July 14, 2015

Bastille Day 2015

I doubt I have an audience now as it has been several years, and my last post was a goodbye into infinion (or rather, Oblivian). But my heart told me to write this. xx

On July 13th last year before dinner, my dad asked me what I was planning to do tomorrow.  And I went to the white board across from the dining room table and, with the red, white and blue erasable pens, I drew a French flag. Bastille Day! The white board was our new family command post. My dad had recently had a spinal chord injury that placed him in a wheel chair and intense physical therapy. Tomorrow (or today or even later by the time you get this) is Bastille Day.  And it will never be the same for me.

I used to love this French holiday. I don't know what it will mean from now on or how it will feel.  Now it is the day that I woke up in the morning to go to work and went to my dad's bedside to say good morning and found him not acting right, and said so to my mom. The minute I sat down at my work desk I got a call from her that he was going to the ER and to come home. We sat in the waiting room for an hour and then were told he had stopped breathing for several minutes and was intubated. I worried, instantly hating the knowledge I possess about the affect of lack of oxygen to the brain. How many minutes is "several minutes?" I wanted to know but I couldn't ask in the frenzy of immediate action to save him. My fucking dad. They put him in a "freeze" to slow his body function and minimize the impact. Of course I wondered: how is his brain function several minutes in? I can only ask it to myself. My family doesn't dare to ask this question. The doctor tells us he had a heart attack and needs a stent asap, he goes into surgery and survives that very well, in fact, he is coming out of the "freeze" before anticipated. I'm feeling promise of a great recovery. My dad is the fucking giant of "Yes I will!" After all, he grew his nose back, why wouldn't he have an early thaw from a deep freeze? Then they told us about the multiple emboli in his lungs. Those are what caused the heart attack, and for him to survive, they need aggressive and risky medicines to remove them. We met up with him in the ICU and took vigil, all of us, for 9 days. For many and most of them he was out, for a few minutes here and there he seemed there, biting at the tube wanting to say something, responding to "hello Jims" and commands to wiggle toes or blink his eyes.  All the time I was wondering "how many minutes was he unconscious? Is his brain ok? Can he overcome this AND the spinal cord injury AND be the man he wants to be - the man he was before he couldn't stand? Do I tell him it's a long battle and it's okay to let go? What will his recovery even look like if he gets through this new hurdle? How far will he go - walking? Will he be happy?  Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. Deep breath.  Ugh. Ugh. Ugh and what the fuck?!  And so today is that day: full of a million what's and how's and why's. The day that I sat by his bedside and let him tell dictate the next move.  Fraternité, Liberté, Egalité. On July 23rd, after what I'm sure was a very difficult battle, he chose Liberté.I love you, Dad. 

July 11, 2007

A Blogger Into Oblivion

As with the many many stars that light our night sky, there are many many bloggers. Many more bloggers are born each day. And sometimes, like a star that has long burned brightly, a blogger who has filtered news and stories, tales of sadness and joy will just fade out into oblivion. Part of the composite whole no more.

I am feeling the pull, people. Blogging for the past few years has been a great source of joy; it filled voids in between boyfriends and gaps of space and time of friendships, and provided the sense of having a voice that was being heard... somewhere, even if nothing echoed back.

As life ebbs and flows from lazy days to absolute chaos, it is hard to guage if my time and inspiration to share my stories will continue to peak and dip, and that isn't fair to "my three readers" or to the tiny side of me that is always looking for a creative outlet.

First, I want to thank you, my readers, for reading. For not chastising when I was on an apparant rant, for supporting me with like stories or passing them on, for congratulating me on this or that, and for making me laugh and feel like part of a wonderful community. Second, I'd like to ask you to delete me from your rss feed aggregator, or whatever way in which you stumble upon my now infrequent posts, and take me off your blogroll (sad weep weep, but lame if you keep me on there). Third, I'd like to tell you: you bet your ASS I am still reading your blog.

My blog spot will still be around. But don't expect anything new, other than, perhaps, more frequent comments on yours ; )

All my best!
Gertrude "Gertie" Stein.

June 29, 2007

The Three's

It is said that things come in threes. Good things come in three's and bad things come in three's. Whether it be an old wives tale, Murphy's Law, or The Universe Sayin' Something, or just plain old superstition, the theory seems to hold true.

When I was in college, I had 3 jobs to pay for tuition. Funny that - never thought about it until now. Anyway, one of those jobs was as the Unit Coordinator on the Post Partum wing of Boulder Community Hospital. For those who don't speak hospital, that's where the ladies go after giving birth. On that wing, all the nurses were convinced that things happened in three's. When something bad happened, they started counting. When a woman was about to have her 3rd child, they celebrated and knew nothing would go wrong. When there was a full moon, they all got edge-y - but that's another story, as is their solidarity on the pro-life issue (it was Colorado, so give them some slack). When something good or bad happened that didn't align with the three's rule, they went about their routine but puzzled over it in the break room.

That was a long time ago, but ever since BCH, I always subconsciously think in three's. When life gives me a knock, I wait for and expect a couple more, not even knowing that I do. So when they don't come, I'm briefly puzzled and carry on. And when everything's good, I hope and hope it will get to or even extend past the three's. Gosh, who wouldn't?

And so, you three dear readers of mine, I announce that I've just summed up six or maybe eight! Three blows and three-plus incredible successes, all within the last 5 weeks. All at the same time. Because that's how life throws it, I guess.

The first string of three's were negative, and all to my dear, darling, adorable car, Desdemona. Most of it cannot be explained really; if I were to boil it down I would figure she had it coming considering her name's origin is Greek for "wretchedness" or a direct translation for "misery." Thanks, Google. Knowing that now, such a pretty name, and such a pretty car who has been so good to me for so long, I don't think I would have ever named her that when I took title.

Three weeks ago, I was out and about for work, driving the lovely Desi, and came second in line to a stubbornly slow stop sign intersection. Apparantly, some Arizona Ass-Wipe got mixed up along his way, pulled into a driveway before I arrived there to do a U-turn, and backed out right up on Desi's shank. Good thing he was of my Jewish tribe - otherwise I wouldn't have been so accomodating to him.

Two weeks later, Desi got the sh*t smashed out of her side mirror (I know this is sounding repetetive to my 3 readers, so I'll keep it short - there's a point here somewhere near the end). A week later someone bashed in her passenger window to grab the mobile she was coddling for me as I absent-mindedly slept.

So there's Desi's 3. Almost all of them are fixed now. She's taking it well and running like the Arabian stallion she is. Goddamn BMW's. You have to love them.

On the flip of the three's though, and congrous with the timing of the bad three's, three great things have happened. Actually, if everything positive can be counted on the plus side of the universe, then 5 great things have happened. So bonus kharma points, I guess. Man, I think I deserve them with all my niceness anyway.

I closed two fantastic business deals even while nursing Desdemona back to health. I also, shortly thereafter, had a (*ugh*) birthday, for which the parties were very well attended (it was a big birthday, so it commanded more than one party). Plus I had my first friggin' date since December (I must be a monster!! Or busy. Or something in between.... at least I hope that's the case), and yes, people, I just scored the BIGGEST contract thus far in my new business. Just today. Woo! Hoo!

I cannot explain the universal wives' tale/Murphy's Law/Universe Doin' It/Kharma thing. I cannot say that I consciously count all the time. But on occasion, when I do, it all seems to add up. So if you don't already, take the good with the bad and know that life ebbs and flows, and all you can do to stay sane is roll with it.

June 19, 2007


I recently reported that I have nothing to report. Some curve balls, yes. And I'm really glad to have had the perspective I had then, as it continues even further now. After all, they are just curve balls; they are diffucult to navigate, but any pro can manage.

After the previous post of un-interesting events, some others have occurred.
Another one of my contracts closed - pay day - woo hoo. But my company decided to take a big chunk to cover some costs. Boo.

A few days later, my best friend who I hadn't talked to in 6 weeks had her birthday. We went out, had fun, and the late night ended after a 1 hour discussion on how we had both f*cked up. This, actually, wasn't so bad. I swear - so much in the world can be put right just by hearing the other side. Clarity people! We're not totally renewed, but we're both aware now of some outstanding stuff and know we're important enough to each other to work through it and continue to be beacons in each other's lives.

That same night, however, I neglected to remove my cell phone from the car, and awakened next morning to a smashed in car window (no! Desdemona! no!) and the mobile gone. Most of the following Monday was dedicated to getting a new cell and a new window.

But here's where perspective comes into play. Several unfortunate events have come to me recently, but nothing life-altering (except an almost gone best friend, which is pretty huge and altering). But the rest: Annoying? Yes. Inconveniencing? Yes. Expensive to replace when I totally wasn't at fault? Certainly. But it's not like one of my parents died, which happened just recently to another friend.

Over Father's Day weekend, a friend's dad passed away. I simply could not imagine a more devastating blow. To not be there; to have so many things left unsaid; to have so many more life processes to go for which one would want to share with one's parents. Makes my curve balls seem even more trivial than they already seemed. After all, I have pretty much lived 10 years incident-free in a big urban metropolis.

So please, just talk to your loved ones. Parents, rellies, children, and best friends, and let them know you care. I was fortunate enough to putz around my parents' place on Father's Day, trimming the bottle brush tree in front while my dad worked the garden in back and my mom planned her sister's visit and her week's meals in the kitchen, and then I was dragged to the grocery store and helped make a King's Dinner for Dear Old Dad on the BBQ, and I couldn't have asked for anything more that day.

June 10, 2007


Sometimes, life brings you nothing but chores and nothing to report. And that sucks for general life blogging. That is where I seem to have been for the last many many weeks. For those of you who have hung on and checked in anyway, I thank you and I really appreciate it! And, I guarantee that there are circles in life, and soon I will be sharing some really amazing, surprising joys instead of all this crap.

So life, as it were, and as it continues to be, has recently thrown me several curve balls. Not dissimilar to a rather famous religious figure who was asked to make water into wine, I have been asked to turn curve balls into a balanced juggling act on a tightrope of passion vs. getting payed, not to mention having to prove to my parents that I am not a spinster; no, I'm really, truly waiting for the right guy. And really, I am. Come on.

Needless to say, my intellectually designed pithy diatribes have been reduced to quiet, internal grumblings. If you have been in such a position, in which your pithy diatribes have been reduced to quiet, internal grumblings, then you know that these can eat away at your core of Ever-Positiveness. It can shake one's confidence. All around, a dark place to be.

Sometimes-Positive-and-Heading-Down is a tough spiral to contradict, and a meager replacement for one's previous Ever-Positiveness. Seriously. It takes absolute defiance of natural human tendancies. I'm happy to report that the dark storm is subsiding in the outshine of a glorious sunrise. Wait. What? Who the hell said that?

So, to appease my quiet and small audience, here is what has been going on:
1. Work work work work work work work;
2. work. This, as well as the above work, has thus far gone unpaid. Grr.
3. Volunteer work. Um. Can we say unpaid again? OK> Unpaid X 2 groups and I'm on 4 of the committees, come on...;
4. Social networking. This may be fruitful down the line, but as I'm sure you are aware, these activities are sometimes, but almost always, LAME evenings and are yet again Unpaid;
5. Met a real cool cat at the SF Int'l Film Festival. We set up a tentative date. He changed it around at least 5 times and then said he was in a hurly burly chaos state and can we just chill out. I laughed out loud at his email, because we were only trying to set up a night to get drinks and get to know each other better, and his life, apparently, got overwhelmingly in the way. Whatevs, dude. It was just a drink. Chill out.
6. Car crash - in the most urban and mundane sense of the phrase. Some dickhead from Arizona decided to back out of a driveway and into the back of my car, Desdemona, while I was at a stop sign. Apparently he doesn't know to check both LEFT and right before backing up. Nevertheless, it took 2+ weeks to estimate and resolve while I was staying out of town - in general a pain in the ass;
7. Upon making my lovely Desdemona beautiful again (yeah that's her name, don't judge), I came out from today's 4 hour Sunday work appointment only to find that some crazy got super crazy on Desi and kicked out her driver's side mirror just for fun. Oh Joy! Another call to AAA and another visit coming to Tony's Imported Autobody. Damn, they love me there;
8. Haven't talked to my best friend in 6 weeks. Tired of being the olive-branch giver in this situation. She's pissed at me about something, and with 1,2 and 3 above, I really can't be bothered to figure out why and find the olive branch that will work this time. Why do Geminis have to be so damn difficult? However, her birthday is next week, so I've got to do something... must find appropriate gift/olive branch, damn her;
9. Somewhere in my recent calendar of exciting events, I forgot to mention to you that I was kissed (read: accosted) by a 53 year-old Irish man after he bought me 3 glasses of nice Italian wine at my favorite Italian wine bar Ottimista Enoteca. And, let's just wipe that out of all of our memories right now. It doesn't matter that he was such a gentleman and looked like a slightly older Dave Foley, he doesn't exist. Who? That's right. How? Nevermind. And stop complimenting me on my calves.

Geez. More later and I miss you,

May 31, 2007

The new mosquito delight - my O+ eyelids

Occassionally some nordic, moisture-hating version of a mosquito travels into the habitat of my dry-aired apartment and calls it home. I don't discover the mosquito until it annoyingly announces itself about 5 minutes before my REM sleep. Then I begin the frustrating contortion act of trying to be comfortable and able to breathe while hiding 100% of my body underneath the covers for protection.

It's not an easy task. The problem is that by being under the covers you can no longer hear the blood-sucker approaching and finding that one damned spot you left vulnerable. An elbow. A pinky toe. Your forehead.

Sometimes I wonder why mosquitos make the noise they make: after all, it warns us to duck and cover. Then I think maybe other species don't hear the mosquito and the sound we hear is a warning system set-up in the human body. I wonder if mosquitos and other blood suckers prefer a certain blood type, say for example mine, which is O+, since I always seem to be bothered the most. And then I wander off to sleep with only my airways poking out of a sea of bedcovers.

For the third consecutive time, I have awakened to discover that the mosquito has bitten me on the EYELID. Let me tell you this is the most annoying place to have an itch, and the resulting swelling not only makes me look like a descendent of the Elephant Man but also lays pressure on the eye, which makes me feel sleepy all day. I am now going out to buy straws, so I can cover my entire head for the next round.

May 25, 2007

If You Can

If you can, go out tonight. Go out where there is the whisper of wind between the Eucalyptus trees and under the shadowy light of the pale crickety moon. Breathe in the cool valley air that tumbles between the sea and the bay and really, really breathe it in. My God! That, my friends, is why we are here. Why we are one. Why we are here! OK, so I'm a little with nature, and a little on the left, and I am a litle tipsy, but being home is why. We. Are. Here. So Be home. Cheers.