Food for thought: On birthdays and the detached connected generation

So this week I turned the page on yet another chapter of my life.  I officially entered my 30s.  Last year was the BIG “dirty thirty” turnover and this was the step in.

As I had been not single for a majority of this year, I haven’t seen as many of my friends as I’d have liked to.  Add to it last year’s awesome birthday trip to Seattle was not in the works as I’m currently a Muse for Hire as well as teensy bit pregnant.  (Read: not even showing just yet)

As things have been a bit all over the map and tumbling down as well as riding up (I will go into them in other posts but you can start by reading this one here and this one here to get an idea of where to start) I started to have a few rain cloud thoughts about this year’s birthday.  A couple of shitty phone calls later from my past and, well, I wasn’t exactly feeling the most bubbly about everything.

Granted: there were TONS of birthday messages on my Facebook wall and a few of you even reached out to me on Twitter.  And that was fantastic and completely appreciated.

Despite the TONS of friends and wishes, There were only a few people who even asked what I was up to… less than I could count on one hand… and one of them lived cross country.

I felt crappy about it.  Silly as it were, and knowing that I had dropped off the radar a bit with my relationship, I still was bummed.   Moreso, I felt bad about being bummed- worried that it was potentially just another case of pregnancy hormones trying to get the best of me on my otherwise productive day.

It wasn’t until I ended up telling my current roommate about my plans for the evening that things really came into view.  As it turned out, he had talked to another friend of mine who also knew what was going on and they were trying to arrange a small little outing for me.

I felt like a total asshole.

“People probably assumed you already had plans because, like me, you’re always so busy.”

I bucked up a bit and helped pull the reins.  I reached out to a few close friends and asked them to dinner.  As it turned out, there will be more dinners in the works in the next coming days.  Friends were happy to go and hang out with me and have dinner and what not to celebrate.  They, like my friend commented, just assumed that I had other plans.

At dinner I mentioned the whole thing to friends as well.  It was a unanimous thing said amongst everyone.  As active as we are in our daily lives, how often, unless you have a set group of friends that you do things with CONSTANTLY how often do you take the time to ask someone what they are doing for their birthday?  Really take a moment and step back and think about it.  You might be incredibly surprised.

In a day and age where we are so digitally connected, we too often forget just how much it means to someone (who yes might totally be busy a lot of times) to even get asked the question of what they’re doing.  It may seem petty in a the scheme of things, it could mean the world to… even the people you think might think are social rockstars.

Special days are special because of the people we share them with.

While it’s true that social media is a great tool to stay connected with friends it doesn’t replace the power of going one step further and showing you are also real life person outside of a page.

 

If I hadn’t left that night

Sometimes (read: often) I think about that last fateful night when…

And I wonder… what would have happened had I not left that night.

But I needed to leave.

You needed to feel my absence a bit.

I needed to feel yours.

When I left that night, I was just as upset about it as you are now.

I didn’t want to leave.

I didn’t want to fight.

I just wanted things to stop.

I’m not sure you would have done anything to change those things

If I hadn’t left that night.

I wanted you to be better.

I thought that by me leaving, you might appreciate me more.

That I might appreciate me more.

In several ways I have found one of those things to be true.

As breakable as I feel like I can be

I’m not.

There are amazing souls that appreciate me.

I used to be one of them.

I should have been more of them than I had been.

I don’t know if I could have remembered that as strongly

If I hadn’t left that night.

In the midnight hour I still dream of you

Of the person I believed in you

Of the love that I hoped would return to me

Of the happiness that I thought might appear again

But likely couldn’t…

if I hadn’t left that night.

And the texts keep coming

The answers are painful

So very very painful

And knowing might be half the battle but it still hurts wondering

Would it have been different?

Would we have been different?

Would I have been different?

If I hadn’t left that night.

It wasn’t always like this

Let’s rewind to almost a year ago.

I had been working two jobs- a freelance client opportunity and a full time “mundane” office job in downtown Los Angeles.  After years of trying to make it (between freelance and temporary contract jobs amongst other life matters) I found myself not only capable of doing it, but doing a fantastic job at that.

So much so that I had saved and had no worry or care when my then boss at the time tempted not give me time off to spend my 30th with my best friend in Seattle.

I had conquered a mountain of debt, spent several thousand dollars in investments into personal matters and was thriving.  I had worked hard and it was finally paying off.  This was a milestone moment and I was going to take it.  Thankfully it was approved and off I was on my first real vacation trip on my own in ages.

Something curious about the time?  I was also single.

Sure I had gone out on a few dates here and there but it wasn’t anything major.  Hell, it was one of those experiences that had it’s magical moments but we both knew we weren’t ready or able to give the other the fairy tale happily ever after tale at the end.

When I left for Seattle for that trip last May I didn’t have a real care in the world.

I was whole.

I was complete.

I had no one but I felt like I was everyone.

I was awesome.

It was all going to be alright because I made it alright.

I was enough.

And it was absolutely amazing.

When I think about how far I’ve come from that, and how far I was before I got there in the first place, it’s kind of difficult to wallow in sadness for too long.  Yes, I’ve had probably a million moments of sadness.  I know that there likely will be more where that came from.  But there will also be that many moments of joy.

I learned that magic isn’t just something that exists in this world, but it’s created.  It’s an internal choice.  It’s an external mission.  It’s often great shared (and sharing I would find is also its own process at times, especially in the dark hours) but… it’s also great when it’s not.

In Seattle I spent my time primarily with Jo.  We had a blast talking about the past.  About the moment when I couch surfed at her place when I had a bump in the road.  About how we missed being roommates.  About the silly stupid stuff that best friends talk about and miss when they are miles apart physically.

However that trip taught me so much about what companionship was and balance that…

The day I arrived we were to meet up with a few of her friends who were also in town.  The night was amazing.  I hadn’t previously met these women but they treated me like they had known me for years.  It was heartwarming.  A reminder that strangers are just people waiting to be friends.

And then there was that last day.  With that trip, as with the next that followed, the last day would be my day.  It was to be treated completely at my whim.  The day was whatever I wanted.

The last day was always the best day.

On my rush to the airport that day I ended up on the train where an old man started talking to me.  We talked about being strangers.  We talked about the town.  We talked about destinations and the future.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” he asked me.

“No.” I said with a laugh.

“Why not?”

“I don’t need one.” I said with a smile.

For all those times when things are hard, this post is to remember that day.  It might feel like ages away but it really isn’t.  A person is capable of going farther than they would imagine.  No matter what the hardships… no matter how bad it seems like it could possibly be (and it was pretty bad), it can always get worse.  Or…. it can get better.  You just have to suck it up and believe.

Remember what it was like to believe.

It Won’t Be Like This Forever: My Abortion Story

Months ago…

once upon a time ago…

our time ago…

 

We were having a bad patch.

It seems like we have been cycling through bad patches ever since we got together.

 

I don’t know how we got there.

How we kept getting there.

How we never seemed to leave there.

 

Months ago during that bad patch I sent him a link to a song about my sadness.

Ben Folds- Brick.

 

 

“That’s a song about an abortion, not us.” he said.

“It’s how I feel.”

 

Oh what little did I know all those months ago.

 

Months later…

I sat in a cold waiting room, alone.

I was filling out forms.

Procedures.

Signatures.

Statements of “understanding.”

 

 

“The world is sleeping I am numb.”

 

And the text messages poured in.

It was terrible.

We had been so terrible to each other.

 

I don’t know how it got there.

How it never seemed to leave there.

 

“She broke down. I broke down. Because I was tired of life.”

 

Inside of me there is a seed of love created in happiness.

Of something once undeniably there.

Of something that…

 

I don’t know how it got away from there.

I don’t know how it never seemed to leave there.

 

The picketers whom I had to walk past to get into the office chanted louder.

The door to the office was open.

Perhaps it was to try and remind the women waiting that there still was light.

That there still was hope.

That there still was… something.

 

I could see the picketers from my seat in the waiting room.

Their voices continued to rise.

Louder.

Stronger.

Echoing through the empty corners of that cold white waiting room.

 

And the text messages poured in.

It was terrible.

I felt terrible.

 

“Now that I have found someone I’m feeling more alone than I ever have before.”

 

I don’t know how we got there.

How we kept getting there.

How we never seemed to leave there.

 

“She broke down. I broke down. Because I was tired of life.”

 

But unlike that song, you weren’t there.

When they called my name, you were states away.

 

And these were my steps.

Little steps.

First steps.

Potentially last steps.

 

There was a part of me sentenced to die…

Whom it seemed you wanted to die.

 

The love I had felt…

That we had felt…

This would be a constant reminder and it was to be completely extinguished.

 

I wiped the tears from my eyes.

I took a deep breath breath.

I closed my eyes and pretended I was Dorothy.

I chanted to myself.

“It won’t be like this forever. It won’t be like this forever. It won’t be like this forever.”

 

And these were my steps.

Little steps.

First steps.

Potentially last steps.

 

There was a part of me sentenced to die…

Whom it seemed you wanted to die.

 

The next room I would be alone with a nurse.

Like the first, it would also be cold.

Stark cold nothingness.

It was the theme permeating throughout the building.

A sign of nothingness to be and to continue to be.

 

“Now she’s feeling more alone than she ever has before.”

 

The series of questioning would start.

Medical history.

Partners.

Relationships.

 

“Does the father know you are here?”

“Yes. He wants me to go through with this.”

“Do you?”

“I’m honestly not sure.  I feel terrible right now.  I want more information to try and make my decision.”

“Remember that this is your decision.  Don’t let anyone else force you to make one that you will regret.  It doesn’t matter if he agrees or not.  All that matters is you.”

 

“Now she’s feeling more alone than she ever has before.”

 

I closed my eyes and took another deep breath.

Months ago…

once upon a time ago…

our time ago…

 

He might not remember it but he said it.

“I want to have children with you someday.  I think you’re going to be a great mom.”

But he said it.

He said it multiple times.

 

Months ago…

once upon a time ago…

our time ago…

 

“She broke down. I broke down. Because I was tired of life.”

 

I don’t know how we got there.

How we kept getting there.

How we never seemed to leave there.

 

She continued to tell me about the procedure.

I would be asleep.

It would be relatively painless as I would be under anesthesia.

 

“The world is sleeping I am numb.”

 

“I want to find out how far along I am.  I need to know that much before I even begin to commit to anything.”

She understood.

 

It was time to take more steps again.

Little steps.

First steps.

Potentially last steps.

 

I came into a room filled with women waiting for their procedures.

Some of them were in hospital gowns.

Some of them were waiting their turn.

There were rollers with iv bags.

There were women waiting for ivs as well.

 

 

It was cold.

It felt like the coldest room so far.

Stark cold nothingness.

It was the theme permeating throughout the building.

A sign of nothingness to be and to continue to be.

 

None of the women so much as looked at each other let alone spoke.

Each woman either sat and stared blankly or covered their faces in their hands.

It was a room full of ghosts.

A room full of sadness.

A room full of undeniable pain.

 

I wiped the tears from my eyes.

I took a deep breath breath.

I closed my eyes and pretended I was Dorothy.

I chanted to myself.

“It won’t be like this forever. It won’t be like this forever. It won’t be like this forever.”

 

There was a part of me sentenced to die…

Whom it seemed you wanted to die.

 

The love I had felt…

That we had felt…

This would be a constant reminder and it was to be completely extinguished.

 

A nurse came in to check up on us all.

“How are all of you today?  Are you alright?  Well considering the circumstances?”

 

For a moment I felt calmer.

Warmer.

And the tears dried a little, although not completely.

 

I waited my turn.

 

Some of the women finally began to talk.

It was like they had been awoken.

Even if just for a moment.

 

That nurse was a ray of light.

She was hope.

She was a sign that there were still people who cared.

A light in that blank canvas of nothing.

 

Because that’s what a small ray of sunshine can do.

Because maybe that’s why that door was open in the waiting room.

 

There is still light.

There is still hope.

There is still… something.

 

“They call her name at 7:30.”

 

Another nurse.

Another room.

Cold still.

Nothingness still.

 

“It won’t be like this forever. It won’t be like this forever. It won’t be like this forever.”

 

Another nurse came in.

“So you’re here to get an ultrasound to find out how far along you are?”

“Yes. I am not sure if I want to proceed beyond that.  I know that knowing that much will help me with my decision and my options.”

 

I was told to disrobe from the waist down.

She would return and we would find out my answer.

 

 

I looked up at a monitor.

It was waiting for someone.

It was waiting for me.

It was waiting for…

 

The nurse returned.

We started looking.

Measurements were taken.

Pictures were taken.

 

The nothingness that I felt disappeared.

I began to cry again.

 

Inside of me there is a seed of love created in happiness.

Of something once undeniably there.

Of something that…

 

I don’t know how it got away from there.

I don’t know how it never seemed to leave there.

But there it was… cozy and comfy in black and white on that screen.

 

A sign of life.

A sign of hope.

A reminder of…

 

Months ago…

once upon a time ago…

our time ago…

 

And while my heart fights the reality of that potentially never being anything more than a memory again

 

You’re still there.

 

I’m still here.

 

I’m not ready to say goodbye to either one of us.

 

And these were my steps.

Little steps.

First steps.

Potentially last steps.

 

There was a part of me sentenced to die…

Whom it seemed you wanted to die.

 

Maybe it did that day.

But maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t the way either of us thought it would.

 

That little piece of black and white was hope.

It was a sign.

A light in that blank canvas of nothing.

 

Because that’s what a small ray of sunshine can do.

Because maybe that’s why that door was open in the waiting room.

 

There is still light.

There is still hope.

There is still… something.

 

And while I admit I’m completely scared and not sure about the details of what’s about to happen I know that it’s going to be ok.

 

Because that’s what a small ray of sunshine can do.

There is still light.

There is still hope.

There is still… someone.

And I can’t wait to meet you when you get here.

External power outage day: Reasons to keep trying

This morning I woke up early to the sound of the rain.

I was inspired.

I was hopeful.

I was ready to take on the day full force… but only after I wrote here first.

I wrote a bit.

I read a bit.

For awhile, it was on Twitter… quoting lines from one of the comics I got this weekend while out and about on Free Comic Book day.

And then, nearly almost exactly after I finished my earlier post today… well something else happened.

Silence.

The power went out.

I was so busy with my own distractions that I didn’t even notice.

How many other things do we miss because we are too busy with distractions?

I shrugged it off.  I took the dog out.  I’d read for a bit and write for a bit… the old fashioned way and kill some time contemplating and reflecting about life.

This weekend there had been a discussion about how the world “just needs a day to shut the fuck up.”  That sometimes (read: often) people just talk too damn much.  I thought about that a lot today… in the silence.

I really do talk too damn much sometimes.

I walked the dog.  I’m currently dog sitting for a friend of a friend.  One constant through my recent travels through the city has been the presence of dogs in most places where I’ve laid my head… and felt comfortable.

Perhaps this isn’t a coincidence.  I mean… there are too many damn cat fanatics out there.  Strange strange creatures that they are… on the interwebz.

On my walk I would find out an expiration date: the power would be out until 8:30pm tonight.  There were “too many other emergencies” that the LADWP simply couldn’t keep up.  I looked online on my phone.  I saw the mass amounts of orange dots on the grid.  I should have taken a screenshot.  It was pretty brutal.

The aftermath of the Revenge of the 6th Power Outage in Los Angeles

Well Los Angeles, I guess this is your chance to shut the fuck up for a few minutes.  What are you going to do with your life?

I started to read.  I laughed as I thought about the power being dead on my Kindle.  About how despite the convenience of technology, how much I was still thankful for books.

For piles of analog transmissions and thumbed pages.

Of that new book smell.

Of that old book smell.

Of the joy of turning a page in anticipation of the next.

It’s these simple things that make me smile.  But the day wasn’t over just yet.

“I have a secret anger and rage for every beautiful flower.”

And I did too.  In secret.  In not so secret.

But the rains poured on.

Dogs all over the neighborhood were furious- barking constantly as if maybe that would restore the power.

Neighbors complained that they were stuck.  Technology had failed them.  They couldn’t get out of their parking garages.  After all, those were electric too.  Oh the convenience of technology.

Machines in the apartment blipped and beeped incessantly begging for power.

Begging for purpose.

Cars outside honked.  Impatience surrounded the neighborhood.  Everyone seemed to want to escape.

Everyone refused to shut the fuck up.

Everyone, it seemed, for once, except me.

I conserved what little power I had left on my phone.  I turned to books.  I turned to words.  I was going to sit there and face my demons in that silence.  In that quiet… oh in that quiet…

I’ve found myself missing pieces of my past quite a bit lately.  Yes yes I know, move forward, not backwards.  But something about this last time was different.  Something about this last one changed my life.

Before it rained, it was like something in me knew.  I sent out a message to the world.  To you, the person I really hoped would be reading.

“It’s in the quiet that I miss you most.”

So there it was… the gift of quiet.  I sat there.. in the “dark” and thought about life.  I thought about pain.  I thought about love.  I thought about success.  I thought about failure.  I thought about…

“The manic equivalent of looking in a mirror and unplugging an appliance.”

And in the silence I just.. broke down.. but not how I thought I would.

In the simplest of terms and bits and “sound bytes”… these are not all the reasons but they are the ones I will share with the rest of the world right now.

I am tired of the pain.

I am tired of the anger.

I miss the passion.

I miss the love.

I miss the vibrancy and light that exuded from us both whenever we looked at each other.

I miss your silly Barney Rubble laugh.

It was quiet.  I grabbed a pen.  The words flowed like water.  It was a downpour of inspiration.  Rain seems to have that effect on me.

And then it happened.

Someone, somewhere not too far away started playing a piano.  Beauty came from the silence.  In a world where fingers and thoughts might have been too busy to notice otherwise there was… magic.

I smiled, still quiet, in the company of notes.  Because even if I was alone I didn’t feel alone.  It made me remember the simplicity of it all.  About how far we’ve all come from it.  About how far I’d come from it.

And myself.

“It’s in the quiet… when I miss you… when I miss me… that I find all the answers.  Of all the simple beauty.  Of why I keep trying.”

Thank you LA DWP for this forced moment of silence.  It was exactly what I needed today.

Once Upon Our Time

The clock continues to tick. There never seems like there’s enough time. It’s getting closer to the “end” and I’m trying to keep as positive as possible- as that’s what you’re supposed to do on the internet or something, right?

Meanwhile the sadness starts to enter a little bit by little bit as it’s time for our ways to part a little (read: feels like long) while. And a lot can happen in that time spent alone… a lot of growth and wonderment and strength… which you’ve helped me gain with your presence and you will again with your absence.

It’s strangely bittersweet how all of this sadness is paired with the happiest I have ever been with someone. Never before have I truly felt the level of compassion, selflessness and sweetness that has been bestowed upon me by close friends. I’m hoping that it continues as this holiday season will be a hard one for me… it’s shaping up to be one with me absolutely alone.

Oddly enough amidst all the things shattering around me with losing my job right before the holidays, family shunning me from holiday activities because I am with someone, the lease running out on my apartment….
[Etcetera, etcetera]

At the end of it all there’s a light and it never goes out… and it could be more brilliant than I’d ever dreamed of.

Once upon a different bed

I remember this bed.

quite possibly the most comfortable bed ever

Hell.. I miss that bed.  It was so much nicer than the one I currently have.

Well… minus the comfort there is now.

 

I remember the bed that felt almost like a throne.  It was fashionable.  It was quirky.  It was comfortable with a warm hug of softness to it.

 

This bed has it’s own set but simply just isn’t that same level of comfort.  This one I can sometimes feel the springs.  I’ve woken up several mornings to my back hurting for reasons unbeknownst sans for.. the bed.

 

I remember that bed.

I remember the stories that unfolded on it.  Of the lovers.  Of the tears.  Of the fight to grow up and face the world yet another day.  Of the soft embrace of that pillowtop mattress.  Of the safe place I knew I could always go to.

 

“Dad, I need a new bed.  The one I have is maddening.” I’d said in between that old bed on a different mattress before this one.

This bed came with it’s own doses of complications even before it arrived.  This bed was the predicate to yet another life shed.  It was a gift but it was far from that comfort I once had… once upon a different bed.

 

The old bed was a gift as well.  Welcome to Claremont.  Welcome to the next page.  You’re going to be working harder than you ever have.  Take this awesome bed.

 

This bed still had hard work attached to it.  But the work was smarter as it was harder.  The lessons I’d learn while in this bed would outweigh the other by a landslide… even if it sometimes felt like it had fallen from one before it arrived in my room.

 

I remember that bed.

I remember the many moves that it made after its first arrival.  I remember the love and pain that went with it.  I remember its departure… of the person who would later take it and tell me “your bed is wonderful” when I thought I didn’t need it anymore.

Maybe I really didn’t.

 

This bed isn’t as comfortable as that old one was.  Its had its share of pain and stress and heart… and has the scars to prove it.  But it’s amazing.  And then some.  This bed is wonderful even if it isn’t perfect.  Perhaps it is for that very fact alone.

This bed is me.

Once upon… a better me.  Every single day I get to wake up.

 

FUCK Fear

FUCK fear.

It’s been vetoed.  It’s been overturned.  The cake was a lie and we acknowledge that you THINK you can dance/sing/write/insert thing here but…  We get that you think you know it all.  And you have the piece of paper to “prove” it but….  But what?  You’re too afraid to stand up for yourself because of some outside source?  Some inside source?

Ok, well let me remind you today that fear gets you nowhere.  If anything, it only robs you of opportunities.  Opportunities to succeed.  Opportunities to be more than you knew.  Opportunities… to learn lessons.

So please say with me.. FUCK FEAR. 

Suck it up buttercup.  Make more for yourself you baby. Yes. YOU. Baby.    Because you fucking deserve it.

Let’s review:

FUCK fear.  The new you thanks you in advance for listening.

/Class dismissed.

Where I was back then

Ten years ago I had just graduated high school and was working a crap overnight job living in Illinois with my friend Sarah’s family. I remember waking up and seeing the television with the towers smoking, but in my sleepy haze from coming in only a few hours prior I thought that I was still dreaming of superheroes.

When I woke up later that day and saw the televisions were still the same, I knew something had happened.  The talk about the events that transpired continued to late in the night… around a different television with our other friends.

We didn’t know how much the world was going to change.  I didn’t know anyone in New York or in the service.  I don’t believe my friends did either.

I remember how much travel has changed because of it.  How 10 years ago I wouldn’t think there would be anti-terrorist troops out in masses on my train ride cross town to see my dad or the massive lines of security at the airport.

I would like to say that Americans are less selfish than they used to be.  I would like to say that we have united together for something greater.

One nation under God indivisible with liberty and justice for all.

Ten years have passed and we have made some progress towards that goal.  But we still aren’t quite there yet.

Where were you when 9/11 happened? How has it changed you? I want to know.

Always Remember.

For Marie

As many of you know, my cousin- one of the most inspirational figures of my travels into the art world, passed away recently due to breast cancer.  I have been battling the sadness that comes with one of my childhood heroes fading to black since we got the call a few weeks ago that she was going to go any day now.

As the “artsy” kid of the family, I have found myself returning to thoughts of her more and more each day.  It’s made me realize how truly important to keep company with people whom inspire me.   One such person is my friend Mark.

Mark and I met through social media events, which then turned into various run-ins of art/eccentric functions.  He is someone I’ve valued and appreciated for years.  But what he did yesterday brought me to tears.

You see, Mark went to Burning Man this year.  For those of you not in the know, Burning Man is an art festival held in Black Rock City Nevada.  It is one of the most populated cities in the state for the week that it exists.  Burning Man is an event to some, but a community experience to many others.  It represents growth, transition, and artistic expression.

Each year at the end of the festival, two monuments are burned to the ground: the Man (the symbol that represents the festival), and the Temple of Transitions.  On the temple, you are encouraged to write messages that will be released to the sky.  When Mark returned he sent me the following picture of what he wrote on the temple wall:

I want you all to know that I am forever thankful for each of you.  The people we surround ourselves with assist in creating the bigger picture of our lives.  They are gifts.  Treasure them while they’re still here… and when they’re gone. Aspire to cultivate masterpieces with the people in your life.  Each and every day.