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 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.

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.

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.

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.

Carmageddon: The Aftermath

Dear Los Angeles,

So I see you that have survived the feared inferno of “Carmageddon”. You rocked the happy hour specials. You steered your four wheeled vessels clear of the freeways in fear of losing your ever so precious time sitting parked on the freeway for hours upon hours.

You chose to not clutter the streets with aggravation. For a few glorious days, there was a silent peace decorated on asphalt. People were drawn in droves to the otherwise bickered about public transportation. There wasn’t arguing with the hurried commuter in the other car, bike, or motorcycle trying to get to x function. There were no stretched necks as accident after accident piled up to make the drive home from work, play, or errands a little longer. There was less noise and pollution.

The 405 is opening as I type this. It bids one to wonder if the community has learned anything from this exercise. How will the Los Angeles community change? How have you changed for the greater good?

Los Angeles once had the greatest public transit system in the world. Nowadays, people dread the thought of taking a bus, a train, or a bike in lieu of a car. This weekend proved that the community here is so ambivalent to change that, rather than embrace the possibilities of other alternatives, would rather just not participate at all.

This weekend Los Angeles biker community advocates Wolfpack Hustle embarked on a 40 mile race against an airline proved the power of the human versus the machine. In a race won by pedal pushers that generated substantial buzz, why are the Los Angeles bike paths lacking in comparison to other major metropolitan cities?

Now that Carmageddon has come and gone, as a business person, are you going to take heart the relief and production capabilities of a happier worker that has not had to “deal” with traffic for one day? Are you going to provide more of an incentive to take public transit?

As a regular commuter are you going to make a more proactive attempt to take public transit when you can? Will you take an extra few minutes to walk down the street to that cafe for brunch or the extra few blocks to the grocery store?

It’s time the community took a big look at the bigger picture. We have the power to carve this city into something greater if we unify ourselves. Time is a precious commodity but so is a calmer, healthier way of life. Instead of putting one in front of the other, perhaps both are capable of happening. Dare to be a part of the change.

E3 2010: A week to remember… and forget?

Traffic jams and riots.  A center filled with flash, glitzy signs… and hordes of nerds.

Welcome to E3 2010: the Lakers are in game 7 edition.

I watched the downpour of exclamations for the latest and greatest toys of the moment on various twitter and facebook feeds.  I checked up on the news on some of my favorite (perhaps biased) news outlets.

Strangely enough, with the exception of that first day, I really didn’t care as much about weather I’d be able to attend or not.  The thrill of E3 just wasn’t what it used to be.

I thought about it and wondered- what changed?  At one time I was so determined to go to as many events as I could.  Nothing would satiate my palate.  Events that I was told I couldn’t get into?  I didn’t take no for an answer.  I’m bad with no’s sometimes.  This- one of the most major conferences of the year would have been a given that I wouldn’t accept that.   Was it that I had just become numb from one too many?  I mean, I have been to quite a few…

I swear I'm not an addict...

There are a few conferences a year which rank up there in high importance to me: professionally and personally.  Last year I was told I would not get into 2 of them: E3 and E4all only to somehow find a way.  I honestly didn’t expect it this time.  It just… well sort of found me.  It is a happenstance that has been occurring quite a bit these past few months.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy I was able to attend- albeit only a day and for miscellaneous parties on time in between work and well, more work.  It was more than enough.

This year is the first in many that I was not attending as Press.  Instead, it was a covert operation made possible by one fellow Culver City crusader as I played the part as someone… in town from Turtle Beach.

Walking the halls of the Staple Center this year was a window into my past.  I barely work in gaming nor have I been penning as a journey from the sidelines currently.  I have been swallowed whole by a different world and popped right back again.

It’s the wee hours of the morning at my last day of contract work for a toy company with a small MMO in beta- and in the silence of the office, I’m left to think about the proceeding days off and into the world of my past.

It seems that this time of year is an intersection.  This year, however more than others.  But we’ll dig deeper into why later.

People from all over the globe come together to this spot.  Like many other conferences, the attendees share a passion.  Fundamentally this is one that has been something that holds a very special place in my heart.  It is one of two most prominent forms of entertainment for me since childhood: video games and comic books.

I arrived late.  A meeting with a client after a very full night out to a couple of parties the night prior had me on a bit of a later start that I had planned.  Add to that the extra chaotic parking fubar of a big city full to the brim.

I got lost in the city.  I don’t know how that’s possible considering I’ve been here nearly 3 years but it happened.  It has happened quite a bit since I’ve lived here but given that it’s a huge convention center it’s a bit of a stretch even for me.

I’d gotten lost the night prior as well.  After being accompanied to find my car by one who claimed to know the way but apparently had too many free drinks at the Cheap Ass Gamer after party at the Golden Gopher I ended up in an area not my home.  I am positive it was not from the amount I imbibed.  I have been cutting back considerably and only had a couple of beers despite it being open bar.  It was peculiar.  This month has been full of moments like these:  of journeys and arrivals to destinations unknown.

My cohort greeted me.   I would assume this alter ego as I walked the halls with the rest of the entourage.  I met up with my best friends from Fantastic Forum.  But my day was mostly spent with the crew of Angry Bananas.

The boys showed me the ropes of what had been missed of the con so far.  Luchadores. Epic Mickey. Move. The new dance game.  The Comic game.  Marvel vs. Capcom.

And as much fun as I had while walking around, I still found myself somewhere else.

E3 has been a week where I will see people and get messages from my past.  Failed lovers.  Secret affairs.  Near romances.  Friends from past lives.  Of people known digitally from cross country and halfway around the globe.

It is a time where I remember where I have been.  Of the collection of people both good and bad I have had in my life.  How they’ve effected me.  How they have colored the canvas.

I was only there one day but it was enough.

To the lovers I have had in the past.  To my former coworkers.  To the people I have met along the way…

Thank you.

This hasn’t been the easiest time for me.  It’s a test.  I am breakable.  But I am capable of being repaired.  Time and time again.

Time and time will pass again.

And while not all of my intersections this year brought up the best of memories, I feel stronger because of them.

I’m looking forward with anticipation of the unknown… of next year and the next conference and the other miscellaneous destinations that I arrive and exit along the way.

Mr Perfect

Back when you were younger do you remember those “Little Miss” books?

Well, a little while back, when I was out and about with a friend in Westwood we stopped in a gift store called Aah’s!  Walking in, you essentially knew what you were getting into.  Everyone has been to those cheesy shops at some point in their lives.  Some, more so than others.  It was littered with silly gag gifts and other assorted randomness.

Most of the time you walk into shops like that just for the experience of them.  Rarely, if ever do you buy something or know someone that does.  At least, not unless they are in their teens or know someone who is about to hit 40.

That night though I did find something.  I found a couple of things actually.  One is indeed silly and I may have to return to get it to send to someone important.  The other?  A few buttons that I put on the messenger bag that I carry most everywhere.  This story is about one button in particular- one that had the image and name of one called “Mr. Perfect.”

Little did I know, that perhaps that was a magnet for the person I would soon find to be my Mr. Perfect- HOM.

After we met it seemed very odd that the button mysteriously fell off my bag.  I put it in my pocket and held it close.  It was as if fate was telling me something…

The button is still in my pocket.  I want not to draw in anyone else.  I firmly believe that I found what I was looking for, even if it may or may not be the right time for it to happen.

Muse for Hire trudges on… those cranes have not been finished yet.  I realize more and more that I know where pure inspiration comes from.  That perhaps I already knew.

Mr. Perfect is in my pocket.  The dream is still there.  I lived it and think about it…but I don’t think about it.  I know that even if it wasn’t him… then damn I came the closest that I’ve ever gotten to it yet.

In the aftermath of the nuclear blast (a story which I am still devoted to help him pen) there is a sole survivor.

I wonder if Mr. Perfect will return and grace the nights and days with that light again or if the light that burns twice as bright will burn out twice as fast yet again.

To you my dear, I would Walk Through Hell.

I really firmly believe that there was a reason why we encountered eachother.  That there was a bit of serendipity.  That it was about something more.  It was real.  It was tangible.  It was… a movie that I will never forget.

I care about you more than you know.

I’m sorry that things turned out the way they did that day.  We were supposed to be flying kites high above the sky… the week that we had made me feel like that inside.

There are things I want to show you.  Experiences that I still want to have with you.  Mr. Perfect… you are everything I always wanted and more.

If you’d only let me.

If only

If only

If only.

I miss you my dearest.  I am looking for that way home… as I said before, San Diego my heart is yours.  This time, more than ever do I know that to be true.

 

 

 

 

 

Letter(s) HOM(e)