Mar 31, 2005
Open Invitation
Man, that was fun. So fun in fact, i invite anyone else interested in asking me questions to do so... I need all the help i can get!! =)
Mar 30, 2005
RP Answers
1. What was the biggest surprise to you about coming to NY?
The biggest surprise.
Hmmmm.
That's a hard one because i had so few expectations.
When I met my BF online (a blog reader) everything happened so fast. I barely had time to think about New York before i arrived at its gate. In a way, i think we both needed it that way so we couldn't talk ourselves out of our starry eyed, lovestruck inspiration - being so prone to overthinking and worry that we are.. Once bitten twice shy? Then probably we more closely resembled gnarled squeaky chew toys than people: protecting what was left in our bottled up, cloistered, wounded keeps.
Maybe i'm surprised by how much i love it. How much NY has to offer. How many exciting places and people and terribly interesting things to do there are. But i haven't done them yet so i don't really feel qualified to speak of that yet.
Most importantly, i'm surprised by how deep a connection i've made with this once distant entity (D) known only to me through words.
Its kinda amazing really ~from blog to lover in 60 days.
What do you miss most about Hawaii?
Although you might expect to hear that i miss the year round summer weather, tropical beaches, or the laidback island mentality, i think actually what i really miss the most is simply the comfort of familiarity: knowing where things are, where i am, what's around me, what the people are like, what i'm doing, the routine of work and coworkers and and how to get around.
I don't know why.
It seems terribly lame when i reflect upon it.
Maybe its a sign of something bad. Maybe its the first step on a slippery slope towards getting old and resistant to change - stuck in my ways and unable to adapt.
Actually, now that i think about it, i felt the same way when i first moved from the Westcoast to Hawaii. I experienced a lasting culture-shock of sorts that didn't fully subside for years. The language, the envirornment, the lifestyle, the mentality - everything was different from the Pacific No rth wes t. And prior to that - i also recall having felt uncomfortable at college my first 2 years. A strange town, new streets. "Where's the grocery store? How do i get to the this street?"
Maybe i'm slow. Maybe i'm stubborn. Maybe i'm just afraid.
What's strange though, and totally ironic - is the perception of the people who "know" me. I'm applauded for boldness and admired for bravery. "I could never do what you do," they say when they speak of various choices i've made.
Isn't that crazy?!
Its so totally untrue. And i'm not being humble. Its simply not true. I'm a class-1 grade-A weanie! But i do try to ease my fear of fear, and self-validate by remembering
"Courage is not the absence of fear, it is pushing on despite it."
That said, i wouldn't mind hearing a little local pigeon da kine here and there brah, or perhaps see a spam musubi or Rubbah slippahs in a 7-11 once in a while, or an adobo chicken platelunch at McDonalds, or maybe even indulge in a tasty Leonards Bakery malasada. ::sigh:: ...You know, its the little things, i guess.
2. You are a dancer in a particular field I am only a tiny bit aware of and that’s only because of you. Can you explain the field and what you derive from it?
Hey thanks for asking. I'd love to!
There are 7 styles of cl assical da nce in I ndia; Odis si, which originates from the eastern state of Or is sa, is perhaps the most ancient of the traditions with archeological evidence suggesting a 2,000 year old lineage. And happens to be my favorite. =)
It was a deeply spiritual art influenced by Bud dhis m, Tan trism, Sai vism, and Va isn avis m and performed by temple da nce rs or M ah ari's who danced as a ritual or offering to God, or Jag ana th*. (The orgin of the word" jug ge rnaut" actually.) It was a dance of love that regailed the relationship between human and god, man and woman, the earthly and divine. (R adh a and K rishn a in the sacred G i ta Go vi nda)
The M aha ris, or De vad asis, not only danced, but were also trained in 64 arts, were learned, property holding and passed down their traditions and holdings in a matril ineal tradition - highly unusual in Ind ia at the time. However once revered, Ma haris, became tormented by an influx of vic torian ethos upon the arrival of foreign col onists: and their ka m a s utra inspired arts were all but extinguished until the recontruction period of the 1950's when 4 gurus virtually recreated this nearly extinct artform through painstaking efforts and research; studying ancient and examining ancient text, pa lm-l eaf manuspcripts, caves, and temple sculptures.
My teacher's guru was one of these four -(all now deceased.) He was the son of the last Mah a i's which is a very special tradition to inherit and an honor for me to now get to learn.
Anyway, that was some history. To describe the actual dance is hard. There is very fast complex, rythmic footwork that reminded me a bit of tap dancing the first time i saw it. While the torso moves gently and softly from side to side and the hands make intricate hand gestures
(Top gesture is called "brh ama ra" used to indicate bees for example and the bottom gesture is "ma yara" which sometimes is used to make peacocks)
which are like a sign language. They're all based on a 12th century treatise called The Abi nha ya Darpa na and are used to tell the stories of the G it a Gov inda in Odi ss i abi naya acting pieces. (Which embellish upon the N aty a Sh st a, the original bible of Ind ian Dnce.)
Many of the songs will start slow and sensuously and increase in tempo until a dramatic vigorous end. The movement will often stop and be punctuated by a single position that is held in a sculpture-like position which i love. I think the stillness gives you a pause to reflect on the beauty of the shape and then makes the energy of the crescendoing rythym all the more dramatic.
It incorporates and codifies the complicated movements of the entire body and face: chin/eyebrow/eyes/feet/toes/hips/waist/knees/hands - there are hundreds of intricate positions all detailed and named. Learning it all is challenging for my faulty memory. I have alot to brush up on. Alot i neglected. But i like the challenge. The history. The complexity.
The passion.
The energy.
I like the way it feels. The goal of ascention....
Maybe its the yogi c, tan tric principles falling into my bones, maybe its the creative expression, maybe its the merging of art forms: visual, music, sculpture and movement. I'm not sure. (My teacher said her guru used to paint with his dance choreography. )
Mostly i like connecting with an audience and most ideally (if they enjoy it) gifting them with an experience or ride. My goal would be to work on this connection and embellish it until i could be an excellent story teller through dance.
On sociopolitical level, i wouldn't mind challenging our conception as to what a "dancers body" looks like. I'd like to demonstrate and model that not only bones are beautiful, but that grace and beauty comes in all sizes. I'd like to give pause and provide an opportunity for normal women (greater than 100 pounds) to see themselves through someone else in a way that's complimentary and lovely.
*jug· ger· naut
Pronunciation Key n.
*jaga nath
3. Have your politics changed since Sept. 11? If so, how?
Not really actually. If anything they've been more reinforced. My concerns validated.
4. Has the internet brought people closer together or made it easier to maintain isolation?
That's interesting. How would you answer this, i wonder?
I'm sure it varies, but i can't help but think we've been increasingly isolated since..... i dunno... since we became Americans? Independance, individuality, competition: you know -all that highly venerated stuff.... Subtlely but surely there seems to be forces that exert pressure that pull us apart, both from each other and ourselves. If some contradictory longing arises, we flagellate ourselves for being "weak," if we live in mutually dependant communities, or don't want to win at the expense of others, we're less advanced or sophisticated. It means we can't afford a re-enforced gate and alarm system. Somehow, i think we were destined for widescale alienation long before the net was ever a glint in Apple's eyes. If anything, its unprecedented universal appeal reflects and fills a dire pre-existing need.
(i think)
5. Why do you blog? What do you get out of it?
Erm. See number 4? hehehe.... I long for community. Connection. Meaningful relationships beyond myself. This blog is an outstanding methodology towards achieving that. (Or at least, a great tool.) Its fun. Its interesting. It will be neat to look back over the years and see where i've been. It puts a face on my anonymous existance.
6. What bad habit do you have that you wish you didn't?
Seeing myself as "Victim." Filtering things through a persecuted lens and reacting in a way that comes from a position of powerlesness rather than strength and self-assurance. Woe is me, woe is me gets so old after a while.. Know what i mean?...
That and wearing dirty clothes.
___________________________________________________________________
Well, there you have it...RP's interview... Thanks so much RP!!! That was good fun.
(Even if i did write completely unreasonably long responses.) =)
The biggest surprise.
Hmmmm.
That's a hard one because i had so few expectations.
When I met my BF online (a blog reader) everything happened so fast. I barely had time to think about New York before i arrived at its gate. In a way, i think we both needed it that way so we couldn't talk ourselves out of our starry eyed, lovestruck inspiration - being so prone to overthinking and worry that we are.. Once bitten twice shy? Then probably we more closely resembled gnarled squeaky chew toys than people: protecting what was left in our bottled up, cloistered, wounded keeps.
Maybe i'm surprised by how much i love it. How much NY has to offer. How many exciting places and people and terribly interesting things to do there are. But i haven't done them yet so i don't really feel qualified to speak of that yet.
Most importantly, i'm surprised by how deep a connection i've made with this once distant entity (D) known only to me through words.
Its kinda amazing really ~from blog to lover in 60 days.
What do you miss most about Hawaii?
Although you might expect to hear that i miss the year round summer weather, tropical beaches, or the laidback island mentality, i think actually what i really miss the most is simply the comfort of familiarity: knowing where things are, where i am, what's around me, what the people are like, what i'm doing, the routine of work and coworkers and and how to get around.
I don't know why.
It seems terribly lame when i reflect upon it.
Maybe its a sign of something bad. Maybe its the first step on a slippery slope towards getting old and resistant to change - stuck in my ways and unable to adapt.
Actually, now that i think about it, i felt the same way when i first moved from the Westcoast to Hawaii. I experienced a lasting culture-shock of sorts that didn't fully subside for years. The language, the envirornment, the lifestyle, the mentality - everything was different from the Pacific No rth wes t. And prior to that - i also recall having felt uncomfortable at college my first 2 years. A strange town, new streets. "Where's the grocery store? How do i get to the this street?"
Maybe i'm slow. Maybe i'm stubborn. Maybe i'm just afraid.
What's strange though, and totally ironic - is the perception of the people who "know" me. I'm applauded for boldness and admired for bravery. "I could never do what you do," they say when they speak of various choices i've made.
Isn't that crazy?!
Its so totally untrue. And i'm not being humble. Its simply not true. I'm a class-1 grade-A weanie! But i do try to ease my fear of fear, and self-validate by remembering
"Courage is not the absence of fear, it is pushing on despite it."
That said, i wouldn't mind hearing a little local pigeon da kine here and there brah, or perhaps see a spam musubi or Rubbah slippahs in a 7-11 once in a while, or an adobo chicken platelunch at McDonalds, or maybe even indulge in a tasty Leonards Bakery malasada. ::sigh:: ...You know, its the little things, i guess.
2. You are a dancer in a particular field I am only a tiny bit aware of and that’s only because of you. Can you explain the field and what you derive from it?
Hey thanks for asking. I'd love to!
There are 7 styles of cl assical da nce in I ndia; Odis si, which originates from the eastern state of Or is sa, is perhaps the most ancient of the traditions with archeological evidence suggesting a 2,000 year old lineage. And happens to be my favorite. =)
Anyway, that was some history. To describe the actual dance is hard. There is very fast complex, rythmic footwork that reminded me a bit of tap dancing the first time i saw it. While the torso moves gently and softly from side to side and the hands make intricate hand gestures
which are like a sign language. They're all based on a 12th century treatise called The Abi nha ya Darpa na and are used to tell the stories of the G it a Gov inda in Odi ss i abi naya acting pieces. (Which embellish upon the N aty a Sh st a, the original bible of Ind ian Dnce.)
Many of the songs will start slow and sensuously and increase in tempo until a dramatic vigorous end. The movement will often stop and be punctuated by a single position that is held in a sculpture-like position which i love. I think the stillness gives you a pause to reflect on the beauty of the shape and then makes the energy of the crescendoing rythym all the more dramatic.
It incorporates and codifies the complicated movements of the entire body and face: chin/eyebrow/eyes/feet/toes/hips/waist/knees/hands - there are hundreds of intricate positions all detailed and named. Learning it all is challenging for my faulty memory. I have alot to brush up on. Alot i neglected. But i like the challenge. The history. The complexity.
The passion.
The energy.
I like the way it feels. The goal of ascention....
"even a modern Odi s si dancer still reaffirms the faith of the dev ada sis or mah ari s where they sought liberation or mo k sh a through the medium of dance."
Maybe its the yogi c, tan tric principles falling into my bones, maybe its the creative expression, maybe its the merging of art forms: visual, music, sculpture and movement. I'm not sure. (My teacher said her guru used to paint with his dance choreography. )
Mostly i like connecting with an audience and most ideally (if they enjoy it) gifting them with an experience or ride. My goal would be to work on this connection and embellish it until i could be an excellent story teller through dance.
On sociopolitical level, i wouldn't mind challenging our conception as to what a "dancers body" looks like. I'd like to demonstrate and model that not only bones are beautiful, but that grace and beauty comes in all sizes. I'd like to give pause and provide an opportunity for normal women (greater than 100 pounds) to see themselves through someone else in a way that's complimentary and lovely.
*jug· ger· naut
Pronunciation Key n. - Something, such as a belief or institution, that elicits blind and destructive devotion or to which people are ruthlessly sacrificed.
- An overwhelming, advancing force that crushes or seems to crush everything in its path: “It doesn't assume that people need necessarily remain passive when confronted by what appears to be the jug gernaut of history” (Ch risto pher Lehm ann-Ha upt).
- Ju gg erna ut Used as a title for the Hi ndu dei ty Kr is hna.
*jaga nath
Jug rn au t \Jug"ger* na ut`\, n. [Skr. jaga nn[=a]tha lor d of the world.] One of the names under which Vis hn u, in his incarnation as Kris hna, is worshiped by the Hin doos. [Written also Jug ge rn nat h, Jag an ath, J aga nat ha, etc.]
Note: The principal seat of the worship of Jug ger naut is at P[^u]ri in Or iss a. At certain times the idol is drawn from the temple by the multitude, on a high car with sixteen wheels. Formerly, fanatics sometimes threw themselves under the wheels to be crushed as a sacrifice to the god.
3. Have your politics changed since Sept. 11? If so, how?
Not really actually. If anything they've been more reinforced. My concerns validated.
4. Has the internet brought people closer together or made it easier to maintain isolation?
That's interesting. How would you answer this, i wonder?
I'm sure it varies, but i can't help but think we've been increasingly isolated since..... i dunno... since we became Americans? Independance, individuality, competition: you know -all that highly venerated stuff.... Subtlely but surely there seems to be forces that exert pressure that pull us apart, both from each other and ourselves. If some contradictory longing arises, we flagellate ourselves for being "weak," if we live in mutually dependant communities, or don't want to win at the expense of others, we're less advanced or sophisticated. It means we can't afford a re-enforced gate and alarm system. Somehow, i think we were destined for widescale alienation long before the net was ever a glint in Apple's eyes. If anything, its unprecedented universal appeal reflects and fills a dire pre-existing need.
(i think)
5. Why do you blog? What do you get out of it?
Erm. See number 4? hehehe.... I long for community. Connection. Meaningful relationships beyond myself. This blog is an outstanding methodology towards achieving that. (Or at least, a great tool.) Its fun. Its interesting. It will be neat to look back over the years and see where i've been. It puts a face on my anonymous existance.
6. What bad habit do you have that you wish you didn't?
Seeing myself as "Victim." Filtering things through a persecuted lens and reacting in a way that comes from a position of powerlesness rather than strength and self-assurance. Woe is me, woe is me gets so old after a while.. Know what i mean?...
That and wearing dirty clothes.
___________________________________________________________________
Well, there you have it...RP's interview... Thanks so much RP!!! That was good fun.
(Even if i did write completely unreasonably long responses.) =)
"Whither the hand goes, the glance follows,
Whither the glances lead, the mind follows,
Whither the mind goes, there the mood follows
Whither the mood goes, there is Ra sa born."
......... A bhin aya Darp ana
Sunshiney Sunshine
I'm embarrassed to admit how prominent a place this blog has come to take in my life: how much i depend on it to connect to the outside world, how much i need it to confront, explore and express my feelings about things. Particularly when it appears i'm read at length or an multiple occasions by any one particular person. I track my visits like a crazy fiendish hound. I watch for comments the way a UFO zealot scans the sky.
Its powerful when i hear from people!
JM and Omega's recent comments made my day and when Sunshine wrote in her blog
it suddenly transformed my waning confidance in writing into a renewed desire to try. Just the thought that wiggling my fingers about this laptop might stimulate thoughts or disucssion somewhere else, out there, :::motioning dramatically into the great beyond:::: expands me beyond myself: my bubble. Oh yes, i know its a very low-bar i speak of: akin to kicking a dog or throwing a water balloon (maybe a bit less hostile), but nonetheless - its where i'm at.
Its what i have.
And for now, i'm fine with that.
Its powerful when i hear from people!
JM and Omega's recent comments made my day and when Sunshine wrote in her blog
But i read this one girl's page, indigo blues part II, we'll see if I can figure out how to link things. I don't know...I liked her deep inward turned positive thoughts.......So reading on and on, I ran into this link to what it means to be an indigo or violet or something. Actually, I explored the wholesite, and i'm still not real clear what it's all about or what it's implying. But there was one page I found particularly interesting. It was about "crystal children". Such an interesting version of evolution. I enjoyed the mental exercise. Again...we'll see how I fare at entering links on here. But then I want to ask, that indigo girl what that name means. ..
it suddenly transformed my waning confidance in writing into a renewed desire to try. Just the thought that wiggling my fingers about this laptop might stimulate thoughts or disucssion somewhere else, out there, :::motioning dramatically into the great beyond:::: expands me beyond myself: my bubble. Oh yes, i know its a very low-bar i speak of: akin to kicking a dog or throwing a water balloon (maybe a bit less hostile), but nonetheless - its where i'm at.
Its what i have.
And for now, i'm fine with that.
RP's Interview Questions
Very cool. On-line interviews! How fun! I fully support it!
So, here are my questions from RP.
1. Leave a comment requesting an interview.
2. The first five commenters will be the participants
3. I will respond by asking you five questions.
3. You will update your blog/site with the answers to the questions and leave the answers as comments on my blog.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.
(Write your own questions or borrow some.)
So, here are my questions from RP.
1. What was the biggest surprise to you about coming to NY? What do you miss most about Hawaii?I'll post on them in just a moment. But meanwhile, would you like to be interviewed too?
2. You are a dancer in a particular field I am only a tiny bit aware of and that’s only because of you. Can you explain the field and what you derive from it?
3. Have your politics changed since Sept. 11? If so, how?
4. Has the internet brought people closer together or made it easier to maintain isolation?
5. Why do you blog? What do you get out of it?
6. What bad habit do you have that you wish you didn't?
Interview
Here are the rules :1. Leave a comment requesting an interview.
2. The first five commenters will be the participants
3. I will respond by asking you five questions.
3. You will update your blog/site with the answers to the questions and leave the answers as comments on my blog.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.
(Write your own questions or borrow some.)
Diet Disease
I've read a bunch of "diet blogs" lately. Although i think i may get a bit "triggered" by them sometimes, i find myself still reading: gawking on the side of the road: wanting to call out, "Don't do it! Run! Save yourself now! Before its too late!" They're so incredibly sad. I hate to dash the hopeful Weight Watcher enthusiasts furiously counting points and celebrating their "progress." But it feels like a speeding train rushing catastrophically to certain doom. It drives me CRAZY when they refer to themselves as BAD when they eat and GOOD when they eat less calories. Is your worth as a human being dependant on a diminutive physical body size? Talk about a collective mind-fuck. What a mess.
But i'm sure the multi-billon dollar diet INDUSTRY doesn't mind. Do they?
But i'm sure the multi-billon dollar diet INDUSTRY doesn't mind. Do they?
Mar 29, 2005
Mar 24, 2005
You Are What You Do?
Or so it seems.
And what if you do nothing? Are you nothing?
Dispensable?
Valueless?
Unworthy?
What if you produce nothing? -Have nothing to show for yourself: no fruits of your labor - nothing to authenticate your efforts as a human being? What if you reject the worker bee mentality? What if you prefer to contemplate the universe? What if you have a day off?
Does the emptiness of the open space send you into a frenzied tailspin of self-flagellation and grief?
If not, then how do you you determine your esteem?
And what if you do nothing? Are you nothing?
Dispensable?
Valueless?
Unworthy?
What if you produce nothing? -Have nothing to show for yourself: no fruits of your labor - nothing to authenticate your efforts as a human being? What if you reject the worker bee mentality? What if you prefer to contemplate the universe? What if you have a day off?
Does the emptiness of the open space send you into a frenzied tailspin of self-flagellation and grief?
If not, then how do you you determine your esteem?
Mar 22, 2005
Auntie Evelyn isn't eating
She refuses visits. Iits my Dad's chemo week, and my great Uncle just died of lung cancer. Good news abounds.
"So full of grace"
Eyes wide, munching on my very own special bag of crunchy buttered popcorn, sucking on my very own special over-priced diet coke: I love sitting alone in darkened theaters, anonymous and still. Lost in the flickering before me. Surrendered. I get to dissapear.
Yesterday i saw a phenomenal movie. Phenomenal, but agonizing. And when i left i felt great pain that lingered on. I appreciate being sensitive and easily moved, but despise my aggravating proclivity towards sadness. This is why i used to protect myself from sad movies and the news. But to have guarded myself from this movie would have been a real loss.
I was surprised to find that the movie wasn't really about boxing at all. Actually, it was about love, loss, and broken people mending fragile dreams. Boy, could i relate! I bawled and bawled and afterwards spent a good 10 minutes in a bathroom stall pulling myself together before daring to sneak out of the theater and calling a cab.
Yesterday i saw a phenomenal movie. Phenomenal, but agonizing. And when i left i felt great pain that lingered on. I appreciate being sensitive and easily moved, but despise my aggravating proclivity towards sadness. This is why i used to protect myself from sad movies and the news. But to have guarded myself from this movie would have been a real loss.
I was surprised to find that the movie wasn't really about boxing at all. Actually, it was about love, loss, and broken people mending fragile dreams. Boy, could i relate! I bawled and bawled and afterwards spent a good 10 minutes in a bathroom stall pulling myself together before daring to sneak out of the theater and calling a cab.
Pedestrian Pursuit
I still feel like i have nothing say: as in - nothing of value to anyone else. I suspect i have zero following (with the exception of Hannah, my BF and once in a great while Elizabeth.) Not that they don't count, but, maybe by this point they read me due to obligatory routine or habit as opposed to the fundamental worth or relevance of what i now have to say.
Not intellectual or probing, not even particularly clever or amusing: I hear the staid nature of my sentences: the lusterless repetition: the irritiating misuse of colons. Yes, trivial and flimsy - piddling around in the shallow end of the pool am i.
So what's the point? Even the mirror of self-examination is now blurry: ostensibly the backbone (i think) of what i once had to offer(??)
Living in a couplet requires a new accountability.
Once a flagrant dumper, i've tried to leave that sort of haphazard stewing behind since it would have personal reprecussions that would far supercede any potential value that might come from some internal exhumation or on-line confessional. Not that there was ever really any genuine malice in what i wrote before, (though i may have sounded pretty hostile sometimes.) But, my goal was to explore, in real-time the progression of my thoughts/feelings in the absence of judgement or self-censoring. I still like this idea. But, by writing down nasty thoughts or otherwise unattractive feelings, there is the sort of comitment made that could indellibly affect someone we love. There's a reason why we don't spew each every fleeting thought in real life afterall.
In real life, we do all ebb and flow, adjust and reconsider. We contradict ourselves. We wage internal battles between thoughts and feelings, conscious and unconscious, acceptable and unacceptable belief systems. But what we don't do is put those battles on display and expect real life partners to ignore them or not be dereteriously affected. Its hard enough to sort out or own thoughts, so how could we expect someone else to mediate that tangled labryinth and correctly interpret the serious from the fleeting, the slander from the bonified stances?
They can't.
There's no way.
It's impossible.
I guess that's why a diary is a diary, a client/therapist privacy is sacred and my blog *was* anonymous. So, now that its not, how do i still make it work? I guess i really don't want to quit. But, i do have a deep need to feel as though i'm being authentic.
Know what i mean?
Not intellectual or probing, not even particularly clever or amusing: I hear the staid nature of my sentences: the lusterless repetition: the irritiating misuse of colons. Yes, trivial and flimsy - piddling around in the shallow end of the pool am i.
So what's the point? Even the mirror of self-examination is now blurry: ostensibly the backbone (i think) of what i once had to offer(??)
Living in a couplet requires a new accountability.
Once a flagrant dumper, i've tried to leave that sort of haphazard stewing behind since it would have personal reprecussions that would far supercede any potential value that might come from some internal exhumation or on-line confessional. Not that there was ever really any genuine malice in what i wrote before, (though i may have sounded pretty hostile sometimes.) But, my goal was to explore, in real-time the progression of my thoughts/feelings in the absence of judgement or self-censoring. I still like this idea. But, by writing down nasty thoughts or otherwise unattractive feelings, there is the sort of comitment made that could indellibly affect someone we love. There's a reason why we don't spew each every fleeting thought in real life afterall.
In real life, we do all ebb and flow, adjust and reconsider. We contradict ourselves. We wage internal battles between thoughts and feelings, conscious and unconscious, acceptable and unacceptable belief systems. But what we don't do is put those battles on display and expect real life partners to ignore them or not be dereteriously affected. Its hard enough to sort out or own thoughts, so how could we expect someone else to mediate that tangled labryinth and correctly interpret the serious from the fleeting, the slander from the bonified stances?
They can't.
There's no way.
It's impossible.
I guess that's why a diary is a diary, a client/therapist privacy is sacred and my blog *was* anonymous. So, now that its not, how do i still make it work? I guess i really don't want to quit. But, i do have a deep need to feel as though i'm being authentic.
Know what i mean?
Mar 20, 2005
Auntie Evelyn is in ICU
"She called 911 last night," the 2 sentence email simply said.
The woman who refused to see a doctor for nearly all of her spritely 90 plus years of life called 911.
I can't believe it! When finally after all these years i was going to get to see her and spend that quality time she's always asked for and would have given me if only i had made it happen. Its my fault. Mine completely. I've neglected her my entire adult life and now i'm going to lose her. There's so much i could've learned from her. So many questions i have about who she is, where's she been and nearly century of her experiences. So many secrets about life that she's been ready to impart to me - if only i'd taken the time to receive them.
I wanted her to meet Dave.
I wanted him to meet her - to hear the infamous Auntie Evelyn laugh that tumbles easily and as hearty as a child: true and pure: full of life: enveloping even the hardest of cynics with contagious delight.
And now..... ? The difference of 10 days.
I'm not ready for her to die.
The woman who refused to see a doctor for nearly all of her spritely 90 plus years of life called 911.
I can't believe it! When finally after all these years i was going to get to see her and spend that quality time she's always asked for and would have given me if only i had made it happen. Its my fault. Mine completely. I've neglected her my entire adult life and now i'm going to lose her. There's so much i could've learned from her. So many questions i have about who she is, where's she been and nearly century of her experiences. So many secrets about life that she's been ready to impart to me - if only i'd taken the time to receive them.
I wanted her to meet Dave.
I wanted him to meet her - to hear the infamous Auntie Evelyn laugh that tumbles easily and as hearty as a child: true and pure: full of life: enveloping even the hardest of cynics with contagious delight.
And now..... ? The difference of 10 days.
I'm not ready for her to die.
Mishap In Manhatten
Since i'm intimidated by the city and unsure of how to get around there, i've only been so bold a few times thus far, despite my strong desire to experience all that Manhatten has to offer. But desparate times require desparate measures, and this performance was one i could not possibly allow myself to miss. I was anxious to see what they were doing, how their style compares to my guru's, possibly connect with the director and emmerse myself in the beloved art form of which i am now estranged. And so i ventured alone via subway into Manhatten to see a performance at the Ru bin Museum of Art by the only company in New York that performs the same dan c e that i studied so many years before Hawaii.
It "should" have been simple enough to find, but due to an uncanny knack for effing up the simplest of directions, i spent two distressed hours of frantic searching while bemoaning my pitiable luck and glaring menacingly at conspiring streetsigns. I tried to minimize my disgust and use postive self talk: "i guess it just wasn't meant to be," "maybe there's a reason for this," "look at this as an opportunity to enjoy the city sites." But i'd been REALLY looking forward to seeing this performance for months!
Finally, after discovering certain details re: improperly juxtoposed street addresses and whatnot, i corrected my direction, walked many, many, many inconceivably loooooooong blocks and entered the promised land, the museum! I was not even deterred by the protestors holding signs requesting that i not go in because the Museum "stole art from Tibet."
Oh Great. That's just beautiful. Now i'm hatin on Tibet. Wonderful.
As if that wasn't enough, the perverse universe wanted to slap me down, A-GAIN, and nearly thrwarted my efforts when some frosty, unfeeling totalitarian undersexed museum clerk shmo looked at me funny, puckered her lips and condescendingly explained "The show started at 3."
YES I AM QUITE AWARE OF THAT, i wanted to scream in her intolerably sour face.
Instead i smiled apologetically and pleaded with her, earnestly explaining how i had spent many hours getting there and had lost my way. Unimpressed by my appeal, she dismissively waved me away. "Next," she summoned.
OHHHHHH NO YOU DON'T LADY
I don't care if i only see 5 minutes of this dang performance, i didn't come all this way to be turned away!
And so i mischeviously moved to the other line. And whadya know?! This museum clerk ROCKED! He generously accepted my $25 bucks and snuck me into the darkened theater an hour and half late. God was i glad to rest my crippled feet after pounding up and down the pavement like a flummoxed hamster in a tube. And i even got to see 2.5 dances! It was so worth it. Even if it took multiple subway mistakes and 2 additional hours of lost time trying to get home.
Ah well. Next time i'll do better!
That's how we learn, right?!
It "should" have been simple enough to find, but due to an uncanny knack for effing up the simplest of directions, i spent two distressed hours of frantic searching while bemoaning my pitiable luck and glaring menacingly at conspiring streetsigns. I tried to minimize my disgust and use postive self talk: "i guess it just wasn't meant to be," "maybe there's a reason for this," "look at this as an opportunity to enjoy the city sites." But i'd been REALLY looking forward to seeing this performance for months!
Finally, after discovering certain details re: improperly juxtoposed street addresses and whatnot, i corrected my direction, walked many, many, many inconceivably loooooooong blocks and entered the promised land, the museum! I was not even deterred by the protestors holding signs requesting that i not go in because the Museum "stole art from Tibet."
Oh Great. That's just beautiful. Now i'm hatin on Tibet. Wonderful.
As if that wasn't enough, the perverse universe wanted to slap me down, A-GAIN, and nearly thrwarted my efforts when some frosty, unfeeling totalitarian undersexed museum clerk shmo looked at me funny, puckered her lips and condescendingly explained "The show started at 3."
YES I AM QUITE AWARE OF THAT, i wanted to scream in her intolerably sour face.
Instead i smiled apologetically and pleaded with her, earnestly explaining how i had spent many hours getting there and had lost my way. Unimpressed by my appeal, she dismissively waved me away. "Next," she summoned.
OHHHHHH NO YOU DON'T LADY
I don't care if i only see 5 minutes of this dang performance, i didn't come all this way to be turned away!
And so i mischeviously moved to the other line. And whadya know?! This museum clerk ROCKED! He generously accepted my $25 bucks and snuck me into the darkened theater an hour and half late. God was i glad to rest my crippled feet after pounding up and down the pavement like a flummoxed hamster in a tube. And i even got to see 2.5 dances! It was so worth it. Even if it took multiple subway mistakes and 2 additional hours of lost time trying to get home.
Ah well. Next time i'll do better!
That's how we learn, right?!
Mar 19, 2005
Hurt/revenge/anger/relief
i want you to feel the pain i feel. i want you to feel it so you can empathize and stop hurting me
and acknowledge it
and apologize
and take responsibility for your actions
it will bring you relief
and release your guilt
and shame
and acknowledge it
and apologize
and take responsibility for your actions
it will bring you relief
and release your guilt
and shame
Nice Words
http://randompensees.blogspot.com/#108869289496278205
2004/07/01
Some overdue thank you's are in order
I have been linked to by some very smart people and I owe them a thank you note, which they will get, and a link on my page (because they are deserving, not because they linked to me first) which I will do soon. But, before I add them to my list, I want to thank them publicly and call your attention to them (in no particular order) as they are all worth a visit: Irish Elk is a beautiful looking page with fantastic pictures integrated with smartly written text; Zya's Ramblings is an interesting page written by a poet/accountant who is a Portuguese/American/Aussie going to University in Australia; Hannah's Collection is the work of an American IT student living, studying, loving, and growing up in the Netherlands; Indigo Blues is a page that veers from the comic to the searingly sad as this woman, cloaked in anonymity, writes openly, movingly, and beautifully about her life and struggles and hopes for the future; Photojournaliste is a blog by a Canadian who works internationally as a photo-journalist. Thank you all for finding me "link worthy"!
2004/07/01
Some overdue thank you's are in order
I have been linked to by some very smart people and I owe them a thank you note, which they will get, and a link on my page (because they are deserving, not because they linked to me first) which I will do soon. But, before I add them to my list, I want to thank them publicly and call your attention to them (in no particular order) as they are all worth a visit: Irish Elk is a beautiful looking page with fantastic pictures integrated with smartly written text; Zya's Ramblings is an interesting page written by a poet/accountant who is a Portuguese/American/Aussie going to University in Australia; Hannah's Collection is the work of an American IT student living, studying, loving, and growing up in the Netherlands; Indigo Blues is a page that veers from the comic to the searingly sad as this woman, cloaked in anonymity, writes openly, movingly, and beautifully about her life and struggles and hopes for the future; Photojournaliste is a blog by a Canadian who works internationally as a photo-journalist. Thank you all for finding me "link worthy"!
Food
my primary relationship is with u
he will leave me, refuse to commit, change his mind, place demands
demands that i can't meet
demands that piss me off
demands that i feel don't relate to me
its insecure and unstable, frightening and unguarateed
but you will always be there for me
you create an illusion that makes me feel good
you support me and "say" the right things
knowing you are always there comforts me
u distract me and give me something to think about, focus on besides my pain and loneliness
you make me feel not alone
will always be there for me
will never leave me alone
you make me safe in the world
allow me a place to express myself, be heard and work out my thoughts
provide relief in an anxious, stressed out, angry world,
a heartless, cold, unfeeling, abusive world
yes, you make me feel loved
validate me
make me feel like someone
somebody
smart and clever, sexy and cute, interesting
like i have something to contribute,
something have value to the world,
something that makes me feel worthwhile
u touch my throat,
create a warm sensation inside,
help me relax and fall asleep
i can feel u,
u are real and inside of me,
you fill me up
he will leave me, refuse to commit, change his mind, place demands
demands that i can't meet
demands that piss me off
demands that i feel don't relate to me
its insecure and unstable, frightening and unguarateed
but you will always be there for me
you create an illusion that makes me feel good
you support me and "say" the right things
knowing you are always there comforts me
u distract me and give me something to think about, focus on besides my pain and loneliness
you make me feel not alone
will always be there for me
will never leave me alone
you make me safe in the world
allow me a place to express myself, be heard and work out my thoughts
provide relief in an anxious, stressed out, angry world,
a heartless, cold, unfeeling, abusive world
yes, you make me feel loved
validate me
make me feel like someone
somebody
smart and clever, sexy and cute, interesting
like i have something to contribute,
something have value to the world,
something that makes me feel worthwhile
u touch my throat,
create a warm sensation inside,
help me relax and fall asleep
i can feel u,
u are real and inside of me,
you fill me up
Size what?!
PS: I FREAKED THE FUCK OUT when Winter picked out a pair of pants for me to try on, (i only own 3 and they're getting pretty baggy.) Last time i checked i was pushing size 16 and crestfallen when i got my first 18. Anyway, i tried these on and i couldn't believe that even though they were form fitting, they didn't look horrible! I took them off and read the tag: SIZE THIRTEEN. What tha?!
"That can't be right!!!" I yelled through the stalls to my Personal Stylist, Winter.
"THAT IS TOTALLY IMPOSSIBLE. THERE IS NO WAY!"
"Yes girl, i knew there was somethin funny when you said 14-16. I can just look at you and tell."
"WHAT?!?!?! WHat?! WHAT?!?! THAT CAN'T POSSIBLY POSSIBLY BE RIGHT! I CAN NOT BELIEVE THAT. THERE IS NO WAY."
I made her get another pair of 13's to show there was some kinda error but what the hell! They fit too!!! What?!?!? Then i made her show me where she got them. THE JUNIOR DEPARTMENT, and i really fell out. I went from an 18 to a 13 without even knowing?!!????
"That can't be right!!!" I yelled through the stalls to my Personal Stylist, Winter.
"THAT IS TOTALLY IMPOSSIBLE. THERE IS NO WAY!"
"Yes girl, i knew there was somethin funny when you said 14-16. I can just look at you and tell."
"WHAT?!?!?! WHat?! WHAT?!?! THAT CAN'T POSSIBLY POSSIBLY BE RIGHT! I CAN NOT BELIEVE THAT. THERE IS NO WAY."
I made her get another pair of 13's to show there was some kinda error but what the hell! They fit too!!! What?!?!? Then i made her show me where she got them. THE JUNIOR DEPARTMENT, and i really fell out. I went from an 18 to a 13 without even knowing?!!????
Just So We're All Clear
I don't think so honey.
I fact, I don't think you're here at all.
I am.
Not you.
Me.
If you were **always here***hugs**smiles**, then i would see you because i am sitting three feet away from him, currently doing **our** laundry.
I massage his aching injured back each night.
Not you.
I cook him tasty nutritious meals each night: save the cinnamon, eggplant and double the spicy.
Not you.
I massage his feet to increase the circulation in his uncomfortably numb toes.
Not you.
I walk to Pathmark 4 times a week in all weather and strain under the weight of his groceries and two cases of diet coke.
Not you.
I pick up his medicines from the pharmacy and mail his letters at the post office each week.
Not you.
I buy him therapeutic gifts to ease his relentless pain. I bring him him sugarless candies to boost his spirits. I learned to play his computer games to keep him company. I encourage him when he is down. I hold him when his is in pain. I hug him when he is sad.
Not you.
I do this because I would do anything to make his life better - to afford him any trace of greater comfort or happiness or peace.
Not you.
I touch him. Laugh with him. Argue with him. Make up. I endure the sourness and regail the joys. I hold him naked in the night and smooth his hair. I dream with him and discuss **our** future **together**.
Not you.
And while yes, its true you two did fuck that one lonely week in times past- and fondly you will "never forget", I, on the other hand, am not an empty distant bootycall.
I am here. Now.
Not you.
And when he looks at me, he makes love.
And each time we make love, the connection deepens - the tenderness - the desire - the intimacy - the trust.
The love.
And incidentally, just so you know, I don't plan on going anywhere.
I fact, I don't think you're here at all.
I am.
Not you.
Me.
If you were **always here***hugs**smiles**, then i would see you because i am sitting three feet away from him, currently doing **our** laundry.
I massage his aching injured back each night.
Not you.
I cook him tasty nutritious meals each night: save the cinnamon, eggplant and double the spicy.
Not you.
I massage his feet to increase the circulation in his uncomfortably numb toes.
Not you.
I walk to Pathmark 4 times a week in all weather and strain under the weight of his groceries and two cases of diet coke.
Not you.
I pick up his medicines from the pharmacy and mail his letters at the post office each week.
Not you.
I buy him therapeutic gifts to ease his relentless pain. I bring him him sugarless candies to boost his spirits. I learned to play his computer games to keep him company. I encourage him when he is down. I hold him when his is in pain. I hug him when he is sad.
Not you.
I do this because I would do anything to make his life better - to afford him any trace of greater comfort or happiness or peace.
Not you.
I touch him. Laugh with him. Argue with him. Make up. I endure the sourness and regail the joys. I hold him naked in the night and smooth his hair. I dream with him and discuss **our** future **together**.
Not you.
And while yes, its true you two did fuck that one lonely week in times past- and fondly you will "never forget", I, on the other hand, am not an empty distant bootycall.
I am here. Now.
Not you.
And when he looks at me, he makes love.
And each time we make love, the connection deepens - the tenderness - the desire - the intimacy - the trust.
The love.
And incidentally, just so you know, I don't plan on going anywhere.
Wants
To be able to drive aimelessly (explore), leave the shower curtain open after showering, keep the toothpaste pushed up, fall asleep in my clothes, leave the computer on at night, put pictures on the walls, rearrange the furniture, watch lots of movies, sleep with the puppy, buy a filing cabinet & desk, use the dishwasher, remove the framed picture of The Cutie and his last girlfriend on our fridge (she died).
Hey you there
What's your fucking problem. You can't take no for answer? Inappropriate and inconsiderate at best, it doesn't take a brain surgeon to see your relentless creepy stalking. Take a fucking hint and start your own life most importantly thereby leaving us alone. Its difficult to express just exactly how sick you continue to make me.
You had your time.
Now its over.
So do us all a favor, (including yourself)
Move the fuck on.
Before I vomit
Do I need to break it down more clearly for you?
Jesus.
Enough.
You had your time.
Now its over.
So do us all a favor, (including yourself)
Move the fuck on.
Before I vomit
Do I need to break it down more clearly for you?
Jesus.
Enough.
Mar 17, 2005
Halleluiah!!
Praise the @#$!* Lord!
(Because i'm actually a 12 year old trapped in a 31 year old body)
(Because i'm actually a 12 year old trapped in a 31 year old body)
Mar 16, 2005
Which fits you? (if any?)
| 1. | I walk down the street There is a deep hole in the sidewalk I fall in I am lost, I am helpless It isn't my fault It takes forever to get out |
| 2. | I walk down the street There is a deep hole in the sidewalk I pretend I don't see it I fall in again I can't believe I am in the same place But it isn't my fault It still takes a long time to get out |
| 3. | I walk down the street There is a deep hole in the sidewalk I see it there I still fall in....it's a habit My eyes are open I know where I am It is my fault I get out immediately |
| 4. | I walk down the street There is a deep hole in the sidewalk I walk around it |
| 5. | I walk down another street |
Mar 13, 2005
Egads
Sorry i haven't posted much lately. I just don't have much to say really. But, at least i've put some time into spiffying up the aesthetics here. This black background and gold print is the latest. It sure is time consuming to do when you don't know what you're doing!
Its getting down to the countdown which makes me a bit anxious. One final unemployment check and then i'll be cut off. The State of Hawaii says NO MORE FUNDAGE for Indigo.
I certainly can't complain. Its afforded me the greatest most relaxing rest of my adult life and perhaps made it possible for me to move out to New York to meet and live with Dave. What more could a person ask for?! Some people might begrudge me, but like my therapist said in her last email to me, "You worked your butt off and deserve a rest. Good for you." (That was reassuring.) Afterall, if anyone knows me, it would be her. Its touching that she still stays in touch with me although we've both moved onto new chapters of our lives. Her to Atlanta to finish her PhD and i to New York.
Its also the countdown for leaving to pursue dance for a month on the West Coast with my former teacher. I still have mixed feelings. Can i afford this? Is it the right time? Is it worth it? Am i fooling myself? Do i still love it as much as i used to? Is it practical? Would i forgive myself for not pursing it? Can i allow myself to not do it? Will Dave diapprove of me if i go?
I really need his support. I don't know if i can do it without him. I don't know if i'd want to actually.
::sigh::
I suppose its not much to worry about. I should relax and forget about it. Right?
But what will i do when i come back? What kind of job will i find? How will i start? What can i/do i want to do? How will i get there? I still have no idea how to get around. Its all so intimidating.
I'm nervous and afraid. (As usual) Big deal, what else is new?
Its getting down to the countdown which makes me a bit anxious. One final unemployment check and then i'll be cut off. The State of Hawaii says NO MORE FUNDAGE for Indigo.
I certainly can't complain. Its afforded me the greatest most relaxing rest of my adult life and perhaps made it possible for me to move out to New York to meet and live with Dave. What more could a person ask for?! Some people might begrudge me, but like my therapist said in her last email to me, "You worked your butt off and deserve a rest. Good for you." (That was reassuring.) Afterall, if anyone knows me, it would be her. Its touching that she still stays in touch with me although we've both moved onto new chapters of our lives. Her to Atlanta to finish her PhD and i to New York.
Its also the countdown for leaving to pursue dance for a month on the West Coast with my former teacher. I still have mixed feelings. Can i afford this? Is it the right time? Is it worth it? Am i fooling myself? Do i still love it as much as i used to? Is it practical? Would i forgive myself for not pursing it? Can i allow myself to not do it? Will Dave diapprove of me if i go?
I really need his support. I don't know if i can do it without him. I don't know if i'd want to actually.
::sigh::
I suppose its not much to worry about. I should relax and forget about it. Right?
But what will i do when i come back? What kind of job will i find? How will i start? What can i/do i want to do? How will i get there? I still have no idea how to get around. Its all so intimidating.
I'm nervous and afraid. (As usual) Big deal, what else is new?
Mar 11, 2005
"ba da da da da...I'm Lovin' It"
MCDONALDS is like sooo cool!! They have this new ad campaign that SO connects with me. Its like, HIGH ENERGY, and HIPHOP, and just so ME. I mean, if they weren't down with me, how could they make this ad that i saw the other day? Not only does it speak my language, but it wants me to get funky with my burger. I mean, how hot is that!? Dammmmmm
Mar 10, 2005
Glazed Over
Ever feel as though you are in bubble? And nothing else exists?
The past few days have been like that: peaceful, mediative, still. My mind feels emptied, cleared of bothersome debris. But, with this soothing comes a catch. The expurgation may have inadvertantly stripped away a thing or two i ought to have remembered.
But i don't know. My slippery mind is mush.
The past few days have been like that: peaceful, mediative, still. My mind feels emptied, cleared of bothersome debris. But, with this soothing comes a catch. The expurgation may have inadvertantly stripped away a thing or two i ought to have remembered.
But i don't know. My slippery mind is mush.
Mar 7, 2005
1 step back, 10 steps forward
What did Fredick Douglas say about "No struggle, no progress"? Well, inevitably every journey worth taking will have setbacks and difficulties. And that's okay. I'm okay. I won't worry. I won't get upset. I certainly won't give up. Instead, i'll pick myself up, wipe of my knees and march on. I've come a long ways, and have faith that i can continue. I will continue. Addictions are hard to break. They exist for an important reason; survival. And changing patterns of any sort requires major mental and emotional re-wiring which doesn't happen over night. In the Eating Disorder group, a relapse was more aptly referred to as a "Learning Day;" a day that may not be exactly what we want, but valuable nonetheless. To be examined, processed and most importantly forgiven.
The bottom line is; change does happen. And is happening for me. The following signs of "relapse" are simply that. A flicker that quickly subsides, making way for Recovery and Health.
Increase in obsessive thinking about food and weight Wanting to be in control all the time Perfectionistic attitudes Wanting to escape from stressful situations Feeling hopeless about work, relationships or life Believing you will be happy and successful if thin Feeling of being "too fat", even though people say otherwise Wanting to isolate Unable to use your support systems Being dishonest with those helping you about your symptoms Looking in the mirror often Daily weighing Avoiding certain foods because of the calorie content Purchasing mostly diet foods Skipping meals Excessive exercising Wearing only loose fitting clothes Thoughts of suicide Feeling disgusted with oneself after eating
The bottom line is; change does happen. And is happening for me. The following signs of "relapse" are simply that. A flicker that quickly subsides, making way for Recovery and Health.
Mar 6, 2005
"This is what you shall do: Love the earth and sun and animals, despise riches, give alms to everyone that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants ... re-examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul, and your very flesh shall be a great poem."
~Walt Whitman
Mar 4, 2005
Pinned Hopes
So, this is it.
The moment we've been waiting for - dreading.
We're here.
In this hospital again.
In this hospital again, on this floor, in this room, with these nurses, saturated in peculiar medical funk, for we hope, the 5th and final time.
Morning talk shows drone on from above.
Familiar nurses surround us.
Speaking.
"You know this will hurt David,"
He nods, and placidly looks on as they ease the blood engorged IV into his vein.
Weathered.
He knows the routine well, and does not cringe or move when they bobble and blunder.
He signs papers, answers questions while they take his vitals and rates his pain on a scale of 1 to 10.
"11?" She quips.
"6," he patiently replies.
"11?" she tries again, chuckling.
Unaffected, he sits. Calm. Reposed.
She checks his blood and frowns.
"What did you eat today?! Your sugar is high!" She scolds him.
"Nothing," he protests. I want to defend him and explain what she should already know.
The doctor stops by.
He explains that "this time it won't hurt so much since i''ll be sucking things out instead of applying pressure like last time."
He turns and asks good-naturedly, "is that okay with you?" I absently grin and nod too many times.
"Keep smiling!" he chimes as he departs and i wonder where he went to school, how well he studied and if he knows what he should know how to do.
And then it is just he and I.
Sitting.
Waiting.
Passing the final time.
Making tight jokes.
I trying not to cry.
Eventually, several years later though many days too soon,
the mint-green man appears and gives the sign.
He wheels my love away.
Who smiles.
"Bye! Have fun!" My final lame attempt at non-humorous ironic humor.
"Goodbye."
The moment we've been waiting for - dreading.
We're here.
In this hospital again.
In this hospital again, on this floor, in this room, with these nurses, saturated in peculiar medical funk, for we hope, the 5th and final time.
Morning talk shows drone on from above.
Familiar nurses surround us.
Speaking.
"You know this will hurt David,"
He nods, and placidly looks on as they ease the blood engorged IV into his vein.
Weathered.
He knows the routine well, and does not cringe or move when they bobble and blunder.
He signs papers, answers questions while they take his vitals and rates his pain on a scale of 1 to 10.
"11?" She quips.
"6," he patiently replies.
"11?" she tries again, chuckling.
Unaffected, he sits. Calm. Reposed.
She checks his blood and frowns.
"What did you eat today?! Your sugar is high!" She scolds him.
"Nothing," he protests. I want to defend him and explain what she should already know.
The doctor stops by.
He explains that "this time it won't hurt so much since i''ll be sucking things out instead of applying pressure like last time."
He turns and asks good-naturedly, "is that okay with you?" I absently grin and nod too many times.
"Keep smiling!" he chimes as he departs and i wonder where he went to school, how well he studied and if he knows what he should know how to do.
And then it is just he and I.
Sitting.
Waiting.
Passing the final time.
Making tight jokes.
I trying not to cry.
Eventually, several years later though many days too soon,
the mint-green man appears and gives the sign.
He wheels my love away.
Who smiles.
"Bye! Have fun!" My final lame attempt at non-humorous ironic humor.
"Goodbye."
Mar 2, 2005
Dream
I had a dream about RP last night. I visited him and his family who lived part-time in an unrealistically large motor home. It was so comfortable and homey in fact, there was no tangible indication that it was actually a vehicle at all. That is until I became aware that RP was driving with tremendous velocity up an impossibly narrow road. It was a steep and windy hill that we were on when we approached a hair-pin turn. Surely he'll slow down, i thought to myself. But to my horror, we continued barrelling on only to find ourselves facing head-on into oncoming traffic. Seemingly unperplexed, RP casusally diverted our certain demise by veering off the road. At this point i suggested that i take over driving to which he easily agreed. However, when i began to drive, instead of finding myself at a steering wheel looking through a windshield pushing pedals, i found that the monstrous RV was controlled by mouse clicks and the outside world could only be viewed through a computer monitor. I was disoriented and frightened. How could i lead us all to safety in such strange and foreign circumstances?
Displeased
I'm bummed out.
Soon to be broke.
And my unemployment runs out in 2 checks, so i found out today.
Now what am i going to do.
What a drag.
How can i leave when i haven't yet found a job.
Not like i wanted to leave D for a month anyway, but....
Back to the real world i guess.
Back to the grind, the drugery the machine. Back to being a cog in the machine.
Soon to be broke.
And my unemployment runs out in 2 checks, so i found out today.
Now what am i going to do.
What a drag.
How can i leave when i haven't yet found a job.
Not like i wanted to leave D for a month anyway, but....
Back to the real world i guess.
Back to the grind, the drugery the machine. Back to being a cog in the machine.
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