Then I headed down the streets
And somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringing
And it echoed through the canyons
Like the disappearing dreams of yesterday
On a Sunday morning sidewalk
Oh, I'm wishing, Lord, that I was stoned
'Cause there's something in a Sunday
That'll make a body feel alone
And there ain't nothin' short of dyin'
Thats half as lonesome as the sound
Of a sleepin' city sidewalk
And Sunday mornin' comin' down
I was listening to some Kris Kristofferson this morning while making coffee. It's on vinyl that my Grandmother gave to me. There is something so wistful in a lazy Sunday morning.
And 2015 is on its' way...coming with a force. The changes of the past
year in my own life have been so vast, so crazy in some ways I almost
don't know what to think.
I used to feel lonesome on Sunday mornings, but not anymore.
Warm warm bodies loving touch, fresh coffee, pancakes, purring cats, lazy pants and bathrobe, watching Breaking Bad(yeah I'm a newbie to it), hum of a dishwasher, cuddles, writing,Sunday supper of lentil soup later on.
I'm new to this relationship thing. I feel like I don't always know what I'm doing, because I've made so many mistakes in the past. This time is different though.
My heart is so full of so many things these days. Dreams, hopes, love, joy...
I've
learned so much about myself this year though, how I can survive
emotional abuse, how I can manage to make ends meet with barely a dime,
how to try to be comfortable in my own skin. There are so many things
in my life that haven't made sense in a long time.
When you're in love with someone wonderful, you just want to tell everybody how great it is all the time. And for me right now, it's great. I didn't know what was missing, these emotions. (I'm an emotional creature) and I'm sitting here writing this watching as my cat is cuddled next to Jamie. Now this cat is a Mama's girl. She cuddles with me and pretty much only me. Now she seeks him out to snuggle. It makes me so happy to know that my precious little kitty-girl loves my man as much as I do.
And for all those out there who've experience bad past relationships, when you finally meet someone who is real and wants to be with you, who makes time for you, doesn't play games, and is man enough to take you on with all your own insecurities...well then you know you've hit the jackpot.
Age means nothing. There are 50 year olds less mature than some 24 year olds. These are the things you learn in life.
2015 is going to bring some incredible events and I can't wait...because there's just something in a Sunday.
Many of you know that I struggle during the winter. The bleakness, the cold, the short days...I've tried so many things.
Vitamin D, exercise, alcohol...but no matter what there is just something so blah about cold grey leaf-less days.
Life is a fragile balance of so many different things, and I'm a huge worrier. I worry about every freaking thing. It's a problem.
I keep waiting for a better day, a new day, one where I won't have these concerns and will have some modicum of peace.
Because I haven't really felt peaceful in a very long time.
When you're a female living alone, taking care of yourself, juggling these huge responsibilities sometimes you get caught up into a terrible cycle of worry.
Mostly worries about money. But there are other things too. People deal with life in different ways, some turn to drugs, some turn to religion, others just waste away.
I think that I turn inward mostly. I try to escape into myself. Isolate myself, because I worry that when I'm in this state no one will want to be around me at all. I'm not used to anyone trying or taking care of me. So when I meet someone who does care about me, I'm like those shelter dogs who have been living on the street scrounging in the garbage cans, I'm wary of anyone who reaches out with their hands.
And I've learned that somehow, I always land on my feet no matter what. So what is the whole point of this? Isn't that the real question?
Next week is Thanksgiving. It's the second without you. I don't want to say that life is easier now, but I've stopped expecting to hear you call my name, or listen for your feet on the steps.
And I've met a wonderful man. You would really like him. He is strong, kind and funny. He would make you laugh AND take out the trash(if you asked nicely). He only wants to make me happy and take care of me, and he knows how to make your grandson laugh.
This man has known loss and knows how to take care of himself and others.
He's
a good cook and loves to hike, just like you did. He makes me feel
safe and protected. But just like you, he's an awful speller which
makes him more endearing to me. There are so many things I wish I could tell you... twenty times each day I go to call you to tell you of my happiness and it kills me that I can't. So I write you these letters that other people will read, hoping, praying that somehow you may know all these things.
I saw a woman and her daughter in Target tonight and it made me cry, I missed you so much. Your touch on my hair, your laugh at silly things, your funny little ways, the way you made so much noise at 7AM when I was sleeping and you'd bang the cupboards shut in the kitchen.
When I hold my little niece, you're granddaughter I wonder how many times you held me and imagined all the wonderful things that my life would bring. How I would grow, what my personality would be, who I would love, who would love me, how I would make my mark in the world...and even now all the wonderful things you did for me. How you cared for me as a little one sick with asthma, or rocked me to sleep, rubbed my back and kissed me goodnight, all the stories read and songs you sang to, when I would reach out and touch your hair...the stories you told of my own life. Those things of legend. My legend, such a part of you. People don't understand what it means to lose a mother, a body that is such a part of your own, how I grew inside of you and caused you such pain and pleasure in one. How it's strange not to be a part of another person the way I was a part of you.
I dream about you ....I hope you see me and can say, "Look at my daughter, she's full of joy and happiness, I hope all her dreams are coming true."
Love,
Sarah
~~~~~~~~
And there are many other things I would love tell her...but cannot write here.
It's late...or early depending.
I haven't written anything on here in a month. And WHAT a month!
Time changes so much, and it changes it fast.
I'm over here making lists. Lists that I can't discuss...yet, but they are grand lists, great lists. Lists that I wish I could share.
And this is what I have to say to all those who are scared and afraid of life, it only takes a moment to turn something around. To meet a new person, to maybe fall in love.
That's right, sick, sappy, sweet, oh-my-god-you-two-make-me-sick four letter word.
The clarity that comes to a person after meeting someone who makes their world bright and amazing, just throws light on all the past dark relationships making them seem cold and awful. I've learned so much about myself and my own potential. How I'm hoping for so much, and he's hoping for so much and we're on the same page and it's just AMAZING.
Yeah, I'm one of those people now.
How am I different? Sheesh, I'm not different I'm just better.
~~~~~~~~
Heartbreak. I've had so much loss. I was due for some good. For someone who wouldn't emotionally abuse me and make me feel small. Someone who wouldn't tell me that I needed to get away from my family. Or tell me that I'm too emotional, or crazy, or morbid or any of those terrible things that were pumped into my head.
My family is my heart. I watch my little nephew Crosby. Life for him is new and full of surprises, I just pray that he will know how much I love him always.
And my precious lady Beatrix, who cries when I leave her--she has stolen my heart in so many ways. She says "happy" now and I think my heart might explode. I just love that Trixie my sweet little pal.
~~~~~~~~~
My own hopes and dreams ... a someday full of new people, my little people. And she is always there in my dreams....a beautiful ghost, haunting me in her ethereal way. She kisses me while I sleep and once I woke and swore I felt her touch my hair. Maybe we never really die, but explode into some brilliant gorgeous fireworks dancing in the sky, all full of all life, love and everything in between.
I was so afraid to meet someone, knowing that she would never be there to tell. Never know how I feel, but inside I feel that she does know somehow.
coffee, must have coffee, dog must go out and pee, feed cats, feed dog, coffee, make coffee,coffee is cooking too slow, ahhh coffee. clean clothes, do I have any clean underwear, where are my socks, dog must go out and poop,dog needs more water, breakfast, what should I eat, need to be healthy, eat more salad, eat more vegetables, stop watching tv, coffee, eggs, need to make some eggs. Eat more salad. eat healthy, live longer, don't die...coffee
You can see how this goes...of course it changes a bit as the day goes along of course.
I've been trying to eat more salad, can you guess? So far I've had it for about three days in a row. A big, healthy bowl of greens, peppers, olives, cucumbers, egg, turkey...some chia seeds.
Why is it so much easier to eat a bacon cheeseburger? I want to know this! But I guess that we can only do the best we can.
I've read that when people are depressed they have to start with small goals.
My goal is: Get out of bed. I count it a good day when I can pull myself out of my bed. Having pets helps with this because they are always needing something. Plus my cat will menacingly stare over me and prod me with her paw until I get her some crunchies.
Stress kills by the way. As a group, we people seem to think that we always have to put forth this brave front all the time, this desire that we are fighting or succeeding.
Guess what...none of that matters.
So I've been following Brittany Maynard's story and I find it to be interesting for several reasons.
Now, I do not have a terminal disease, but one day I will die. I can understand why someone would choose not to go through the treatment for a disease that is untreatable. I get not wanting to suffer. But I do not understand the term Death with Dignity.
This term just underlines a very American attitude towards death. Americans are ASHAMED to die young. That's right. Because we have this can-do, will-do way of thinking and place so much on what we consider "success" vs "failure" when our body "fails" beyond our control we feel ashamed.
Ashamed that we are not healthy enough, ashamed that our family and friends may have to face our death and think about their own, ashamed that we are letting others down.
I don't know Brittany's motives, frankly I don't really care what she chooses to do. Either way, death is not an easy nor dignified thing. Dying with a full head of hair vs wispy grey chemo hair is the same thing...the pain is the same, the struggle is the same.
I just want to tell people, THERE IS NO SHAME IN DYING.
Dying is the most natural thing, we all do it. There is dignity in every death. There is dignity in every death. I really wish that Americans could start to view this thing called dying in a non-clinical, I've failed kind of way...
See people are afraid to talk about death. We don't like to be reminded of how fragile we are, or the pain that we may feel, or the pain that our loved ones will feel. Death can never be sanitized. We think that we are in control of so many things, but we are not.
And some may say that it is not dignified for a dying person, to lose control of their bladder and have their three children crowd around her bed and clean her up. But I think that is the most dignified a person can get, to accept such help, to feel such love, to be so...human.
No matter what Brittany Maynard decides to do because it is her body, not mine. I just hope that she knows there is no shame in getting cancer even before you turn thirty.
1000 views on this blog.
THIS blog is brought to you by RED WINE and VODKA...and caffeine.
Not good, but not terrible considering I do absolutely nothing to advertise it.
So people are out there in the world reading what I've got to say. I picture y'all on your Phablets or iPads...clicking at the drivel.
But honestly, c'mon most of you read those awful Buzzfeed "articles" which I'm beginning to think are written by about twenty monkeys in a room somewhere with a massive server, hunkered down with trucks of bananas in some over-priced Brooklyn hovel.
I'm a writer. Or at least that seems to be my chosen hobby. I write stuff.
Now, there are some really great things out there being written and posted by people, but there are also some self-serving blogs du jour. I don't read them--on purpose.
But what really matters in this life ya know? Importance in the grind, the running on the wheel, the great surrender to all things blah.
We are all supposed to grow up someday, right?
What if we chose not to grow up? What if I choose to continue to think with the openness of my young brain(well maybe younger than it is now). Well, I believe the world would be a better place.
I'm not an overtly social being. I don't claim to have mucho acquaintances. But the people I choose to be a part of my life, while not many are the people that I would do anything for, go anywhere with and ultimately love the most.
Most of us have experienced failed relationships. Romantic, friendships, co-workers...etc.
I used to focus a bunch on my own failings. WHAT WENT WRONG??? I would plague my thoughts with that question.
Now, I've decided to think, what went right? Let me 'splain.
Every end of something, relation-wise has made me examine my own sense of self, who I am, what I want in these short years. After this last ending, I know what went wrong, but I started thinking about what I did that was right, what felt good vs what felt bad. Because the next guy I meet, I want to recognize that good stuff. I'm on the lookout for those good thoughts/feelings.
I am NOT religious...anymore. In fact, I sincerely believe that religion is what has put a wedge between people and God. But, in the my religious upbringing we were taught about how wrong we were. How we fell so short of holiness, goodness and how nothing in us was good except for God.
The years it has taken me to overcome such early indoctrination of my own worthlessness has been many that's for sure. The thing is, the kindest most accepting and honest friends I know and love are not the types I was raised with. They best friends I have, don't have anything to prove. And trust me they vary in religion and belief. And THANK God, that they don't all think the same.
Just like when I realized that I was basically dating the same guy over and over again, at one point I realized my friends were the same. They thought the same as me, wanted the same things, had the same goals...same political beliefs.
and look those are all natural good attributes in friendship, but when you surround yourself with people of the same ilk. (and you know how you define yourself) then you are limiting so much in yourself.
If I only spent time with white, middleclass, christian females...what the heck? My life would be so dismal and boring!!
Think outside the box. Challenge yourself a bit. Travel somewhere unknown. Grow your brain. Be open.
Here's a story for ya.
When I was 13, I met some folks and we started to talk about music. Now, these kids were a few years older than me, boys(who I thought were cute) and two girls my age. I knew nothing about popular music. I'd spent the past couple months listening to as much Bob Marley I could get my hands on. And I didn't talk about it, I didn't know anyone else who liked Bob Marley except my parents. Plus I was afraid people would think I was a pot head.
So there we were sitting round a campfire...and when they asked me what music I liked this was my reply,
-Oh, well...I guess I like Celine Dion.
Okay, I was so afraid that they wouldn't know who Bob Marley was, or that they would laugh at me for being a total nerd with pink glasses and frizzy hair that I lied. Yup. I lied 100%. I lied because I thought one of the guys was cute and I wanted to appear feminine. It was the type of thing the other girls were saying and I didn't want to appear strange. And since he kissed me, maybe it worked who the heck knows?
Sometimes, I wish that I could go back to that night and say, how much I love reggae. He probably would've thought I was super odd. I mean this was the early nineties. It was many years before I openly talked about my reggae obsession. (Check out this reggae roots 80 min of music!) And if it's your thing burn up da herbs.
So what the hell am I getting at?? I was embarrassed that I didn't fit in to my own demographic. 13 year old girl listening to Celine and whatever boy band du jour was around. I learned to never lie about myself. Sheesh, this was 21 years ago and I still feel bad about it. But life is for learning no?
Here's my challenge: Are you demographically closed? Are all your friends clones? Do you think outside your philosophical box...ever? Try. Just try to do it.
Whine that title out...puh-lease. This is not pretty.
C'mon hasn't that happened to you? Finish a bottle of wine, want more but realize that you've had too much to drive and the liquor store is closed anyway?
OK so maybe I'm strange.
But, I am also watching, Old Yeller. That's right, best doggone dog in the west. I AM a masochist. I know how this movie ends. We borrowed it from the library on VHS and my Mom, Erik, Sonja and I sobbed watching it. But I just can't resist. I'm feeling nostalgic tonight.
If we could be more honest about life, feelings, all kinds of things, I believe that our stress would melt away. But, I'm lucky.
I'm poor. No, really I'm under the poverty limit. But the thing is, I don't care. I'm managing in a way I've never managed before. In this poverty that I'm experiencing, I've been learning so much about life and I'm being taught about truths that cannot be learned or taught in a class or from a book.
And what does all this mean? Well, that is the million dollar question isn't it?
Here's my thinking: Most art, true, gut-wrenching art(music, writing, painting) comes from folks who've been through the worst in life. You know why?
Those people are so in tune with the emotions needed to create, the intense variation of life.
Most artists that I know, do not live off their parent's credit cards, or abundance. Most great artists struggle to be able to have the time and space to create. Most have day jobs that they barely tolerate just so they can have the right head space to create...Artists do it because the have to...there is no other choice.
Kind of like animal-lovers. We can't help but have cats and dogs because our lives are not complete without them. And see I observe my own age-group. We've been handed a heck of a lot of things from our parents and have gotten used to a comfortable life. Sure there are so many things stacked against us too, not as many opportunities, inflation, higher taxes, incredibly high student loans...
Where the heck am I going with this? Too much wine, but not enough.
Aw what the hell...I'm getting involved with Ole Yeller. Everything comes down to impressions,
he's an ugly yeller dog
But hey, he ain't an ugly yeller dog, he's a purty yeller dog.
Someone's ugly yeller dog might be another's purty yeller dog. And this is how I feel about the creative world...hell, this is how I feel about love.
My man might be an ugly yeller dog to you, but maybe he's a purty yeller dog to me.
But who cares? Impressions, social media spinning. For the USA the country of individuality, there seems to be an awful lot of conformity.
Cause in the end aren't we all just going to catch Ebola and shit ourselves to death?
Or contract some Hydry-phoby.
I really hope that no animals were harmed in the making of this film, Disney corporation....
My greatest dream is to read all the books on Harold Bloom's Canon. I've hit quite a few on it, but have many to go. Not to mention, I like to read other "newer" works also.
I find that whenever I get a bit of writer's block(which is not frequent) I can always stir up my mind by reading. Kindle, while not as tactile as the real paper and cardboard has served me so well over the past few years. Mainly because I read more than one book at a time. I've been working on my own memoir and so I find myself drawn to the art of creative non-fiction. Here is my list of several books that I've been absorbing into my brain over the past week or two:
I am of course reading this because I love the show. And of course books are always ten times better than TV. Jenny Lee was a midwife in the East End of London during the 1950's and her memoir makes me sob like a baby(that's a good thing chickens!)
What I enjoyed: The humanity of people struggling to live moves my heart, and spurs me on in my own life.
No folks, the short story is not dead. It lives on as a fabulous art form still. I admit that I read this one because it was included in the new Kindle Unlimited. I was also drawn to it because Tom Perotta was one of the editors...and I love his books.
What I enjoyed: The diverse selection of writers and styles, some stood out more than others. NO the short story is NOT dead!!
This is the second book in the series. Tom Rob Smith crafts a great Soviet era thriller that makes me want to swig back some Stoli and nosh on some caviar, blinis, and Borscht. Since this is a trilogy, I suggest reading the first book, Child 44. I could not put it down. This book isn't as easy to get into but is also a good read. Plus, I hear that it is becoming a movie...
What I enjoyed: The suspense and mystery, the dark Soviet Kruschev KGB world.
I have no idea why I read this book. I have never been a huge Sex Pistols fan or anything, but I started the preview on my Kindle and was drawn into this tale of the making of a modern artist. He tells this story with biting wit and honesty...some of my favorite attributes. I wonder what other fascinating tidbits it will include. John Lydon has another memoir coming out this month too.
What I enjoyed: The descriptions of growing up in poverty in London and every non-Sex Pistols part. Also I prefer artists who are real, candid, and did not fall into it through the trappings of middle-classdom...the artists who've paid their dues per se. John Lydon please adopt me.
Chekov at his finest. Why are there so many fabulous Russian authors out there? I mean these guys really knew how to craft a fascinating tale. If only I could read Russian!!
What I enjoyed: The sensual nature of this story, and c'mon he is Chekov! I want to write like this guy.
When CS Lewis began to pen this short tome, he was trying to make sense of his own emotions. I wanted to read this earlier, but avoided it due to my own desire not to read about other's grief. However, this book made me cry and I recommend it for anyone.
What I enjoyed: He pretty much calls God a Sadist...my thoughts at times.
CS Lewis. Man...I love him which brings me to the music of another Lewis. Jenny Lewis.
Just One of the Guys(cause I'm also "just another lady without a baby") I am loving this entire album called Voyager, which I really need to get on vinyl.
Sidenote: Jenny Lewis was in this great movie that played on the Disney channel back in the 80's(when that channel had substance) called A Friendship in Vienna
Here is is the FULL movie on Youtube!! Watch it! You won't be disappointed.
Listening to The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars, on vinyl, sipping from a glass full of vodka and seltzer, folding laundry, baking a pumpkin cheesecake, gorging on green curry with shrimp take-out, my mind on exes and where we all went wrong, wanting a chocolate milkshake, watching some shadow float across the ceiling, communing with the ghost of death in my house, slipping into sweet sleep to dream about the dead and wake to still be living. Five years, Mr. Bowie
And I thought of Ma, And I wanted to get back there, your face, your race, the way that you talk, I kiss you, you're beautiful, I want you to walk,
Seems I'm always in a mood to jot things down on Sunday nights. Yeeeeaaaah. Sunday nights are when I categorize my upcoming week into things to be accomplished, things to bunk off, time to waste, time to not waste....bills to pay, bills to not pay
stuck to my eyes, five years
what a surprise
we've got five years, my brain hurts a lot
five years, that's all we've got, we've got five years
one month has disappeared into a new season. Seasons affect me differently, time marked, denigrated in a whole new way. I don't enjoy this "new way" that I've developed. I get into this periods where I just want to be that saxophone scream, to be my voice out there, the metallic screech so un-decipherable, so understandable. SCREAM into nothingness and hope that some echo returns to me that means something, anything. All I have is my love of love... and love is not loving But really, I'm just waiting for a new person to thrill me to my fingertips, make things not boring, and all the men I know are B-O-R-I-N-G. With their jobs and their fake little suburban lives, be different do something...just change your life. I am also boring, but at least I own it. freak out, far out, in out Watched a soccer game today, and it's just pointless running around on a field, kicking a ball into what??? some goal?? to win? Like football what the...? But it's this euphemism for life, right? The game. Oh well, I guess I just don't want to be bothered by the bull shit. Let all the children boogie So rip open my heart again, do it. Make me think for once, why, don't I just do whatever the hell I want. But I'm going too...I am. Well all the people have got their problems, that ain't nothing new with the help of the good Lord we can all pull through Please, have my abortion. I smiled sadly for a love I could not obey I'm thinking about your tight pants life, how I make them tighter. Walk, tightrope walking, carnivals, circus, open eyes, massive elephants hitting the ceiling...representatives. I could fall asleep at night as a rock and roll star, I could fall in love all right as a rock and roll star Right, so who's going to understand this BS? I certainly do NOT. Royalties, jokes, writing about sex, not getting sex, creepy old men, watching young girls without a clue. They called out to me once, thank god I'm smarter than that. Well, she's a tongue twisting storm I enjoy the storm, causing a twist with my tongue, people don't know what to think. Offend me. Tell me how awful I have become. Because I don't give a damn. Ziggy played guitar Doesn't everybody? Ohh, wham bam thank you ma'm Oh boy, do I need to say that to be a real non-pinocchio man? Make sense though of what others think each day, holy shit have I become redundant? I meant to offend. Be honest. Truth is all that matters. Pull away that band-aid on the trophy kids and white fenced manicured lawns, be naked and unafraid.
Oh no love! you're not alone You're watching yourself but you're too unfair You got your head all tangled up but if I could only make you care Oh no love! you're not alone No matter what or who you've been No matter when or where you've seen All the knives seem to lacerate your brain I've had my share, I'll help you with the pain You're not alone
Just turn on with me and you're not alone Let's turn on with me and you're not alone Let's turn on and be not alone I have given up on love and I don't know if that just makes me sad or what. K. West does not equal Quest.
Gimme your hands cause you're wonderful Oh gimme your hands.
Alright Thought I'd give you my...life. To take and hold til death, we go wrong, but You're the posion that runs, the sting, creeping insecto bite the web of, sink those rotten teeth in until the pleasure pulses through my thighs. So, here. we. be. Wanting. Hiding from a piece of peace? a lover of all we, don't you know you tore me apart, tearing me still. this shit, this fuck this fucked. Up. Shit. Taunt me, haunt me, oh spectre erected ghost, come and fuck me in the night half sleeping 'til we are good, spent apes for each other. Those other bites. Grand ole home, in the hole other place brighten the blight of this be-speckled soul. When you're in it, you don't know you are, until you're not. If you think you are then no, I say. You stalking vicious prowler, our love is just fucked.
I first heard it behind my living room sofa while I was writing my last blog post. Now as I sat down on a different sofa to write another blog, there is lil Ling-Ling chirping away(I named him/her Ling-Ling)
I mean do I believe in signs? A cricket in the house is considered "good luck" and goshdarnit!! I need some good luck. Ling-Ling stays.
NO not THAT cricket!
But this kind....
I wonder if Ling-Ling breaks some bread with my cats while I'm at work, but more likely they just try to eat him.
On another wholly unrelated topic....
How many of you out there suffer from the same sickness as I do? RHBS??? AkA Raging-Hormonal-Bitch-Syndrome. Yeah for me it's mainly the hormonal crap...making me eat chocolate(dark chocolate with peppermint) and bacon cheeseburgers from Wendy's while I'm on new eating plan. Right, that's right I did NOT say diet, I said eating plan. This eating plan does not include chocolate or bacon cheeseburgers, and I've lost six pounds already but after this past week of RHBS, I've gained back three of those pounds. But I've been trying to consistently do 100 squats although the past couple days it's been more like 75 of those puppies.
More about this RHBS thing. It hits me ever other month or so right before Antietam week. The thing is, I've tried so many different things to try to control my RHBS. Antidepressants, natural supplements, BC pills, yoga, acupuncture, chiropractic, meditation...but honestly nothing seems to really work long term.
RHBS brings about crazy thoughts of hysterectomies and freezing my eggs. I alternate between wanting a body to cuddle with to not wanting to be touched.
And I've learned that there is no cure for my RHBS. I just have to embrace the insanity and know once I've got the BUS(bleeding uterus syndrome) my RHBS will subside and I will be sweet like a slow loris. (I was going to say a wee kitten, but kittens aren't always sweet, they've got sharp claws.) But at least I've still go my sense of humor...NOW BACK OFF!!!
Fact 1. I was born in West Orange, New Jersey.
Fact 2. New Jersey has been my only legal state of residence.
Fact 3. Up until this past week I had never actually watched an episode of The Sopranos. Yeah...isn't that almost like saying I don't like Taylor Ham or Pepperoni Pizza??? Maybe not.
Of course I know the storyline of this show, how could I not? I even know a few of the places where it was a filmed throughout my state, but I just never watched it. Probably, because I'm not into hype.
Now, Amazon Prime has all the seasons (thanks brother) and I'm hooked. Aside from being filmed in NJ it has been lauded as the best television show EVER by multiple people. Google pulls up multiple recent articles--people are STILL talking about this show, hey I'm talking about it right now.
I laughed when two mobsters go into a Starbucks type establishment and one says,
"An espresso" and the other says,
"I just want some regular coffee."
"What we have today is New Zealand Peaberry." Says the cashier.
So they order an espresso and one-a-doze and it cost $4.25. Seems expensive even for 1999.
Ah the goldchains, wife beaters, track suit jackets, homophobia, loaves of bread and Virgin Marys on the front yards...the sassy nj kid attitude. Hey who wouldn't love having an Uncle Pussy who fixes car?
I'm only a few episodes into Season One and what catches me is how dated this show is now. It was so fresh back in the early 00's along with that other (in)famous HBO rag--SATC. The Soprano home today would be in need of a makeover, no more brass fixtures, light pink-beige cupboards and puffy valances. It's stylized like Mad Men. Millenium style. Except it was actually the time period it features.
And it got me thinking about the days pre September 11, 2001. How those days now live in my memory as such a hopeful time, a brief moment of a new century, then dashed to what???
A Post-post-modern tale of fear, anxiety, war, recession and who knows or even cares...
How The Sopranos caught that pre-moment then the disillusionment following...and maybe that is exactly what made it such a good show...or the writing/acting. Maybe it is New Jersey a diverse and insane state, full of multiple paradoxes, Tony Soprano could be a representative of the state itself.
So bring over the antipast and be a real Jersey girl wid me, I'll do my best to whip up some gabagool!(I don't even know what that is, had to GABAgoogle it!) HA.
Is it the house next door where I lived for fifteen years? My first home of memory in West Orange, on that tree lined street, next door to the mayor? Or is it where I have lived for the past five years. I often try to think where I "feel" home may be in the future.
In a few months, when the house is finally sold and the rooms are empty, I will walk through and say goodbye. Then I will always wonder where my "home" will be.
But since Kate died, I'm not sure where I belong once this place is sold.
At times I long for a husband who would tell say, "Honey, my job is moving and so are we blah blah blah." Then my choice would be made. I would know my place in this world, country, state, town...universe? Or I think, hopefully I will get accepted to certain MFA programs which will dictate where I end up.
There is no comfort in uncertainty. But, hell I haven't felt comfortable in a few years at least. It has been dread, then stress after stress. Uncertainty. And I suppose that NOTHING is certain.
IN the folly of my youth, I believe that I would meet a guy, get married, pop out some kids, you know do all those things that I was brainwashed into believing gave my life value. I thought that I would have my own home by now, that home was defined by a person. You know that thing, Home=where your heart is.
Well, I'm learning where my true home is and it's not quite what I thought.
I never remember being told about women who chose to have a career. Those women who were single and supported themselves seemed to be looked at with a wry sense of pity. This is a religious thing, no doubt. How many times did I hear preaching about the "place of women" in the world. I watched my own mother try to be a good wife, homemaker as suited a good woman of the Lord. I watched it and swore that would NEVER be my life.
My Mom and I used to have long discussions when I was in high school about women choosing to be SAHM versus using their college degree and working. I think she thought I didn't value what she had done to raise me, this is the same woman who when I said I wanted to go to college and I wanted to have four kids, told me I was too selfish to ever have more than two children.
But, I always felt that being tied down that way was akin to a prison sentence. I never could do it. My Mom went back to work when I was in seventh grade. She later told me that she wished that she had gone back to work earlier.
Now, here's the thing choosing like my Mom did is perfectly fine. But so is NOT choosing that. I told a friend the other day, have men ever wondered if they could be a father AND have a career?? I doubt it. They just assume that they can do both.
The church I was raised in did not allow women to pray in public. I never understood that. I consider my religious upbringing to be akin to those raised in a cultish atmosphere. Rarely was I allowed to have friends outside of the church circle. My family didn't have friends outside of the church circle, why would I? And when I say "My family" I really mean my Mom, brother and sister because my Father checked out of that church by the time I was eleven.
He was considered to be a "non-believer" or "apostate" because he chose not to attend those services. And because of this, I was an outsider. Oh, there were several outsiders in my group. I used to strive for a time to be like everyone else, but eventually I accepted my role as a non-functioning part in that strange organism.
I was instructed in the way of absolutes. God is real, powerful, omniscient. The Bible is His Word, the Roman Catholic church is the whore of Babylon, God chooses who will go to Heaven, woman should remain silent and wear long skirts, children need to be spanked often, in order to build their character...it was a Neo-Puritan upbringing.
There seemed to be a pervading understanding that the things we believed elevated us religiously, we had the truth unlike some of those other less doctrinally sound apostate churches. I've been bellowed at, cajoled, manipulated and made to feel terrible from preachers of The Word of God. The odd thing is I'm like a person with Stockholm Syndrome. I still feel at home amongst some of the those teachings and I believe that there are good people still attending that church. But would I ever go back? No. I don't want to be like Proverbs dog and return to vomit. So, I choose to follow my own path. I choose to go with my heart into the uncertainty of belief, the mystery that is faith.
Now, just as there are many oppressive beliefs in this world, there are many empty beliefs. Where does this uncertainty thing come into play? I mean have you ever been 100% positive about anything?
I haven't. So, I have turned this discomfort into a game of sorts. I keep holding on like a card shark, I'm playing the person not the hand I'm dealt. I'm psyching out myself to keep going. And I may never hit a point of peace, or pure bliss. And I'm OKAY with that.
I long for happiness, but know that happiness like it's friend sadness is only a feeling and a feeling doesn't last. And someday all my words and thoughts will be gone into the ether of the otherworld.
Hah, I'd planned to write about relationships.
Note to everyone...do not give single people advice such as: Why don't you try online dating? or If you just enjoy life you will meet someone or It always happens when you least expect it.
No, no and NO. Here comes that uncertainty again. I don't know if I will always be "single". Heck most of those married people won't always be married. Some will be divorced and then single again, then possibly re-married. I guess I'm just tired of others beliefs internally dictating my life.
All my past relationships have ended by my own hand, well except maybe one.
That's right. Men, you think that you choose us women? Nope, here's a clue: we women make the choice every time. We choose not to be with you or to be with you. Some women don't realize that they are the choice makers. Some just self-sabotage things, I have done this. I have also consciously chosen to end things.
A friend told me once that he knew that his girlfriend was the one, he was ready to buy a ring...then she broke up with him.
And I said,"You knew, but she knew too and it didn't happen, so you can never REALLY know." How can you NOT have even a little lingering of doubts?
Because, damnit I have doubts about the things I throw into my grocery cart!!
Shouldn't you have just a small bit of uncertainty in a relationship? If not only to keep it moving and thriving? People think I am a massive failure at romance, hell, I think it too sometimes.
I just cannot seem to find a balance between being too needy and not wanting anyone around me at all. Try living with THAT schizo type of personality. The thing is I've dated a few guys who I know I could have taken things to another level, maybe even married them, but each time I knew in the back of my mind that maybe there was something better.
Okay, better isn't the right word.
I knew I wasn't ready to give up my own desires and ambitions, not that I've accomplished what I want yet.
I know when I'm dating someone if it is going to work out long-term or not. But how much uncertainty is too much?
I just haven't met someone who can be there and give me space when I need it. Those things don't seem to be that difficult right? And the thing is the last guy in my life just had too many red flags for me to compromise, but I tried. I really tried.
Which brings me to an interesting point, I've been told that I'm afraid of commitment. This is not true. I'm just afraid of what comes after that commitment.
And that is why I'm not married, it is my own choosing. I'm no-less suitable than any other woman. I know so many other women who like me have questioned their own desirability, attractiveness, etc. But I'm throwing it out there ladies, if you aren't in a relationship or married or dating, guess what...it isn't because men are bad or terrible. It is because you've chosen not to be. I'm learning to change the way I think.
I used to beat myself up all the time thinking that I had some type of intrinsic flaw keeping me from happiness(because God-forbid that you can be alone and be happy!) How many lonely coupled folks have I met? Far too many.
I don't believe that there is one "soul mate" out there or perfect person or anything like that.
I still believe in love. I'm just not sure what that means, yet.
Aaah Sunday....yes it's gorgeous out there, and here I am inside with my third cup of coffee(small cup of course) because alas tis that season of Ragweed poisoning that hits me EVERY year. No matter what I take(Claritin-D, Allegra-D, Zyrtec the other stuff with the D) my allergies are terrible! I'm talking eyes glued shut, sore throat, earache terrible. But enough about that boring shit.
Friday night my nephew Crosby spent the night. This was his first night away from his Mom(my sister) ever. He is only one. After she left he alternated between an angry cry and quiet little sobs that broke my heart for the first hour. He wore himself out. But then he must have realized that I was taking good care of him because he perked up.
At one point though, all I could think was I can never be a Mom. This thought hit me while be unable to comfort him, and then again while he was kicking me in my sleep. My friends kids showed up at 6 AM, while Crosby was still sleeping. So I whipped up some pancakes(3 different kinds), let them watch some cartoon and I tried to snooze for about an hour before Crosby woke up.
We went to a super nice playground that was full of eager kids in soccer uniforms, tired looking Moms, casual-Saturday Dads and me. I had more kids with me then most of the parents there!
I watched these parents talking to each other, I kept quiet because I just can't banter about school, soccer practice, etc. My life is so vastly different then these people. And some of the parents just sat back watching kids play. I was climbing on stuff, going down slides,(there were a few others doing the same) spinning kids on tires, pushing swings.
The kids wanted McDonald's for lunch<insert unhealthy gasp here> so they got their happy meals and were happy. I came home and began my Saturday cleaning regime. Vacuuming, mopping, swishing the toilet bowl with chemicals....
SO how many of you are wondering what my point is in this post right??? Well here it comes.
I just want to say that for all those single Moms/Dads out there who are raising kids.
I congratulate you to no end.
You've got a tough job. You are my heroes. I include in this any parent who has a spouse that is in the military and currently deployed.
See, I keep an eye on what parents post on Facebook, etc. I see a lot of two parent, stay-at-home Mom's complaints and look, I get it. Raising kids is difficult, but I think a lot of women don't get what other women have to face. I think that being a SAHM is a luxury...and it's a luxury that not everyone can afford.
As women, we live in an advantaged society, never before in history have we had so much opportunity and technological advances. Technological advances being: Electric washers and dryers, microwaves, running water, ovens etc. So here is my point to Mom's across the board(as a non-mother), you've all got a tough job, caring for kids, cleaning, cooking, educating.
But especially to those single-Mom's, you guys are superb. I know many single parents work, their kids are in daycare or go to babysitters and maybe they feel guilty. Here's what I think, you're feeding your kids, putting a roof over their head and teaching them so many things by having a career/job outside the home.
Now if only our country could provide more value to bearing and raising children, like longer maternity leave, affordable childcare, longer school days, better education all around....living wages, healthcare, you know like almost all those other countries that truly value families, and don't just pretend like the USA.
But that is a whole other topic for another day.
I know that I've written about a bunch of personal topics on her over the past few months, but I've never really felt comfortable speaking about my own health.
I am not sure why.
Since Robin William's death, I've seen a ton of posts about depression. As a sufferer of depression I find these posts both annoying and sort of informative. Annoying because I hate to think that depression is the new disease fad, and informative to know that so many others suffer from it.
Now, there are all different types of depression. Clinical depression, situational depression...low-grade depression...
I've been wondering is there EVER a good reason to kill yourself?
Here is where I'm going to get personal.
When I was nineteen, I was first diagnosed with an auto-immune disease called Hashimoto's Thyroiditis, I was also diagnosed with something called Poly-cystic Ovarian Syndrome. These two tend to go hand in hand, and I won't get into the causes of them but I will say that folks may take a quick glance and think, "She's fat/overweight/chubby...etc". Now for most of the population, extra weight is accumulated through poor eating habits and a sedentary lifestyle. But for me, while some of my extra pounds may come through an ice cream now and again, my body seems to be programmed to hold onto fat.
Let me shed some light on Hashimoto's. The body is a complex system of hormones. My body decided that my thyroid doesn't belong so it started producing something called anti-thyro-globulins which attack my thyroid. Now, the treatment for this disease when I was first diagnosed was, just wait until you fall into subclinical hypothyroid state. My TS levels have always been right around the low normal levels. But the problem here is, when your body is constantly attacking itself there are all other symptoms that develop. And it is a roller coaster disease, where sometimes my body over-produces the hormones needed in order to get my thyroid to work. Then it underproduces the same hormones to give my thyroid a break. So I vacillate between heart palpitations, over heating to exhaustion and freezing.
And sometimes, just sometimes I feel OKAY.
Right now I'm in an under active state. I'm achy, my hair is falling out, I'm tired all the time...it goes on and on. And you would think I could just take a pill or something and God, I wish that it were that easy but it's not.
Another symptom? DEPRESSION.
And here's the thing telling a depressed person to "snap out of it" or other trite terms is just the worst thing ever. SO, I've been thinking about Robin Williams offing himself. How does someone who has such accolades, money, fame, family make that decision?
Over the past year I have felt many different emotions
Grief, , uncertainty of my future, worry if I will ever have a long-lasting relationship, worry if I will be able to have a child, stress over careers, fear about lack of money, sadness...
I have lost two parents in the span of eight months. One to cancer, one to prison.
My life is not full of successes, money, awards...hell I can't even seem to find a healthy functional man. And I'm pushing thirty-five, seeing my friends all move on with their lives...weddings, having babies, moving, buying homes, taking vacations...and I am here. Stuck in a dead woman's house, trying to get it ready so someone(anyone) will buy it.
It's been hard not to compare my lack to others and I do it, but I try to be happy for other people. But I know what it's like to have demons, I know what it's like to have silent struggles and suffering. And I have come to the conclusion that even if it is a person's choice to commit suicide--it is never the RIGHT choice. And this is coming from me. As a small insignificant blip in the world, my struggles however personal, are mine.
And here's the rub, we focus too much on ourselves. We think it is wrong to suffer. We've been taught that people need to be positive, cause who wants to be around a downer? But the truth is life is CRUEL at times.
And maybe it's when we focus too much on the cruelty, we fail to see the beauty and the kindness there too. I'm not a positive person. I'm not a negative person. I like to think that I'm a realist.
IN my exhaustion(because I am in a down-swing Hashimoto's phase right now) I'm choosing to push beyond myself. Beyond my depression, because I've found the best way to help myself get out of that is to help other people. To stop focusing on my own "situation" and try not to judge(I feel like I judge too much) and enjoy the little things.
And accept the fact that, I may never have a baby, or make a million dollars, or get married, or travel, or etc etc...my list continues. Because all that doesn't even matter, all that matters is survival. Which is the opposite of suicide....I am alive. That's good enough for me.
Most of you who read my musings know that I love to cook...
Well I've learned a lot about food the past week...but not in a good way!
(and no, I'm not talking about the beer and omelette I ate...but that was a fun combo)
So, Pan told me about this hilarious Instagram called cookingforbae. Now, these are not for the weak of stomach. These photos are some of the most disgusting vomit-like food products I've ever seen...but the comments make me laugh so hard, I cried.
But as I laughed I couldn't help but wonder, what is a bae??? I had to look it up. Bae. Is a shortened form of Babe, cause, you know that extra B is just too much to say.
Oh, so much to learn from this site. I have now added #struggleplate and #struggleslice to my dictionary. You know, a struggle slice is one of those wrapped-up processed cheese products.
In fact, I think in a past-life that stuff was called Government Cheese.
This gov't cheese was mentioned in my new favorite realty TV show-Wahlburgers, and it just began its' second season tonight on A&E. I had caught a couple episodes a few months ago, but thanks to OnDemand TV, I watched the whole series...in two nights. What can I say I was a big fan of NKOTB.
Watching the siblings interact, reminds me so much of my own family. Sure , we didn't have nine kids, but Kate told each of us that we were her favorite child... just like Mama Wahlberg. And my Mom cooked food the same way too. From the sauce, to the chopped suey with noodles and ground beef. the mentioning of English Muffin Pizzas...I couldn't stop thinking about my Mom and her cooking. I was also moved by the competitive nature of the siblings, and the talk of the government cheese.
And this is s a shout out to my family. Over the years I've found that no matter how much we have bickered, fought, competed with each other, when someone tries to mess with any of us, they don't have a chance. I've learned that not every family is like this. In sharing in the grief, I am bonded to my brother and sister in a way I never thought possible. And I love them more than anyone else in the world. I don't know if they realize the extent of that love either. But watching this stupid TV show about a family running a burger place in the Boston area, just reminds me how important family is.
And of course we all know who Kate's favorite was....
