing along. My favorite part was the exchange about gender roles between the baby boy and baby girl when Mel Brooks exclaims, "A cocktail waitress!"
I guess I thought of these lines for the obvious reason, I've been crying a lot lately. This morning I was bawling and called in to work a couple of hours late because it's my fifteenth wedding anniversary, and Halloween, and while I'd like to go out and do something fun, I just don't have the heart. I feel like curling up under the covers with a couple cases of hard liquor and not emerging until I feel better, which might be a while. Right now, I'm thinking vodka, tequila, and maybe a decent Scotch, just for variety.
Of course, I'm still hurting from my mom's death, and the legal/financial mess she left behind. And the problems NSA and I have been having don't help. And the fact that I really dislike my job, but the economy's not doing so well and I'm afraid to quit. Fuck.

1939-2008

2008-10-28T15:33:00.000-07:00

My mom died October 16th at 6:05 am. I found out about three minutes later. I was already awake when the call came, which was a little odd for me. I wasn't shocked, of course, but it's still a hell of a hit. Like when you see it coming, you have time to brace yourself, so maybe it hurts less, but it still hurts. NSA was asleep, so I took a little time before I woke him. I was in a daze for most of the morning, calling people, trying to get ready. My dad really came through for me, buying a plane ticket and making travel arrangements. I'm glad, because I don't think I could have done it myself. I wish NSA had come along, but for his health and general sanity, we decided it would be best if he stayed home and took care of himself and the kitties. The actual flying time from San Diego to Alaska is only about six hours, but with early arrivals and layovers, that stretches into around twelve hours, a long and tiring day.
I left early the next morning. From San Diego to Seattle, passengers were sparse, I had a row of seats to myself. Not so on the flight from Seattle to Anchorage, and while the guy next to me was clearly in a chatty mood, my teary face didn't encourage conversation.
I arrived at my final destination in the late afternoon, took care of some necessary paperwork, and went to see my mother. An old friend of hers was already there, keeping vigil with candles and incense. The morgue is located in the old part of the hospital; a small, locked, unlabeled room containing two horizontal refrigerators, some filing cabinets, and various bits of office equipment. It also allows access to the telephone room, a fact that I'm sure the poor repair man resented, since he had to contend with the two of us and my mom just to do his job.
She looked kind of beautiful in the candle light. Her eyes and mouth were closed (something I was worried about), brow smooth and hair sleek. Her expression was peaceful, seemingly slightly concerned, like maybe there was some small matter she had forgotten to tell me about. With the overhead fluorescents on, she was, I guess the right words are deathly pale. Except for the beds of her fingernails, which were slightly purplish, strangely dark. I sat and talked to her for awhile, not because I was sure, like her friend, that she would hear me, but because I needed to, and because it felt like the right thing to do. I told her I loved her, and that I hoped all of her questions were answered.
(More later...)

The Personal and the Political

2008-10-15T14:22:00.000-07:00

It's kind of weird when I think about it, but it seems like my life started to go off the rails about the same time the country did (and if you don't think the country is off the rails, I don't even want to look at you.) The 2000 elections were mind-blowing; I mean, it seemed like a dog-and-pony show better suited to some banana republic than the U.S. I'm not big on conspiracy theories, but why did all the shit have to go down in the state where his brother was governor? Political scholars and wonks might argue, but for the first time I can remember, it felt like democracy in America had failed, that the president was appointed rather than chosen.
And then 9/11 happened, and the path got really dark and twisty, and Americans grew afraid and suspicious and demanded protection pretty much at any cost.
I made some bad career choices, NSA was in a car accident and became disabled, a close friend's eldest daughter was diagnosed with leukemia. There were some good moments, and the 2004 race gave me hope, only to be dashed with that same smug, smirky face. Things trudged along, getting slowly worse for the majority of the country. And then when the economy is tanking, the Dow bouncing like a Superball, my mom faces a crisis of her own. Barring any miracles, I know what Mom's outcome will be, I can only hope the nation fares better. It might sound strange, but when I see the micro reflected in the macro, I feel like maybe change on a larger scale will help me personally, too. Like maybe a leap of faith taken with an honest-to-goodness idealist is exactly what America, and I, need. I guess I'll just have to see.

Limbo

2008-10-13T15:33:00.000-07:00

I'm in a weird and difficult place right now, trying to prepare for what's to come. I say "trying" because, how do you prepare, really? I've made some arrangements, there were financial and legal matters that Mom let go unattended (no will?? WTF?!), that I took care of as best I could. Other than that, I'm just waiting. Waiting. Waiting for something bad to happen, which is not a fun place to be. Not like when you were little, waiting for summer vacation or Halloween night or Christmas morning, that's happy anticipation. This is just inevitable dread that sits like a rock in the pit of your stomach, making it hard to think about anything else, making you wish you were somewhere else, someone else, even.
Emotionally, I'm glad I was able to spend some quality time with my mom while she was still cognizant and continent, I'm glad I spent the extra week. I don't know why I initially thought one week would be enough.There wasn't a lot left unsaid between us or anything, so we watched movies, listened to the radio and chatted with lots of friends of hers, an exhausting amount, really. Until she was spending more time asleep than awake, and, when she was awake, pressing the button on her morphine pump frequently. I hated leaving, but I couldn't afford to stay, and there wasn't much point really. We've said our goodbyes.
The really sucky thing is that, other than the cancer, she's in pretty good shape. Her heart is strong, her blood pressure is better than mine, so she might linger for a while, which isn't what she wanted at all. But unfortunately, there's not much that can be done about it now, so we're waiting. Waiting.

Fractured Pieces

2008-10-09T15:33:00.000-07:00

So here I am blogging when there's so much else that needs doing, but I want to share, need to share, I guess. Pardon my grammar and coherency, both are liable to fall by the wayside.

Having to leave my mom while she's still alive is causing me a fair amount of guilt, even though her condition deteriorated greatly while I was there, and before I left, she was spending most of the time asleep. I keep reminding myself that she's surrounded by friends, and she never lived her life to please anyone except herself.
Not having been back for a long time, I forget how beautiful Alaska is, how heart-stoppingly gorgeous. And how much it feels like home. I'm also tempted to forget how long and dark the winters are.
I realized that October 23rd will be the thirteenth anniversary of my little brother's death, and I don't think my mom will make it past this date. October, which used to be my favorite month, is pretty much going to suck forever after this.
Some children actually inherit stuff when a parent dies. I'm inheriting a lot of personal memoribilia and some debt. Turns out, my mom no longer owns the land she wants to be buried on. Oh, and I'll get a yellow 1987 Chevy pickup too. Sweet!
More guilt in that I had to take two of my mother's sweet kitties to the local shelter. They are healthy and and adorable and will be kept until adopted, but I felt so fucking bad that I coudn't keep them myself, and I couldn't even explain to them what was going on. I'm more than a little pissed that none of Mom's friends were willing to step in and help out.
I have a vicious cold, which is understandable considering the long flights and the fact that I lived in the hospital for two weeks. Mom's in the hospice room, which is better appointed than a regular room, and family and friends are welcome to stay the night. That's one thing about small towns, it seems like it's easier for people to be accomodating.

Well, it isn't over yet, and there's definitely more to tell, but that's all I can muster for now. I went back to work Monday and am still cleaning up the mess from when I was gone. Sheesh!

Still Kicking

2008-10-02T16:46:00.000-07:00

Oh hello. Yes I do still intend to blog and I've been trying to keep up with everyone else's blogs, I'm just pretty overwhelmed right now. These past couple of weeks with my mom have been a mixed bag. I'm glad I'm here and able to spend time with her, even if it's just sitting by the bed holding her hand. Let me tell you, cancer is a fucking ugly way to die. I'd rather get hit by a Mack truck. I've got a LOT to tell, but it will have to wait for now.

Some Small Resolve

2008-09-15T18:54:00.000-07:00

I slept really badly last night, mostly because a) I was worried about my Mom being back in the hospital, and the possibility that she could die before I see her, b) my boss was being less than supportive about me going to see my Mom (!!!) and c) I'm missing NSA badly and am stressing because he's always been there to support me and offer help. If you've read some of my past entries, you know that I can be really critical of my mom and the choices she's made (like NOT TREATING HER CANCER), but she's still my mother and I love her dearly and I will miss her when she's gone. I'm not looking forward to cleaning up the mess she'll leave behind, but that's a whole different post.
My boss was giving me a hard time about taking a fucking week off to go see my dying mother. This is even though I have weeks of vacation time accrued, not to mention over a week of sick leave and a couple of personal days too. I know I didn't ask for the time off the requisite month in advance, but I think this qualifies as a personal emergency and FUCK the rules, help me out here, like I do when you come to me with a project that must be taken care of immediately. She did come through, I just had to toss and turn for a night first.
NSA is sorry he went out to Colorado, it hasn't been great for his health and most of his family are wallet-draining vampires, but he's been able to see his father and spend some time with his mom, so it's not a total waste of time and money. And I've discovered some things too, like, you know how sometimes in a relationship, one person loves and cares more about the other person? Not that they don't love each other, but that it's not exactly equal. That was how I felt about NSA, like he loved me a little bit more than I loved him. Not any more. I took him for granted, which was childish and selfish, and I love and miss him deeply. It's like losing a leg, I'm functional, but hobbled and hurting without him. I'm glad I understand that now.
So Thursday, I'm off to the wilds of Alaska to see my mom, probably for the last time, with my very expensive plane ticket (but isn't that what plastic is for?) I'll take pictures, and maybe even post them, so you can see where I come from. And that might explain a lot.

Drunk Blogging, Palin, And Monster Hurricanes

2008-09-13T00:12:00.000-07:00

Too much cheap merlot (two-buck Chuck, for those of you in the Trader's Joes know), and easy Internet access are a dangerous combination. Hopefully, this is vaguely coherent, if I even publish (but I'm stupid that way.)
Palin reminds me of all of the things I dislike about Alaska, when there's so much to love. She's narrow-minded and convinced she's RIGHT, no matter what. She has good qualities, but somehow, they end up wrong, like wanting to protect her family. She looks at the wonderful bounty around her, because Alaska IS huge and lovely and bountiful, and fails to realize that much of the rest of the world isn't that way. So much of the world is desperate and impoverished and simply trying to survive. An example; while most Americans received an economic stimulus check of $600.00 this year to help offset gas prices, residents of the state of Alaska will receive over $3000.00 for each man, woman and child (yes, that's over three thousand dollars per person)(or, for a family of four, a down payment on a house) in addition to the paltry six hundred bucks that most Americans got from the Federal government. This is thanks to the PFD (permanent fund dividend), which was set up by some enterprising public servant by way of sharing oil royalties with the Alaskan general populace. And oil prices have been high this year, so boo-yah!! I guess what I'm saying is that Palin's perspective is limited. Alaska is a small, rich state (much like Beverly Hills), and I don't understand why someone from Missouri or Oklahoma would want a privileged white woman (despite the "hockey mom" status) dictating (at least in part) how the country is run.
Ike is headed for Texas, where he's pretty much sure to cause a lot of harm. Scientific research has shown that human beings are responsible for the factors that cause hurricanes to be more powerful (despite what the Bush administration would like us to believe), and so I say, how many lives and how much property must be lost before we wise up and realize that we control our fate, that we are the captains of our destiny? We are one of the few thinking animals on Earth, we are obligated to take care of it, even the Bible says that we are the stewards of this magnificent creation. And yet we treat our only home like a frat house. Fuck the plumbing, fuck the rottting floorboards, we are here to par-tay! The next residents (i.e., our children and grandchildren) can pay the price.
Wow!! Drunk blogging is seriously hard! A bottle of wine later and my typing skills are shit, I find myself backspacing a lot. I'm going to go ahead and put this ramble out there, although I might seriously regret it later. (Can someone tell me, does The Birdhouse still exist, or did the owners not rebuild after the most recent time it burned?)

Buried In An Avalanche Of Shit

2008-09-12T13:11:00.000-07:00

This is what's going on in my life right now, and, FUCK ME!, am I ever sorry I complained about last year. I guess I was just asking for more punishment with my bitching.
NSA and I are in a trial separation. He's in Colorado visiting his family, trying to spend time with his father, who has prostate cancer. His dad, however, is not inclined to see much of his family, since mostly they want his money and don't have much regard for him. NSA couldn't give a shit about his dad's money, he's just interested in spending time with the old man before he dies. He's being tarred with the same brush as the rest of his siblings though, and his father's new wife is playing dragon at the gate and keeping everyone away. NSA is understandably pissed off and frustrated. It took a lot out of him just to get to Colorado, and he doesn't particularly enjoy living with the bitching, petty jealousies, and infighting that make up his familial interactions. On the plus side, comparatively, life with me in SoCal now doesn't seem so bad.
My mother is in the hospital dealing with the symptoms of her cancer. She's had to have fluid removed from her right lung again, and she's in a considerable amount of pain. She's to the point where she'll consider surgery, chemotherapy and radiation, but, according to her doctor, it's probably too late. Probably just a matter of months, weeks maybe. The cancer has metastasized to her lung and possibly her bones as well. So I'm trying to plan what will most likely be my last trip to see my mother alive. Thank you sir, may I have another?
I'm trying to practice the survival techniques you're taught for bad situations, like avalanches. Things like, don't panic, remain calm, assess the situation. But I feel like my air is running out and I'm afraid help won't arrive in time.

I Am Turning Into A Teenage Boy

2008-09-09T20:15:00.000-07:00

During the past three days, I've started to question my gender identification. I'm definitely engaging in behaviors not typical of a thirty-something woman. Such behaviors are:

Staying up waaay too late watching TV.
Said TV consists of Ninja Warrior, Skins and Unbeatable Banzuke. (I don't think the target demographic for any of these shows is working women over thirty.)
Sitting for hours in front my computer, watching videos on YouTube and searching for music.
Eating mostly crap, including frozen dinners, Reser's Potato Salad, week-old pizza, chips, and drinking margaritas straight from the bottle. (I haven't started guzzling Mountain Dew yet, but if my computer time keeps going up, I probably will.)
Sleeping on sheets that haven't been washed in a month.
Texting with a cute girl who wanted to know how I am and what I'm doing.
And, tonight I had to remind myself three times that the trash needed to go out! Sheesh, kids these days.

Of course, if I were really turning into a teenage boy, then I would probably be watching a lot more porn, and playing with my breasts.

A Small Piece Of Wisdom

2008-09-08T21:32:00.000-07:00

When drinking pre-made margaritas straight from the 1.75 liter bottle, Reser's Potato Salad for dinner makes a very poor base.

Random Bits II

2008-09-07T18:06:00.000-07:00

Last week I encountered no less than three people going the wrong way on one-way streets. This isn't really a big deal on my scooter, since the streets aren't that tight, but it's still kind of amazing. One was a guy on a red motorcyle who looked like he really didn't give a damn, maybe he's a cop's kid or something. Hell, maybe he's a cop. Next was a Hispanic guy in a work truck looking confused and anxious. Last was a small woman in a large SUV who still gave me attitude even after she knew she was in the wrong, like it's worth risking someone's life because you weren't paying attention.

Here's a news flash: If you want people to use public transportation, it has to be reliable. And don't tell me it can't be done, especially in SoCal, when weather is almost never a factor. I hate seeing billboards and PSAs encouraging the use of a system that is SHIT. I mean, it is a severe annoyance when buses are supposed to run every fifteen minutes, and you wait for half an hour only to have TWO of the same bus arrive simultaneously. Other cities and countries somehow manage to have decent public transportation, why can't we?

Strawberries are finally down to a decent price. They're grown ten miles from here, so why have they been $3.99 a quart for most of the summer? That's what I'd expect to pay in winter.

At McDonald's a few days ago, this lady with a deeply Southern accent almost made me laugh out loud when she asked for a glass of "ass-water." Well, it was actually more like "ahhss-water," but still, brought to mind all sorts of unpleasant images.

My Favorite Job Ever!

2008-09-04T16:44:00.000-07:00

I loved this place so much. And no, it's not a strip club, but it is just blocks away from one. I'm really, really sorry I never had the chance to go back after I left. I knew 'Keys was looking to retire, and since he wrote the shows as well as playing keyboards and owning the place, if he wanted to retire, the club pretty much had to close. It wasn't like he could just hire a replacement. The Fly By Night was an Alaskan institution, I mean, how could you not love a place who's motto was "Spam, Booze, Rhythm & Blues"?
I cocktailed there for two and a half seasons. The money was good, the atmosphere was wicked fun, and the club was closed January through March. Alaska, besides being a wealthy state, has a lot of typically seasonal work (timber, fishing, tourism) and so the unemployment laws are pretty liberal, I collected unemployment while the club was closed ('Keys usually spent some time in Hawaii during those dreary winter months.)
The shows were pretty good, funny, but after three or four months of seeing the same routines, they did get a bit monotonous for the staff. However, you could work in costume if you liked, so there were ways to liven things up. 'Keys routinely poked fun at tourists and typically Alaskan stuff; fishing, slow RVs, wildlife encounters and wild assumptions. He LOVED election years for their goldmine of material. He would have had an absolute heyday with Sarah Palin's VP nomination and Don Young's corruption indictment, and he would have pulled no punches in being wickedly funny about both Bristol's name and her pregnancy.
I had a lot of fun times at that club, Cadillac margaritas and double shots of Patron for staff after hours. There's nothing quite like emerging from a club, half-drunk, with a bunch of cash in your pocket, into the eerily early dawn of an Alaskan morning. Jesus, I miss that feeling.

No Thinking, Just Doing

2008-09-02T15:33:00.000-07:00

I'm not in a good place today. The long weekend wasn't relaxing, it was just more personal bullshit. NSA leaves Saturday to visit his family, for how long has yet to be determined. I'm just floating, getting some work done, not tying myself up in knots like I could be. I remind myself that nothing's permanent. And, for today at least, no thinking, just doing. Mindlessness can be a good thing.
(Check back later in the week when I might have something more interesting to say. No guarantees though.)

Doing Good

2008-08-27T15:13:00.001-07:00

I want to come out on the plus side as far as doing good in my life, and I have some questions.

My current favorite blouse is a warm purple color that I love. It has "Made in China" on the label, which generally gives me a bad feeling but, I bought it from a charity thrift store. So does the secondhand/charity angle make up for the fact that it was probably manufactured under environmentally- and worker-unfriendly conditions?

I generally conserve water, don't run the tap while I'm brushing my teeth and do only full loads of laundry and dishes but, I like long, hot showers. How does that balance out, or does it? (Because I feel guilty, but apparently not enough to change my behavior.)

I absolutely love my scooter, there's no doubt that it's better for the environment and saves on gas and money when compared to a car but, I take it on long drives just for fun and I use it for trips that are within walking distance. I feel positive, even righteous, about this choice, but if I did use my scooter less, that would be better. I mean, walking causes zero pollution.

I give money to those on the street that ask for it. I know that certain groups think this encourages alcoholism and drug abuse, but I don't have the heart to deny people who obviously have so little. My mother used to offer food or a meal in lieu of cash, but that's time consuming and inconvenient. I'll give spare change, because I can afford it, and because it just seems mean not to.

A Favorite Poem

2008-08-23T21:34:00.000-07:00

Just in the mood to share...

The Fish
I caught a tremendous fish
and held him beside the boat
half out of water, with my hook
fast in a corner of his mouth.
He didn't fight.
He hadn't fought at all.
He hung a grunting weight,
battered and venerable
and homely. Here and there
his brown skin hung in strips
like ancient wallpaper,
and its pattern of darker brown
was like wallpaper:
shapes like full-blown roses
stained and lost through age.
He was speckled and barnacles,
fine rosettes of lime,
and infested
with tiny white sea-lice,
and underneath two or three
rags of green weed hung down.
While his gills were breathing in
the terrible oxygen
--the frightening gills,
fresh and crisp with blood,
that can cut so badly--
I thought of the coarse white flesh
packed in like feathers,
the big bones and the little bones,
the dramatic reds and blacks
of his shiny entrails,
and the pink swim-bladder
like a big peony.
I looked into his eyes
which were far larger than mine
but shallower, and yellowed,
the irises backed and packed
with tarnished tinfoil
seen through the lenses
of old scratched isinglass.
They shifted a little, but not
to return my stare.
--It was more like the tipping
of an object toward the light.
I admired his sullen face,
the mechanism of his jaw,
and then I saw
that from his lower lip
--if you could call it a lip
grim, wet, and weaponlike,
hung five old pieces of fish-line,
or four and a wire leader
with the swivel still attached,
with all their five big hooks
grown firmly in his mouth.
A green line, frayed at the end
where he broke it, two heavier lines,
and a fine black thread
still crimped from the strain and snap
when it broke and he got away.
Like medals with their ribbons
frayed and wavering,
a five-haired beard of wisdom
trailing from his aching jaw.
I stared and stared
and victory filled up
the little rented boat,
from the pool of bilge
where oil had spread a rainbow
around the rusted engine
to the bailer rusted orange,
the sun-cracked thwarts,
the oarlocks on their strings,
the gunnels--until everything
was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow!
And I let the fish go.
~Elizabeth Bishop (1911-1979)

Feelin' Pervy

2008-08-22T15:15:00.000-07:00

So I was watching Skins on BBC America last night, a fun, sexy teen fantasy that I'm sure was written by a bunch of thirty-somethings looking back on their high school years thinking, "If I'd known then what I know now, I would have been so much cooler!" It had that sort of unrealistic tone to it, but it wasn't pretentious, just fun and a little ridiculous.
The lead, Nicholas Hoult, being an attractive young man, caught my attention. Sure, I thought, he's a bit young, but boys grow up. And I thought he looked familiar, although I couldn't immediately place him. Apparently, my subconscious went to work, because this morning I woke up going "He's the kid from About A Boy! I'm old enough to be his mother!" (A teen mother, but still, quite a bit older than him.) Ewwww. I felt slightly creepy, lusting after someone younger than my stepson, but hey, with the whole MILF and "cougar" thing going on, I know I'm not the only one.

Bad Morning=Sucky Day

2008-08-20T15:12:00.000-07:00

(Warning: It's a completely crap post today, so if you want something funny or uplifting, go here or here.)

It's never a good thing when you're woken from a bad dream by your alarm. The remains of the dream just seem to stay with you for the rest of the day. If I could have stayed sleeping, then maybe I would have dreamt something else. I made coffee and cried on the living room couch, NSA drank tea in anger in the bedroom. I finally felt a little better after my shower when the caffeine kicked in, but my eyes were puffy, clear evidence of crying, and I hate that. I've successfully avoided pretty much everyone at work, and one of my co-workers is out with a bad cold, so maybe my sniffles and puffy eyes are because I'm getting sick too (total lie, but I really haven't been feeling well lately, for obvious reasons.) It's afternoon now, not too much longer before I can go home, not that that's much to look forward to, but at least I don't have to pretend. I have a bad headache and all I really want to do is turn off the lights and put my head down on the desk, but that's not really an option. Jesus, I hate days like this.

This Weekend

2008-08-18T11:29:00.000-07:00

Took a long, lovely ride on my scooter. I love driving up and down the hills around here, the breeze and the sunshine feel really good, and the smells are incredible. Sometimes nice, sometimes icky, but always present. Down one long hill, there's a particular scent I would call Desert Sage, but that sounds too heavy. A light, warm, spicy odor. I also passed a guy pruning the rosemary hedges in front of a school, that is a heavenly smell.
Vacuumed up about three cats-worth of hair. It's been warm, they shed like fiends and hate being brushed, and I don't enjoy being scratched. So sucking up their fur is pretty much the only option.
Helped NSA go through some stuff, trying to figure out what he needs to take with, what can stay behind and what can be mailed later. Everything is just sort of cool and efficient now, but I was awake for two hours last night turning things over in my head.
Won a whole $2.00 in the lottery. A pretty piss-poor return on $6.00.
Had a couple of shots of Irish Cream in my evening chai. Very tasty and a nice warm feeling without the temptation to overdo it like other liquors might inspire. I still have the urge to get really, really stinkin' drunk though.

Dodged a Bullet

2008-08-15T15:24:00.000-07:00

Sweet relief!! (On a completely unrelated note, I just told the FedEx guy that his "little thingy" [stylus] wasn't any good.) I had to go to court today to defend actions taken, or actually, not taken, by my predecessor. This situation has been a source of worry and frustration for several months now, since I initially lost the lawsuit and have been waiting anxiously for the appeal. I WON, even though I was very doubtful that I would. And it feels wonderful. My boss thinks I'm a hero, I saved the company thousands of dollars (not that I really care), this is the best thing that's happened in a while.
Basically, I was asked to clean up a mess that started six years ago, four years before I started. Since my predecessor no longer works for the company, it fell to me to sort it out, which was difficult considering I wasn't around at the time and didn't have all of the information. There probably wouldn't have been any real repercussions if I had lost, I really couldn't be held accountable, but it's hard to tell in these situations. No one wants to be responsible for costing their employer money, and I was afraid for my job if it went badly. Bad will is a significant factor when it comes to lay-offs, promotions and internal politics, so it's usually a good idea to be on your boss' good side. And now I am again.
I think I'll have a drink and buy some lottery tickets tonight, 'cause I'm feeling lucky.

Cool and Gray

2008-08-13T11:23:00.000-07:00

It's cool and cloudy this morning and that suits me just fine. I didn't sleep well last night since there was some drama going on around the complex that involved much screaming and slamming of doors; I hate most drama now, I have enough of my own thankyouverymuch. NSA will be going to Colorado for an extended family visit soon, probably within the next week or two. His health isn't good and he really isn't up for traveling, but his father is letting his cancer go untreated and NSA is really unhappy with me, so it seems like the best option right now. No paperwork has been filed and I'm thinking of it as a temporary separation. We'll see if time and space make a difference, good or other. (A part of me thinks that since his family is so fucked up, he'll want to come back after two days. That he'll see our situation isn't so bad and I'm not that hard to live with, considering.)
My mother was in the hospital over the weekend. She didn't call me until one of her friends said that if she didn't, the friend would. She felt short of breath on Saturday, and a trip to the emergency room revealed that her right lung was full of fluid. They drained her lung and kept her overnight. While it doesn't look like the cancer has spread to her lung, apparently the tumor is seeping fluid. At least now she's willing to consider chemotherapy, only seventeen months after finding the lump in her breast.
My mood is cool and gray too. I'm feeling foggy and dispassionate, just limping toward the weekend hoping nothing will happen. I don't think I could handle anything else right now.

Oh, Johnny Boy

2008-08-11T15:16:00.000-07:00

Words can't adequately express how glad I am that John Edwards didn't win the Democratic nomination, only to reveal himself as a liar and adulterer. Not that I care, I mean, morally I think sexual indiscretions are primarily the concern of those involved and not a measure of leadership or political savvy. Far less damning than being corrupt. But so many Americans do care, at least publicly. I did view Edwards as being the most electable of the Dems running, and I would have voted for him, but I will happily vote for Obama (and would have unhappily voted for Hillary), because the possibility of four more years of the current state of the nation scares the living shit out of me. McCain is just more of the same, only slightly less to the right than Bush, and temperamental, a sort of Cheney-lite. I don't think he will do any good for the economy or foreign policy, and if he's elected, I think the U.S. will continue to decline, both internally, and in international esteem.

Favorite Movie Mini-Review: Enchanted April

2008-08-08T15:11:00.000-07:00

I have a lot of favorite movies, most of them not typical Hollywood fare, and since I generally love movies and the film-making process, I thought I would share why each of these made my list.

Enchanted April is a small, girly movie starring Miranda Richardson and Alfred Molina. It's a sweet, quiet movie about four English women sharing an Italian villa in the 1920's. There's a line about Miranda Richardson's character looking like a "disappointed Madonna" and a dinner conversation about how freeing it is not to wear underwear that I particularly like. The cinematography is gorgeous, making good use of the beautiful locale. It's a romantic movie about the power of love and friendship to transform; each of the women is hurting in some way, and each is healed by time spent at the villa. It's a bit sappy, probably not a good pick for youngsters or action-flick fans, but perfect if you're in the mood for something gentle and lovely.

Things I Don't Talk About

2008-08-06T15:33:00.000-07:00

People blog for various reasons. I love people like this, who try to tell you what you should write about, like there are some hard and fast rules to blogging (I particularly like #3, I mean, Heather Armstrong is only one of the most successful bloggers ever, and she mostly talks about herself, her kid, and her dogs.) Some people blog to make money, but personally, I think that proposition is sort of like those "make millions at home in your spare time!" deals; someone, somewhere is doing it, but probably not you or anyone you know. A lot of people blog as a way to keep in touch with family and friends; pictures of the little ones and the latest vacation, faster, easier and more economical than letters. (Does anyone even write letters any more??)
I blog for purely selfish reasons, to get things off my chest, to share my opinions, 'cause doesn't everyone want to know what I think? I write about things that I can't or don't feel comfortable discussing with family and co-workers. Seriously, I keep it waaay anonymous because some shit would definitely get me fired. I share more because of the anonymity factor. I write about things that are very personal, but in a sort of impersonal way because I don't want to reveal too many identifying details. Having said that, here are some things I've been avoiding writing about, for one reason or another:
-I think NSA and I are splitting up, after nearly eighteen years together. A lot of it has to do with his health, and my often poor reaction to it, but it also has to do with mistakes made in the past that are much more meaningful now that he is disabled. I'm horribly regretful and guilty, hopeful that a trial separation will give time to mend, but also kind of relieved.
-Details of my sex life, past and present. Even though there are some really juicy stories there, maybe someday I'll fictionalize them, it seems a bit tawdry and pornographic to share. Yes, I used to dance naked for a living, but some things are just personal.
-Much of my childhood. I think I'm saving most of my past for my autobiography, and although I've had the impulse to tell more in my blog, I've stifled it because leaving out pertinent details to maintain my anonymity makes it kind of generic. The details provide richness and authenticity, so anonymous=bland.

Friday Snarkfest

2008-08-01T15:46:00.000-07:00

I am SO glad it's Friday! This week felt about ten days long. I'm feeling snarky and thought I'd share.

Don't stand in my office and complain about how you can't lose weight while sucking down your 1,000 calorie "morning coffee." That thing isn't a cup of coffee, or even a full-fat latte (or two), it's a fucking caffeinated MILKSHAKE!

Please, please, do not try to talk politics unless you really want my honest opinion. As much as I might want to, I will not smile and nod just to get you to shut up, and it's rude to discuss touchy subjects in a business relationship. Don't get offended and whiny when I say I won't talk about it; my boss will totally back me up on this. And to answer your questions, yes, I do think Obama has enough experience to be president, and yes, I also think that McCain has anger management issues.

The State of the Prostate

2008-07-29T14:42:00.000-07:00

Remember what I said about my father-in-law having prostate cancer and maybe being smarter than my mother about treatment? Well, no, he's definitely not. Apparently, his doctor recommended surgery, but instead, he's opted to seek treatment from some shamanistic healer type, because he truly, sincerely believes all disease is in your mind. Whatever. That vomiting you're doing? Not from the shrimp salad you ate for lunch, no, must be that anger you still harbor towards your first grade teacher. You have diabetes? Certainly not because your Islets of Langerhans burnt out prematurely, what unresolved issues do you have with your grandfather?
And what pisses me off the most is that he doesn't see it as a form of suicide, as an incredibly self-hating and self-destructive thing to do, he just thinks he's smarter than the whole medical community. People who go into the field of psychology are NUTS, and trying to resolve their own issues.

Opening Line

2008-07-24T15:38:00.000-07:00

The first line of my autobiography:
"When I was four I tried to drown myself, twice."

Yes, it's true, it really happened; obviously, I wasn't successful. I think it's a pretty killer first line, gripping, makes you want to read more, don'tcha think?
I love to write, have for a long time, but this whole poking-around-in-the-past thing makes for sludgy going. It's not really very fun to dredge up old memories, even if they make for good storytelling, even if it seems somehow important that you write all of this shit down. It sort of feels like like cleaning out a closet, (not a very original analogy, I know) like you have to go through and sort out all of this crap before you can be done with it. And even if it's a closet full of Chanel couture (or maybe just knock-offs), a closet that might net you a lot of money, it's still not exactly a pleasant task. Okay, enough of the closet analogy, you get my meaning.
And then I worry about what's going to happen after the book is written and published, because there's a good chance that there will be controversy, or at least, scandal. I get waaay ahead of myself, I worry how my life might change and what unforeseen consequences will come my way, because if there's one thing I've learned, there are always unforeseen consequences. Boy, I guess I'm pretty good at hobbling myself, huh?
Anyway, all of this is to say that I'm not making the progress I'd like when it comes to my writing and I'm feeling frustrated. Boo-hoo for me. But still, a good first line, don'tcha think?

What I Would Miss If I Were Suddenly Transported To 1808

2008-07-23T14:17:00.000-07:00

I spent the whole morning in a pointless meeting, I'm feeling crabby and irritable, so a little exercise in appreciating the here-and-now.

My husband, because he never would have survived his childhood in the 1800's. He was born in the '60's and is lucky to have survived then.
Refrigeration- even more than air conditioning, there are so many things we can keep, eat and do because of portable cold.
Air travel- Sure, I haven't done much lately, but the thought that I could jump on a plane and, in a matter of hours, be in Australia or Brazil, France or Japan, helps get me through.
Penicillin- I guess this an obvious one, but neo-Luddites like my mother really fail to realize how much modern medicine has improved our lives. I mean, I'd much rather take Tylenol than laudanum for a headache. And if I got an infection while stranded in the past, you can bet I'd be scarfing all the moldy bread I could find.
Entertainment- Yeah, yeah, I watch waaay too much T.V., I could be crafting or doing something productive, but fake Hollywood deaths seem far preferable to me than public executions.
Foreign cuisine- While I'm sure 1808 probably had some of the best buttermilk biscuits you could ever want, we have access to so much more now. Like sushi, and tapas, and really, really good Italian. And while I know that food safety has been a huge concern lately, you're not going to get typhoid or TB like you could have in the past.

I guess my point is that while people tend to romanticize the past, now really is the best time to be alive.

Vivi the Greyhound

2008-07-21T13:19:00.000-07:00

A tale to warm the cockles of your heart, if they need warming.
In my excursions around the neighborhood, I encounter many "lost pet" notices. Some have happy endings, like missing kitty Orian, who's owners wrote "Found!" in happy-colored marker on the notices when he was recovered safely. Others, I'm left to wonder about. Did Katie the parrot make it home okay? Did anyone claim the rewards offered for Baghdad the black cat or Molly the Yorkie? There are coyotes around, even in this urban environment, and house pets must make easy prey.
One Saturday morning, I saw a notice for a lost greyhound. It was colorful and looked almost professionally produced. Vivi went missing after having chased a cat and gotten away from her owners, something I guess greyhounds are wont to do, give chase. The notice said she was shy, not to approach her if spotted, that she might be hiding in someone's bushes or under a garage. I didn't think about it a lot, but I paid attention when I was out.
A few weeks later, the notices were tattered, and I wondered what became of Vivi. On the way home from working out one morning, I saw a middle-aged couple with a tall, brindled greyhound taking down the notices. I asked if this was Vivi, and they said no, but that she had been found, dehydrated, exhausted, but basically okay, hiding in a ravine. Missing for twenty days, she had made herself a "scrape" and was seen by someone from their back window. I said I was happy that she was home and safe, and walked away quickly because I was a little embarrassed. I wanted to talk to them more, but I was teary over these stranger's dog, and it seemed silly. Such a little thing, to be glad that someone has their pet back, that this commonplace story has a happy ending, and such a big thing too.

That Bitch Inertia

2008-07-18T11:22:00.000-07:00

I haven't been posting much lately, like at all!, I guess because I've been falling into the "if you can't say something nice, don't say anything" trap and I've been feeling whiny and complain-y mostly. I end up feeling so shallow and ungrateful when all I can do is bitch and moan. Yes, currently my life kind of sucks. Yes, there are millions of people in much worse circumstances than mine. Yes, I don't see a clear way to get to where I want to be, blah, blah, blah. I just want to tell myself, Christ, woman! Stop your pissing and moaning and DO something! And I do, and it doesn't seem to help much.

Part of it is that I'm coming up on the two-year mark (I hate to say "anniversary" because in my mind, anniversary implies something pleasant and I don't feel that way) at this job. What was supposed to be a temporary measure until we got back on our feet has become more permanent, and I'm hating it right now. It doesn't fulfill me in any meaningful way, there's a lot about it I don't like or agree with, and it's becoming harder for me to stuff my feelings and show up every day. This is dangerous territory, because historically, when I feel this way, I do something to sabotage myself and force the issue, which is a stupid way to live your life.

Part of it is that NSA's health hasn't been good. This has been true for quite a while, but in the past nine months, we've gotten more and more bad news. Yesterday afternoon was spent at the hospital getting a lengthy stress test on his heart, which should help his cardiologist decide if he needs surgery. Heart surgery. For my forty-four year old husband. So when he gets depressed and feels worthless and says he doesn't want to put me through all this, it's pretty understandable. And part of me feels resentful because it's all on me. If I want things to change, I have to change them, he's just not capable any more. It's a one-woman rescue team, there is no outside help coming, our asses need saving and I need to figure out how to do it, sigh.

I think I need to watch Touching the Void again, to remind me what human beings are capable of.

It all comes down to what I can and cannot do, or more like, what I am and am not willing to do. In college, I would wait to do my term papers until the week, sometimes the weekend, before they were due. I would rush to do research, find sources, write, edit and rewrite. And I got A's and B's. Got quoted by my professors. Was generally rewarded for doing what I considered a half-assed job. The trick was the deadline, the absolute must, the need to bring myself to task and focus. And I did it, consistently, successfully. The same thing applies in the real world, when there's a deadline I have to meet at work, I do, and with good results. Why do I find this so hard to do for myself?? If I disappoint myself, there's no immediate consequences. If I let myself down, I'm the one who suffers. And family and friends are no real help; they're not motivators, they're distractors. I need to find some way around this, this boulder on my path labeled "lacks self-discipline," otherwise I'll probably end up fat, unhappy, living in a trailer park and bitching about the neighbor's kids, with squandered gifts and a wasted life. Reminds me of Lu Ann Hampton Laverty Oberlander.

Christmas in June!

2008-07-11T16:21:00.000-07:00

Christ! An illustration of how my mind works, or doesn't. I wanted to write about my 14 things, but got busy (typical excuse), and then, I absolutely wouldn't allow myself to blog about anything else until that entry was done! End result: no posting for two weeks, while still regularly commenting on other's blogs. How fucked up is that?

I received a package of thirteen things from Susan on Friday the 27th, the "delightful thing" having arrived a few days earlier. I guess a large envelope is less threatening than a box, at least to whomever is responsible for making sure that American borders aren't violated by all sorts of unimaginable horrors.
The package and envelope were both beautifully wrapped in gorgeous red, handmade (I assume) paper. And my post office gives me crap every time I try to send anything that's not plain and brown.

The delightful thing was a print of Stephanie. I love the colors and the soft-focus, and Susan remembered that I had admired this photo when she posted it. Now I just have to find the perfect framing, something I'm pretty good at when motivated.
Beachy things- a lovely little collection of beach glass and spiral seashells, so delicate and yet so hardy.
Several papery things, including a hot-pink journal, a beautiful page from an antique, hand-printed Chinese book, and a book that sounds really good, Not Wanted On the Voyage, by Timothy Findley.
Thing that costs less than a dollar- A mix CD. Really like Breathe Me by Sia Furler and Must I Paint You a Picture by Billy Bragg, neither of which I'd heard before. There are also a couple of favorites of mine, Don't Speak by No Doubt and Your Latest Trick by Dire Straits.
The soft thing is a gauzy orange and grey scarf, filmy and lovely.
A once-useful Chanel stamp bought at the post office in the Eiffel Tower, attached to a wonderful post card. I'm kind of awed that there are Chanel stamps, how cool is that?, and this item means a lot to me, since I haven't been to Paris since I was twelve and would love to return.
The red thing is this polaroid. I love that Susan loves to share her art; it's so personal, intimate, and frankly, brings tears to my eyes.
Two traditional food items of Nova Scotia maple syrup, delicious!, and summer savory, an herb I've never tried.
Two favorite candies: A fish Ticklestick and a Canadian Cherry Blossom. Really enjoyed the Cherry Blossom, I love chocolate-covered cherries and usually reserve them as a special treat around the holidays when they tend to be on sale. Although the Ticklestick was pretty, I'm not a big fan of gummi things, the texture I think, but happily, NSA is and liked the break from his usual bears.
Something found at the back of a drawer- A beautiful pewter pin of two rabbits and a snail, absolutely lovely and makes me wonder what other fantastic things Susan has hidden away in the backs of drawers.
The once-living things are a mermaid's purse, which is the egg case from a whelk, I think, and the delicate shell of a small, male (fairly certain) crab. Lovely, lovely sea treasures from the Atlantic Coast, and reminders of a childhood visit to Cape Cod.
A favorite recipe for seafood crepe pie, printed on the back of a map of Nova Scotia. Sounds decadent and yummy, definitely a meal to blow your diet over.
With a middle initial of A, Susan includes a print of her "Red Dog, Yellow Dog" illustration, which I certainly think qualifies as art.
Just Us chai tea, a gentler version of what I like to enjoy in the afternoon.

The 14 things swap really was better than Christmas for me. There were genuine surprises, of the good kind, and many lovely things, without the stress that usually accompanies the holidays. Susan obviously puts a great deal of care and attention into the things she does, and I find her inspiring in many ways.

Freedom Five Friday

2008-06-27T15:38:00.000-07:00

'Cause it's Friday afternoon and I'm feeling flip.

Chiwetel Ejiofor- First noticed him in Love Actually as the guy marrying Keira Knightley, and had an eyes-wide, "who is that??" reaction. I've adored him ever since.
Viggo Mortensen- Incredible actor, poet and photographer. Politically aware, humble, and gracious as all hell. Sure, he might be a little intense, but he totally does it for me.
Jet Li- YUM-MY! It must be the eyes...and the jaw...and the chiseled body, the way he moves...etc., etc.
Jesse L. Martin- A long-time Law & Order favorite. Sure, Chris Noth is good-looking too, but Jesse has waaay more sex appeal.
John Barrowman- Totally gorgeous in a classic, timeless way. Not well-known in the States, but meltingly hot nonetheless. The fact that he's gay does nothing to detract from his attactiveness, in fact, it only makes him more appealing.

Runner's up- Willem Dafoe, Vin Diesel, and Mathew St. Patrick.

What Doesn't Kill You, Wounds For Life

2008-06-26T15:22:00.000-07:00

A fantastic line borrowed from a song by Strange Advance, and so apropos.

I was sexually abused when I was young. I had the hardest time talking about this, admitting it, to anyone for a very long time. I was ashamed, humiliated, and just plain grossed-out. I mean, the "ewww!!" factor is pretty high when discussing most things sexual anyway, and if it's perverse or deviant, then even more so. I think this is part of what's wrong with American culture, an inability to be open and honest about things that make us uncomfortable, but I digress. I will say that an atmosphere of secrecy and denial, much like the current administration, allows evil to flourish.

I was abused by two men over the course of about ten years, from age five to about fifteen, when I was finally old enough to protect myself, make myself unavailable. I wasn't the only victim of these men. I'm pretty sure there were at least four others girls, possibly boys too, and the numbers could be much, much, higher, since these men were respected in the community, traveled internationally, and lived long lives. They had access to dozens, maybe hundreds, of children. I didn't do anything about the situation even after I was an adult, which might have contributed to my little brother's suicide, but I'll never know.

It's taken a long time to try and come to terms with what happened to me. For the most part, I tried not to think about it, to put it behind me and just live my life, but some things are not so easily gotten over. For the longest time, I didn't even think about the fact that I probably wasn't the only one, until I started to research and discovered that pedophiles typically have more than one victim, and that the profile of a serial abuser is a white, religious male. The publicity surrounding the scandals in the Catholic church helped, made me realize that it was more common than anyone wanted to admit, made me feel less ashamed and less alone. I didn't want to think of myself as wounded, because I so desperately wanted to be "normal," to have a happy, fabulous life, and so I denied the past. But as Faulkner said, "The past isn't dead, it isn't even passed."

I don't know if Mom was aware of what happened, she says she wasn't, that she had no idea, but who lets a grown man, a boyfriend, bathe with her five year old daughter? Someone, a friend of a friend, she'd known for weeks, maybe months at the time, not years. Of course, time of association doesn't really mean anything, abuse typically happens at the hands of a friend or family member. The spectre of the shadowy stranger, of "Chester the Molester" lurking around playgrounds simply isn't reality. And pedophiles recognize vulnerable children, seek out circumstances where their activities will go unnoticed or ignored. It's a hunter-prey situation, and the fact that my mother was tag-teamed by two men she trusted mitigates her culpability, at least in my mind. She doesn't go unpunished, though. I know part of my reticence to have children stems from my childhood. You were a bad mother, so no grandchildren for you!

Experiences shape you, mold your perceptions, and so effect future decisions. My stripping and Internet modeling, my desire to act, my passive-aggressive tendencies, I'm sure much of it comes from the lessons I was taught. I'm trying hard to create new patterns, new behaviors, new ways of being, but the past is sticky and old ruts are familiar if loathed. I can't, won't, let my future be dictated by the perversity and sickness of two fucked up old men, both dead now. I may be wounded, but I'm strong, and I can live with the scars.

Mosaic Meme

2008-06-24T11:18:00.000-07:00

I liked this idea, so I ripped it off from Pants! I had a lot of fun putting it together, although some of the answers were unexpectedly difficult.
Here's the meme:
A. Type your answers to the following questions into Flickr Search.
B. Pick an image from the first page.
C. Copy and paste the URLs for the photos into fd's mosaic maker.

1. What is your first name?
2. What is your favorite food?
3. What high school did you go to?
4. What is your favorite color?
5. Who is your celebrity crush?
6. What is your favorite drink?
7. What is your dream vacation?
8. What is your favorite dessert?
9. What do you want to be when you grow up?
10. What do you love most in life?
11. One word to describe you.
12. Your flickr name.

And then I had a lot of trouble saving and posting the mosaic, but I tend to be technologically-challenged.

Things That Never Fail To Lift My Spirits

2008-06-20T10:14:00.000-07:00

A long scooter ride in the sunshine. It's just so damn fun!
Coupons for Chipotle! I know, I know, they're only burritos, but what burritos they are! And free. How can you beat free? Definitely worth rooting through the mail room trash.
Jezebel stretching and rolling around on the carpet, begging for attention and exposing her soft tummy.
America's Funniest Home Videos. Sure, some of them are just stupid, and the commentary is inevitably insipid, but there's always a couple that make me laugh out loud.
Laurie Anderson. Certain songs on "Mr. Heartbreak" and "Strange Angels" are my definition of perfection.