In a world where the 7 billionth person was just born, we are still convincing ourselves and validating the idea of bearing more children. But for why? So people can experience “being a parent” or “raising something of their own”? Come on. Technology has allowed for the ability to slow reproduction. We don’t live very long; just a sliver in an epoch of time. Most of this time we're complaining about living. All the while, millions of children are homeless and absent a loving person in their lives. Even monkeys become seriously emotionally distressed when absent love or even touch. Are you actively loving?
The following things I have basically pulled out of my ass, but it's thoughts I have been mulling over lately:
Try to do well while you’re still here. Love everyone that you can.
Don't be a selfish asshole. Look outwards from yourself.
Don't be wasteful in matters of love, health, and the environment.
Take care of the planet and the people on it right now. Anthropocentrism and all of its subcategories are worthless. You’ll feel more alive once you let go of having pride in the things that man has decided are most important.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Friday, January 28, 2011
50 favorite things (not the Oprah version)
1. kittens.
2. my crazy friends.
3. Morgan Freeman's voice.
4. fuzzy socks.
5. drinking room-temperature water.
6. basil, cilantro, and mint.
7. fog.
8. going to places alone when it's unconventional to go alone.
9. unprocessed food.
10. grammar.
11. writing.
12. wit.
13. quirkiness.
14. cucumbers.
15. hollandaise sauce.
16. albuterol.
17. my bike.
18. heavyweight drawing paper.
19. antique stores.
20. yoga pants.
21. combat boots.
22. dive bars.
23. intellect.
24. post-rock.
25. morrissey.
26. vancouver, bc.
27. iPhone autocorrect funniness.
28. men's wifebeaters.
29. words with friends.
30. inopportune philosophical thought.
31. interesting nail polish colors.
32. three-day weekends.
33. webcomics.
34. late-night video games with friends.
35. classical music.
36. quantum physics.
37. an ice cold IPA.
38. early 90's r&b.
39. the golden bear.
40. early morning back rub.
41. midnight bike rides.
42. my bed.
43. netflix streaming.
44. americanos.
45. fake eyelashes.
46. long sweaters.
47. leggings.
48. pandora.
49. sacramento natural foods co-op.
50. carbohydrates.
I might expand on this list later.
2. my crazy friends.
3. Morgan Freeman's voice.
4. fuzzy socks.
5. drinking room-temperature water.
6. basil, cilantro, and mint.
7. fog.
8. going to places alone when it's unconventional to go alone.
9. unprocessed food.
10. grammar.
11. writing.
12. wit.
13. quirkiness.
14. cucumbers.
15. hollandaise sauce.
16. albuterol.
17. my bike.
18. heavyweight drawing paper.
19. antique stores.
20. yoga pants.
21. combat boots.
22. dive bars.
23. intellect.
24. post-rock.
25. morrissey.
26. vancouver, bc.
27. iPhone autocorrect funniness.
28. men's wifebeaters.
29. words with friends.
30. inopportune philosophical thought.
31. interesting nail polish colors.
32. three-day weekends.
33. webcomics.
34. late-night video games with friends.
35. classical music.
36. quantum physics.
37. an ice cold IPA.
38. early 90's r&b.
39. the golden bear.
40. early morning back rub.
41. midnight bike rides.
42. my bed.
43. netflix streaming.
44. americanos.
45. fake eyelashes.
46. long sweaters.
47. leggings.
48. pandora.
49. sacramento natural foods co-op.
50. carbohydrates.
I might expand on this list later.
Monday, January 24, 2011
personality crash
So I have a friend named Tony that I met over the summer at a second Saturday/art gallery thing. He showed me a lot of attention the first night I met him, telling me how he thought I was so cool and pretty and that we would get along. Now I am usually wary of people showing so much interest so soon, but I sort of gave this guy a break. I was dating someone at the time so I told him I wasn’t trying to date anyone, and he was okay with that. We exchanged numbers and kept in slight contact, as we never added each other as facebook friends.
I ended up running into him again a few months ago at my usual bar, and he was telling me how he had never met another girl like me and how he was so excited to have me back in his life (all real crazy to me) which I found odd because it’s not like he knew me… at all. We had only spent like an hour together at the art show and I gave him a ride home because he didn’t have his car that night. When I was hanging out with him at the bar, he glommed onto me like we were a couple… when in fact he was totally cock-blocking me from trying to talk to a hot guy. So anyway, this guy wouldn’t leave me alone and finally I just bounced. Said bye to him and went home.
He added me on facebook a few days later. He was pretty good about not blowing me up, which I thought was nice. I don’t find him attractive, and although he is really nice to me, I felt like the fact that he was a little too intrusive right off the bat was unattractive. Anyway, I decided to be nice to the guy. He was pretty funny on facebook and wasn’t being too facebook-clingy, so I figured everything was fine.
Well over the weekend I wanted to play some tennis. I posted a thing on facebook about who would want to play and he started posting a whole bunch of comments saying how he wants to play and how we can do doubles and how we can dress up and have fun. That wasn’t my whole idea, I mean, having fun is fine, but I legitimately wanted to get in some tennis practice. A few people said they were in, so I planned on meeting everyone at the park at 2. I told Tony I would pick him up at noon so I could run a couple errands. Turns out that he hasn’t played tennis in 10 fucking years and he didn’t even have a racket. Seriously? You talk all this shit on my facebook page and you play like an 8 year old girl? What the fuck. Also he made me wait 15 minutes so he could finish burning me a CD (which sucked, by the way).
So anyway, I pick him up and we go to Target. Once we got into I noticed that he has his hat on backwards and his big sunglasses still on.
“Are you one of those people who wears their sunglasses inside? It looks retarded.”
“Well, I don’t like to wear my hat backwards without my sunglasses on.”
“So take your sunglasses off and put your hat forwards, you’re not Britney Spears.”
After he does that, he grabs my hand to hold it. AWKWARD. I was not wanting to hold his hand. First of all, I don’t even want a relationship with anyone, especially not him. I guess I just assumed he knew that we were just going to be friends and nothing else. I pretended like I needed to go down a certain aisle to get something, so I was able to free myself from his hand. I grabbed a bag of cat food that I had to hold with both hands so he wouldn’t try to hold my hand again. He picks out a tennis racket. We leave.
After Target, I had to go to the school to get some paperwork. That took five minutes. Then he asks me if we can drive 15 minutes out of the way to go to Arden to get a camera so he can take pictures of us playing tennis. I said that was okay because we still had a bunch of time. So we get to Arden and he finds out that the camera he wants doesn’t come with any film.
“Can we go down on Fulton to the store to get some film?”
“I am not fucking driving anywhere else for film.”
“But it’s right down the street. You just go down Arden and then left on Fulton and then it’s like two lights down.”
“Fine.”
So I turn left on Arden and get to Fulton and then turn left again… LIKE HE SAID.
“Oh no wait, where are we, oh you needed to turn right on Fulton.”
“You said ‘left.’”
“No I meant left on Arden.”
“Yes, and then you motioned with your hand to go left again on Fulton.”
I let out a low growl to show my frustration with him, and he just keeps on yammering away about shit I don’t fucking care about. I really start getting annoyed.
“So, like, what’s your life mantra? What do you live by?”
“The fuck kind of question is that? What do I live by? I live by not having a fucking mantra.”
“No, like, you’re an artist right?”
“Yes.”
“So don’t artists have philosophies and stuff?”
“Dude, I am not Leonardo DaVinci, I just live day to day and get the shit done that I need to get done, and I read and I hang out with my friends. I only get philosophical when talking about religion. I am not all new age-y with a mantra or whatever you’re talking about. Right now I am hungry so let’s go eat.”
Turns out the camera place was next door to a Lebanese restaurant that I have been wanting to try. He went in to the camera place and I sat down at the restaurant. Time started to tick by and I still had to go home to change and get my tennis gear. It looked like lunch would put us over the 2:00 scheduled time for tennis.
After we ate we got back in my car to go home. Mind you, every time I would try to answer a question that he asked, he would talk over me. I don’t think he ever actually let me fully answer a question. So we are driving, and I am being kind of quiet, and he is going on and on about himself and other shit that I don’t care about. Like about how he DJs and makes music that I think is crap, and how he is the only person in the world with certain music. Again, could care less.
“So the best part of my day was holding hands with you in Target.”
“Oh really.”
“Yeah, well, I mean I liked other parts of the day too – are you upset with me? You seem like you’re annoyed.”
“Sorry I am kind of in a funk today and I just want to play some tennis. I am annoyed that we have been running around and it’s stressing me out. Also you keep talking and sometimes I just like to be –“
“Well I didn’t have to go with you to the school and I wanted to do all this stuff for you so we could have a fun time playing tennis. All the camera stuff and everything is for you. I thought we could just go and have a good time and take pretty pictures so you could remember this day in the future and remember how much fun you had.”
“I wanted to actually get in some legitimate practice and you haven’t even played –“
“I thought we were just going to have fun.”
“Okay. Now I am pissed. You are annoying me and you keep talking –“
“I keep talking over you, huh.”
“There, you did it again. You know what? I am going to drop you off at home. I don’t want to date you nor play tennis with you. You’re not going to even be good at tennis and I want to get some practice in, not wait for you to go retrieve all the balls you hit over the net.”
“I don’t want to date you either, I am not romantically interested in you.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? Why the fuck did you try to hold my hand in Target? Dude, don’t get upset with me because you’re trying to hold my hand and I am telling you I don’t want to date you. You’re the one with the mixed signals, not me. You’re stressing me out and frankly, I’m getting pissed off with you. You won’t stop fucking talking and you keep cutting me off when I try to talk. I am dropping you off at home and I don’t want to play tennis or hang out with you anymore.”
“Okay. I am sorry. I mean I am just trying to joke around with you and have fun.”
“I don’t find it funny. I find it annoying and I don’t even want to think about how annoying playing tennis will be. You’re not even going to be good.”
So I took him home, dropped him off and said few words and finally he got out of my car. I made it to tennis 45 minutes late, where I practiced my serve until my friend Wendy showed up to play. We only played for about an hour, and I attribute my tiredness to being stressed out from putting up with the Man-Boy all day.
FUCK. I can’t win with people. Where the hell are the normal people anymore?
I ended up running into him again a few months ago at my usual bar, and he was telling me how he had never met another girl like me and how he was so excited to have me back in his life (all real crazy to me) which I found odd because it’s not like he knew me… at all. We had only spent like an hour together at the art show and I gave him a ride home because he didn’t have his car that night. When I was hanging out with him at the bar, he glommed onto me like we were a couple… when in fact he was totally cock-blocking me from trying to talk to a hot guy. So anyway, this guy wouldn’t leave me alone and finally I just bounced. Said bye to him and went home.
He added me on facebook a few days later. He was pretty good about not blowing me up, which I thought was nice. I don’t find him attractive, and although he is really nice to me, I felt like the fact that he was a little too intrusive right off the bat was unattractive. Anyway, I decided to be nice to the guy. He was pretty funny on facebook and wasn’t being too facebook-clingy, so I figured everything was fine.
Well over the weekend I wanted to play some tennis. I posted a thing on facebook about who would want to play and he started posting a whole bunch of comments saying how he wants to play and how we can do doubles and how we can dress up and have fun. That wasn’t my whole idea, I mean, having fun is fine, but I legitimately wanted to get in some tennis practice. A few people said they were in, so I planned on meeting everyone at the park at 2. I told Tony I would pick him up at noon so I could run a couple errands. Turns out that he hasn’t played tennis in 10 fucking years and he didn’t even have a racket. Seriously? You talk all this shit on my facebook page and you play like an 8 year old girl? What the fuck. Also he made me wait 15 minutes so he could finish burning me a CD (which sucked, by the way).
So anyway, I pick him up and we go to Target. Once we got into I noticed that he has his hat on backwards and his big sunglasses still on.
“Are you one of those people who wears their sunglasses inside? It looks retarded.”
“Well, I don’t like to wear my hat backwards without my sunglasses on.”
“So take your sunglasses off and put your hat forwards, you’re not Britney Spears.”
After he does that, he grabs my hand to hold it. AWKWARD. I was not wanting to hold his hand. First of all, I don’t even want a relationship with anyone, especially not him. I guess I just assumed he knew that we were just going to be friends and nothing else. I pretended like I needed to go down a certain aisle to get something, so I was able to free myself from his hand. I grabbed a bag of cat food that I had to hold with both hands so he wouldn’t try to hold my hand again. He picks out a tennis racket. We leave.
After Target, I had to go to the school to get some paperwork. That took five minutes. Then he asks me if we can drive 15 minutes out of the way to go to Arden to get a camera so he can take pictures of us playing tennis. I said that was okay because we still had a bunch of time. So we get to Arden and he finds out that the camera he wants doesn’t come with any film.
“Can we go down on Fulton to the store to get some film?”
“I am not fucking driving anywhere else for film.”
“But it’s right down the street. You just go down Arden and then left on Fulton and then it’s like two lights down.”
“Fine.”
So I turn left on Arden and get to Fulton and then turn left again… LIKE HE SAID.
“Oh no wait, where are we, oh you needed to turn right on Fulton.”
“You said ‘left.’”
“No I meant left on Arden.”
“Yes, and then you motioned with your hand to go left again on Fulton.”
I let out a low growl to show my frustration with him, and he just keeps on yammering away about shit I don’t fucking care about. I really start getting annoyed.
“So, like, what’s your life mantra? What do you live by?”
“The fuck kind of question is that? What do I live by? I live by not having a fucking mantra.”
“No, like, you’re an artist right?”
“Yes.”
“So don’t artists have philosophies and stuff?”
“Dude, I am not Leonardo DaVinci, I just live day to day and get the shit done that I need to get done, and I read and I hang out with my friends. I only get philosophical when talking about religion. I am not all new age-y with a mantra or whatever you’re talking about. Right now I am hungry so let’s go eat.”
Turns out the camera place was next door to a Lebanese restaurant that I have been wanting to try. He went in to the camera place and I sat down at the restaurant. Time started to tick by and I still had to go home to change and get my tennis gear. It looked like lunch would put us over the 2:00 scheduled time for tennis.
After we ate we got back in my car to go home. Mind you, every time I would try to answer a question that he asked, he would talk over me. I don’t think he ever actually let me fully answer a question. So we are driving, and I am being kind of quiet, and he is going on and on about himself and other shit that I don’t care about. Like about how he DJs and makes music that I think is crap, and how he is the only person in the world with certain music. Again, could care less.
“So the best part of my day was holding hands with you in Target.”
“Oh really.”
“Yeah, well, I mean I liked other parts of the day too – are you upset with me? You seem like you’re annoyed.”
“Sorry I am kind of in a funk today and I just want to play some tennis. I am annoyed that we have been running around and it’s stressing me out. Also you keep talking and sometimes I just like to be –“
“Well I didn’t have to go with you to the school and I wanted to do all this stuff for you so we could have a fun time playing tennis. All the camera stuff and everything is for you. I thought we could just go and have a good time and take pretty pictures so you could remember this day in the future and remember how much fun you had.”
“I wanted to actually get in some legitimate practice and you haven’t even played –“
“I thought we were just going to have fun.”
“Okay. Now I am pissed. You are annoying me and you keep talking –“
“I keep talking over you, huh.”
“There, you did it again. You know what? I am going to drop you off at home. I don’t want to date you nor play tennis with you. You’re not going to even be good at tennis and I want to get some practice in, not wait for you to go retrieve all the balls you hit over the net.”
“I don’t want to date you either, I am not romantically interested in you.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? Why the fuck did you try to hold my hand in Target? Dude, don’t get upset with me because you’re trying to hold my hand and I am telling you I don’t want to date you. You’re the one with the mixed signals, not me. You’re stressing me out and frankly, I’m getting pissed off with you. You won’t stop fucking talking and you keep cutting me off when I try to talk. I am dropping you off at home and I don’t want to play tennis or hang out with you anymore.”
“Okay. I am sorry. I mean I am just trying to joke around with you and have fun.”
“I don’t find it funny. I find it annoying and I don’t even want to think about how annoying playing tennis will be. You’re not even going to be good.”
So I took him home, dropped him off and said few words and finally he got out of my car. I made it to tennis 45 minutes late, where I practiced my serve until my friend Wendy showed up to play. We only played for about an hour, and I attribute my tiredness to being stressed out from putting up with the Man-Boy all day.
FUCK. I can’t win with people. Where the hell are the normal people anymore?
Monday, January 17, 2011
perspective
Occasionally, life mirrors that scene in Dumb and Dumber where Lloyd gets on the wrong freeway and starts heading back in the direction he came from instead of getting to Aspen. Sometimes you think you're going somewhere, and then like a bolt of lightning, reality hits and you realize you're a thousand miles in the wrong direction.
So let's talk about boys for a minute.
I suppose I should give a bit of the back story so you know what in the hell I am talking about rather than you, the reader, becoming frustrated at the vagueness of my blog post.
J was a man that I met on a cheesy dating website, with no high hopes of ever meeting anyone off there. Something about him really tore away at me, sufficiently chipping away at the iceberg of my heart. We constructed long messages to each other, each one as warming and exciting as the one before it, and before long we were in each other's arms. We started to hang out last year, and we were both fairly convinced that something between us would come to fruition, given our mutual attraction to each other and longing to be around each other every hour of every day that we possibly could. We would text all day long, with sweet words and obvious desires.
Then he had to move. We were only together less than a month and I felt like the floor fell out from below me. We took a drive in my car and stayed up for too many hours, talking about the future and trying to keep our spirits up even though we knew he would be leaving the next day. He promised me he would be back in a few months, and that was enough for me. I could hold out... I had already fallen for him.
So he moves away and we text, but my hopes start to dry up. I visit him a few times, we stay in a hotel, he meets my friends, we still talk about the future and that I could have a place in it, and yet I still had a hunch that things were not what they seemed. He'd promise me his heart and then I wouldn't hear from him. A couple of months later I started seeing someone else, because I was sick of waiting. A few months without any effort from him except a few words to hang on was not enough for me anymore.
As the months passed, the majority of texting between us ceased, with the exception of a few random days here and there where we would tell each other how much we missed each other and how badly we wish we were back in each other's arms. That was enough for me. I knew he had a new life, but just knowing he still felt the same way for me was enough. I figured in time we could be together again.
Well yesterday was different. Yesterday I ended up having a long conversation with someone who J always claimed was his "best girl friend" and that I needn't feel threatened by her because he never had an attraction to her. Turns out J was really good at feeding lots of girls the same lines he fed me, her, and currently the girl that he lives with/sleeps with/mooches from.
His modus operandi was to completely deny that him and I ever had any kind of relationship, that I "tried" to get him to stay with me at a hotel, and that he was not even attracted to me, that we never slept together and shared nothing more than a kiss. Clearly this makes me look like a flaming idiot, because to everyone else I look like a crazy girl who has feelings for someone who wants nothing to do with me, all the while pretending in my head that our relationship is something that it isn't. Well, he is the liar in this case, and I the sane girl who got dicked over for no apparent reason. This is all very unsettling to me and his "best friend." I feel badly for her, considering he has been compulsively lying to her about parts of his life that he should be completely honest about. I was always honest with him about everything, and never expected anything but honesty from him. His best friend also expected honesty and instead received lies, manipulation, and desertion.
Friday was the last time we texted back and forth with each other, with lovey things like how badly we missed each other, how we wanted to be "physical" again with each other, and we even sent pictures... his more revealing than mine.
Why did he lie? Why would someone choose to manipulate someone so ruthlessly and then deny the very existence of a relationship?
This is why I will be single forever, and why I don't trust men. AT ALL.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
i wrote this for class
I initially went into this with the thought that I would be able to write a little bit about every night, since each one was so interesting, but I keep coming back to only three nights. After losing my friend Andy to suicide in August, I had a lot of questions about how to make sense of it all. I debated whether coming to the suicide night would be of much help, or if it was just too soon after the loss to be able to really let everything sink in. I had already been signed up for this class before he died, and before him, I had never lost anyone to suicide. My thoughts surrounding it were very one-sided. I always told people that dying by suicide was a cop-out or it meant that you couldn’t face the challenges of life and suffering like every other human being. I was actually pretty rude about it, and definitely being too defensive to be someone that could offer help. This class and the loss of my friend have changed my view completely.
I got a call at 2AM from my friend Stephanie, and I didn’t answer the phone because I figured it was just asking me to come and hang out. They left a voicemail but I never listened to it. The next morning at 8AM when I had just arrived at work, my friend called again. This was unlike her to call in the morning so I answered. She told me the news and I was in disbelief. Andy was the nicest guy, very well known in the community, had hundreds and hundreds of friends, remembered everyone by name, went out of his way to be nice to everyone, and always had a smile. It was such completely shocking news that I was waiting for someone to say “just kidding.” I gathered myself and went home from work, the start of taking off three days because I could barely even get myself out of bed. The first day, I met with my friend Anne, who was one of his best friends. We got flowers, spent the day talking about him and sharing stories, and doing lots and lots of crying. A week later was his memorial, and it was amazing to see over a thousand people crowing the block of 20th street between J and K, in front of his office. It was bittersweet to see lots of friends who I had lost touch with, and who I now keep very close because the glaring realization of how short life is was made apparent that night.
The next month, for some closure and for renewing a bit of my sanity, I did the “Chalk-it-Up” piece sponsored by his employer in memoriam of Andy. The piece drew a huge crowd of his friends and family, and we all sort of accepted the impermanence of the chalk as a metaphor for life. It rained two days later.
Another part of the suicide night that crept up from the filing cabinet of my brain was the death of my uncle Mikey. He passed away last year from complications with alcoholism and drug abuse. It was the middle of December, in a record-low temperature week, and he had stopped eating. A couple weeks later he became so weak that he collapsed in his apartment and he froze to death. At first, I thought, “Oh my god, why has nobody in my family ever said he was this bad?” And my second thought was that he probably was far beyond the reach of any help. I never considered this to be a form of suicide, but then when we had that class, it became obvious. He was too weak and depressed to take any measures to take his life beyond starvation. He just stopped eating instead of putting a gun to his head like Andy did. The death of my uncle is almost even more depressing than Andy’s, because he experienced very real suffering before his death, whereas Andy just ended everything quickly.
I could barely keep it together on suicide night, but I am so glad I did. Now if I encounter someone who seems like they are having those thoughts, I can share with them what I have learned about how to speak to them, instead of just closing off and saying they are copping out. People who are close to suicide really need the help and comfort of someone who loves them, because often they just don’t feel loved. The loss of Andy and Mikey is incredibly sad and difficult, but I think that through understanding their pain that I now have a better idea of the thought process of someone who is thinking of taking their life.
The other two nights were on Grief. I didn’t think that these two nights would hit me as hard as they did, but it made me think about the losses in my family, and that EVERY single death of someone close to me has been tragic. There have been drownings, seizures during sleep that caused choking, stroke, suicide, drug overdose, and heart attack. Realizing that I had not been around any terminally ill loved ones made me really sad. It made me realize a lot of things about myself, how I hang on tightly to the people I care about, and that it’s incredibly hard for me to get close to them in the first place. I also realized that my family is very closed-mouthed when it comes to grieving, and we don’t really show our emotions or talk about feelings or even say “I love you” very often. The most recent loss of my uncle was sort of weird because I found myself trying so hard not to cry at his funeral. It was only later, when I was home by myself, that I was able to let it all out. I thought, “how tragic” about his death and “how pathetic” that I didn’t even want my own family seeing me cry at his funeral. I didn’t want to go through life hiding my very real and very painful emotions about death. I feel like when I experienced the loss of Andy, that my talents in grieving were brushed up a bit. I felt ease in grieving, possibly because I was around my friends who knew him, who weren’t going to judge my grieving. I know it is even silly to say the words “judge my grieving” but that is the only way I can describe the feeling of wanting to hide my emotions.
Since attending the grief nights, I feel like I am becoming more open with myself and with other people when talking about the loss of a loved one. Sometimes I might become even a little bit too inquisitive, asking questions and being caring, but it’s because I am genuinely interested and I want people to talk about it if they are comfortable.
The grief night also helped me understand a past relationship I had, where my boyfriend’s mom passed away when he was 20 when he was on a mission for his church in Australia. He hadn’t seen his mom in two years, and his family lied to him and never revealed that she was getting sick until it was too late. By the time she passed away, he was already on his flight back to Sacramento. I found that our relationship was partially suffering due to his attachment towards me to fill a motherly role. It was interesting to find how young people grieve, and that as they grow older, they will have more questions to ask as their understanding and interest of the situation grows.
I think that this class has really helped me to understand death on a deeper level, and it has definitely made my interest in death and dying greater. I would hope to volunteer at a hospice some day, or at the very least be a shoulder to lean on when someone is having a hard time.
I got a call at 2AM from my friend Stephanie, and I didn’t answer the phone because I figured it was just asking me to come and hang out. They left a voicemail but I never listened to it. The next morning at 8AM when I had just arrived at work, my friend called again. This was unlike her to call in the morning so I answered. She told me the news and I was in disbelief. Andy was the nicest guy, very well known in the community, had hundreds and hundreds of friends, remembered everyone by name, went out of his way to be nice to everyone, and always had a smile. It was such completely shocking news that I was waiting for someone to say “just kidding.” I gathered myself and went home from work, the start of taking off three days because I could barely even get myself out of bed. The first day, I met with my friend Anne, who was one of his best friends. We got flowers, spent the day talking about him and sharing stories, and doing lots and lots of crying. A week later was his memorial, and it was amazing to see over a thousand people crowing the block of 20th street between J and K, in front of his office. It was bittersweet to see lots of friends who I had lost touch with, and who I now keep very close because the glaring realization of how short life is was made apparent that night.
The next month, for some closure and for renewing a bit of my sanity, I did the “Chalk-it-Up” piece sponsored by his employer in memoriam of Andy. The piece drew a huge crowd of his friends and family, and we all sort of accepted the impermanence of the chalk as a metaphor for life. It rained two days later.
Another part of the suicide night that crept up from the filing cabinet of my brain was the death of my uncle Mikey. He passed away last year from complications with alcoholism and drug abuse. It was the middle of December, in a record-low temperature week, and he had stopped eating. A couple weeks later he became so weak that he collapsed in his apartment and he froze to death. At first, I thought, “Oh my god, why has nobody in my family ever said he was this bad?” And my second thought was that he probably was far beyond the reach of any help. I never considered this to be a form of suicide, but then when we had that class, it became obvious. He was too weak and depressed to take any measures to take his life beyond starvation. He just stopped eating instead of putting a gun to his head like Andy did. The death of my uncle is almost even more depressing than Andy’s, because he experienced very real suffering before his death, whereas Andy just ended everything quickly.
I could barely keep it together on suicide night, but I am so glad I did. Now if I encounter someone who seems like they are having those thoughts, I can share with them what I have learned about how to speak to them, instead of just closing off and saying they are copping out. People who are close to suicide really need the help and comfort of someone who loves them, because often they just don’t feel loved. The loss of Andy and Mikey is incredibly sad and difficult, but I think that through understanding their pain that I now have a better idea of the thought process of someone who is thinking of taking their life.
The other two nights were on Grief. I didn’t think that these two nights would hit me as hard as they did, but it made me think about the losses in my family, and that EVERY single death of someone close to me has been tragic. There have been drownings, seizures during sleep that caused choking, stroke, suicide, drug overdose, and heart attack. Realizing that I had not been around any terminally ill loved ones made me really sad. It made me realize a lot of things about myself, how I hang on tightly to the people I care about, and that it’s incredibly hard for me to get close to them in the first place. I also realized that my family is very closed-mouthed when it comes to grieving, and we don’t really show our emotions or talk about feelings or even say “I love you” very often. The most recent loss of my uncle was sort of weird because I found myself trying so hard not to cry at his funeral. It was only later, when I was home by myself, that I was able to let it all out. I thought, “how tragic” about his death and “how pathetic” that I didn’t even want my own family seeing me cry at his funeral. I didn’t want to go through life hiding my very real and very painful emotions about death. I feel like when I experienced the loss of Andy, that my talents in grieving were brushed up a bit. I felt ease in grieving, possibly because I was around my friends who knew him, who weren’t going to judge my grieving. I know it is even silly to say the words “judge my grieving” but that is the only way I can describe the feeling of wanting to hide my emotions.
Since attending the grief nights, I feel like I am becoming more open with myself and with other people when talking about the loss of a loved one. Sometimes I might become even a little bit too inquisitive, asking questions and being caring, but it’s because I am genuinely interested and I want people to talk about it if they are comfortable.
The grief night also helped me understand a past relationship I had, where my boyfriend’s mom passed away when he was 20 when he was on a mission for his church in Australia. He hadn’t seen his mom in two years, and his family lied to him and never revealed that she was getting sick until it was too late. By the time she passed away, he was already on his flight back to Sacramento. I found that our relationship was partially suffering due to his attachment towards me to fill a motherly role. It was interesting to find how young people grieve, and that as they grow older, they will have more questions to ask as their understanding and interest of the situation grows.
I think that this class has really helped me to understand death on a deeper level, and it has definitely made my interest in death and dying greater. I would hope to volunteer at a hospice some day, or at the very least be a shoulder to lean on when someone is having a hard time.
Monday, November 22, 2010
holidaycation
Aaaahhhh Thanksgiving week. Easily my favorite week of the year since I get off Thursday AND Friday. This week is especially awesome because I am seeing all my family on Thursday, all my friends on Friday, and then leaving ass early in the morning on Saturday to my FAVORITE TWO FUCKING PLACES IN THE ENTIRE WORLD... Seattle and Vancouver, BC. We are going to spend three nights in Seattle and one night in Vancouver. My friend Anne is coming on the trip with me; she is the friend who went with me to New York City in 2009, and also my only friend who could take that much time off and carries a passport. I plan on meeting at least 10 men of my dreams during that week. Maybe I will marry a Canadian. I swear to god all the men in Vancouver are hot as shit. They are all tall, kinda pale, dark hair, black glasses, dress kind of nerdy, and nobody is fat. Seriously, no fat people in Canada. I think it's a law.
So, in the meantime, as I am writing this blog, I am wracking my brain at the intense amount of homework I have to do between now and Wednesday. You see, I have a 4.0, which has been CRAZY HARD to manage this past four years that I have actively been going to college. I am SO OVER IT. I am SOOO fucking over class and the annoying people in my classes and doing homework every night and not being able to enjoy any free time. I have an oral report due for my death and dying class, a paper on environmental health and its effects on asthma, a whole bunch of homework to catch up on for math, and at least 4 more exams. BARF! But, as everyone says, "you will be happy you got it out of the way now instead of later." And these people are right. Hell none of my friends have really finished school or even take my school schedule seriously. This makes me want to lag on my homework and my other priorities like doing dishes and shit. Only three more weeks and then I only have two more actual classes that I need to get out of the way to BE DONE WITH SAC CITY!!!! Do you have any idea how excited I am? I am still in my dilemma of whether or not I should switch my major to something practical instead of art. I could always do art on the side and keep my cushiony state job.
I guess I should thank god it's getting into winter. Nobody goes out in the winter. I plan on drinking shitloads of coffee and reading about 10 books I have looming over me on my bookshelf. Speaking of bookshelf, I need a new one. And a new dining room table. I digress.
Anyway, on to my favorite season of the year... winter. Aaahhhhh winter. Thanksgiving with my family will be great like always, we will stuff ourselves until we can't move, and sleep in the next day while all the crazies are off stampeding Walmarts across America. I don't understand that sort of material obsessing. Then I will make me way to Target and buy some Christmas lights and maybe a plastic tree, so I can put it up in my window of my apartment. I am not religious, AT ALL, actually vehemently opposed to organized religion, but man, do I love me some Christmas season. I think I actually appreciate it more now that I don't work in retail. Also I really, REALLY love Christmas music. Especially Sufjan Stevens' stuff. Soooo good. And I love the rain. I love layering my clothing and piling all the covers on top of me and not wanting to get out of bed in the morning. I love getting together with family and enjoying the season of giving. I love any holiday, really, that involves eating.
For Christmas this year I think I want gift certificates to bike shops so I can get some work done on my bike that I have been putting off for the last year. I need new rims, tires, handlebars, stem, grip tape, flip the back wheel, and take off a brake. YEP, that right there my friends will cost a good couple hundo. Want to donate to the fix Mandie's bike fund? All donations welcome. I could also use some new winter clothes, especially a new pair of tall brown boots. MMMMM I love boots.
They're decorating the Christmas tree at the Capitol this week. They will probably light it up the first week of December.
Time flies, everyone. Love as much as you can! I love everyone :)
So, in the meantime, as I am writing this blog, I am wracking my brain at the intense amount of homework I have to do between now and Wednesday. You see, I have a 4.0, which has been CRAZY HARD to manage this past four years that I have actively been going to college. I am SO OVER IT. I am SOOO fucking over class and the annoying people in my classes and doing homework every night and not being able to enjoy any free time. I have an oral report due for my death and dying class, a paper on environmental health and its effects on asthma, a whole bunch of homework to catch up on for math, and at least 4 more exams. BARF! But, as everyone says, "you will be happy you got it out of the way now instead of later." And these people are right. Hell none of my friends have really finished school or even take my school schedule seriously. This makes me want to lag on my homework and my other priorities like doing dishes and shit. Only three more weeks and then I only have two more actual classes that I need to get out of the way to BE DONE WITH SAC CITY!!!! Do you have any idea how excited I am? I am still in my dilemma of whether or not I should switch my major to something practical instead of art. I could always do art on the side and keep my cushiony state job.
I guess I should thank god it's getting into winter. Nobody goes out in the winter. I plan on drinking shitloads of coffee and reading about 10 books I have looming over me on my bookshelf. Speaking of bookshelf, I need a new one. And a new dining room table. I digress.
Anyway, on to my favorite season of the year... winter. Aaahhhhh winter. Thanksgiving with my family will be great like always, we will stuff ourselves until we can't move, and sleep in the next day while all the crazies are off stampeding Walmarts across America. I don't understand that sort of material obsessing. Then I will make me way to Target and buy some Christmas lights and maybe a plastic tree, so I can put it up in my window of my apartment. I am not religious, AT ALL, actually vehemently opposed to organized religion, but man, do I love me some Christmas season. I think I actually appreciate it more now that I don't work in retail. Also I really, REALLY love Christmas music. Especially Sufjan Stevens' stuff. Soooo good. And I love the rain. I love layering my clothing and piling all the covers on top of me and not wanting to get out of bed in the morning. I love getting together with family and enjoying the season of giving. I love any holiday, really, that involves eating.
For Christmas this year I think I want gift certificates to bike shops so I can get some work done on my bike that I have been putting off for the last year. I need new rims, tires, handlebars, stem, grip tape, flip the back wheel, and take off a brake. YEP, that right there my friends will cost a good couple hundo. Want to donate to the fix Mandie's bike fund? All donations welcome. I could also use some new winter clothes, especially a new pair of tall brown boots. MMMMM I love boots.
They're decorating the Christmas tree at the Capitol this week. They will probably light it up the first week of December.
Time flies, everyone. Love as much as you can! I love everyone :)
Friday, November 19, 2010
glasses won't help you see in the dark
I spend a lot of time alone. It is probably partly related to the fact that I live alone, or because I am usually at work, school, or doing homework. I spend an inordinate amount of time thinking, philosophising, or having fleeting epiphanies and even more fleeting moments of understanding the meaning of life. My cell phone will ring or my cat will meow at me and my train of thought along the path to enlightenment will derail, but only momentarily.
What have I been thinking about lately? I guess lately I have been more aware of my physical and emotional state of being. Since ending a rollercoaster of a relationship in February and going on a thousand uneventful dates since then, I have decided to reorganize the filing cabinet of my emotions. I have started this process by being a little more selfish, not letting people walk all over me, speaking my mind, dropping leeches from my life. Ironically, I have actually gotten nicer as a whole. I am more aware of the way I speak to people, trying to be less cynical and more caring. I think maybe that is part of getting older. I also see the way my close friends treat each other, and I become saddened and afraid that possibly they are speaking poorly of me behind my back. I don't know why they would or what they would say, because I never cause drama among them, but I see how catty and unforgiving they are with each other, that it makes my heart sink a bit. I don't want to be like them. I want people to be around who I can trust all get along. I want people who I know when I share something with them that they won't tell 9 of my friends, who in turn tell 9 of their friends, and so on. So for now, I am working on being the role model to them, leading by example and all that shit. Hopefully it works.
With that said, I have met some really amazing people lately. People who are incredibly kind, generous, talented, funny, and genuine. Let's hope that train stays on its tracks and hopefully I keep meeting great new friends.
Unfortunately, the men I have been meeting are.. well... less than sub-par. Below par. Miles and miles south of par. This has got to end. I do, however, have lots of male friends in my life, who are all amazing, and treat me so well. But that is life. I have them in my life, but I sleep alone. And you know what? That is okay. I am fine with sleeping alone. Sleeping alone is thousands of times better than sharing a bed with someone who makes you cry or makes your heart hurt. This time that I am spending being single is a bit of a learning experience. I like to observe the behaviors of my friends who are in relationships, my friends who are single, and the one or two guys out there who I may or may not have a crush on. I like to observe the behaviors of single men who pursue me, staying just at arm's length from everyone. It's fun to watch. It's fun to sign in to facebook and see seven "pokes" from random guy friends of mine. It's fun to sign in to my Plenty of Fish account (LOL) once every couple weeks and read the drivel of poorly executed pickup lines and abortion of the English language. I can't bring myself to delete my Plenty of Fish account just for the sole comedic value that I recieve when reading messages. God, I have only met one person on there, and that was Jeff. Boy, do I miss him. I digress.
So I guess I have been spending time observing behavior. Performing a social experiment of sorts, with me being the only person tracking and analyzing the results. Sure there is someone out there who I have a crush on, but a crush is such an interesting thing. You have to have a crush long enough to decide if you would still like them after you got them. It's fun to want something so badly and never have it. Then you get it and you play with it for a few weeks and then you shove it back in the junk drawer. I don't want to do that anymore. I am so fucking stubborn and so set in my ways and so obsessed with having my free time, that whoever I date will have to be able to complement my life in a manner that is unobstructive. However, I am probably the best catch of a woman any man could ever have.
So my life and my emotions and my physical state of being are continuously being observed and analyzed by me. My brain working so hard to separate fact from fiction. I enjoy being single. For now.
But then again, I would totally marry Win Butler.
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