Lists and Letters

Dear Mom, 

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.

And I love her so much

And  I miss her always

And will hold her within me forever.

Thoughts On Assisted Suicide and Other Things

Things that run through me brain.

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.

Because I CAN.

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. 

Anyhoo those are my thoughts for today...

Sometimes...There Is Just Not Enough Wine

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....

What I'm Reading? Watching? Listening???

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:


1.  Call the Midwife: A Memoir of Birth, Joy, and Hard Times : MEMOIR

  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.

2. The Best American Short Stories 2012 :  SHORT STORIES

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!!

3. The Secret Speech(The Child 44 Trilogy) : NOVEL

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.

4. Rotten: No Irish, No Blacks, No Dogs:  MEMOIR

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.

5. The Lady with The Dog : SHORT STORY

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.


6. A Grief Observed : Essay/Memoir

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.

positively absolutely

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.

Jiminy Cricket!!!! In My House!!

There's a cricket in my house.

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!!!

TROOFS.