2012- A Love Letter

Dear 2012-

We’ve had a good run.  Started off with a bang, stayed strong and steadfast for many months, and only began to question each other a bit in these last few months.  Such is the story of most of my relationships.

 

And much like those, we too now must say goodbye.  Not because it wasn’t good.  But because that’s just the way things go I suppose.  So know this is not a lament for the end but a love letter for everything you were.

 

Over the last year I have been given so many opportunities.  All of my major events were successful, and even when incredibly difficult my teams came together to make it happen.  Because that’s what you do when you do what you love.  I have never felt more sure of my skills than I did this year.  And I am not one to be sure of much. 

 

I watched friends cross the finish lines of marathons that I helped to make happen. 

 

I saw children fight Darth Vader and hundred of people meet their idols.  I became friends with some of those idols. 

 

I helped a movie premiere. 

 

I stood with nearly 100 Stormtroopers on Main Street USA. 

 

I got to go on my first ever cruise.  No, I got PAID to go on my first ever cruise and there I met two legendary Disney artists and a Hollywood producer who told me to call him if I ever get to LA. 

 

I helped cut ribbons and at one of those ribbon cuttings I, among other things, called the cues for OneRepublic to begin.

But my proudest professional moment was stage managing an event for the First Lady.  I worked side by side with people from the White House, and got to meet Michelle Obama.  And she was every bit as lovely as I had hoped.  I have never been more nervous to fail in my life.  And I didn’t.  And now, all events are judged by the level of pressure I felt then.  “Hey…  It’s not like it’s the first lady.”  ;)

 

And most importantly I felt I proved myself.  I was put onto a bench for a promotion and can say I feel that I earned it through blood, sweat, and tears.  Literal blood, sweat, and tears.  Not to mention 24 hour shifts, sleepless nights, frustrations, and some damn hard work.  I can’t wait for the chance to move forward.

I wrote two shows this year that made their way to the stage.  Both of which were incredibly difficult.  Both of which I am extremely proud.  The first consisted of monologues from people in the theatre.  My love letter to the theatre I called it.  And it was.  The other took one of my favorite subjects, Alice in Wonderland, and twisted into something new.  I have never been more nervous for a concept to fail.  I have never been more proud that it didn’t.  There were parts of that show that were transformative for me.  And while, for now, I need a little break from it, I know I will come back to it some day. 

 

I started this blog, decidedly uncensored and without rules.  Just the way I like it.

I celebrated Disney buying Lucas films.  This means nothing to many of you, but much to me.

 

I was invited by someone from the White House to a presidential rally and then watched my president win the election.

 

I gained a roommate but more so a confidante, a friend, a sister.  My life is better with Whitney in it.  Everyone’s life is better with Whitney in it.

 

The Corletts came to visit me, Diane came to visit me, Jackie came to visit me, Thea came to visit me, Eric came to visit me, Anthony came to visit me, Justin came to visit me.  So much love.  So much fun.

 

I became closer to many of the friends I already had but most of all with Aron who I love and adore.

 

My friend Rob, my partner in creative crime, married the love of his life, a beautiful wonderful woman whom I adore.

 

I spent countless lunches with Larry who might be the best listener on earth.

 

I got to see Danielle and Shane in their native Detroit.

 

I saw my favorite band, Blues Traveler, not one, not two, but three times.  And one of those times was when my sister, a single mother with not much to spare, saved her money to surprise me with a trip to Boston for my birthday. And then another surprise with backstage passes.  It was magical.  Not just because of the music and the excitement of being backstage, but more so for the time spent with my sister, time making up for the 10 years we lost.  I was and am humbled.

 

It was not all perfect.  It was not always easy.  And sometimes it was decidedly very very hard.  But in those moments I never felt alone and when I reached out to anyone they were always there.  The Corlett family was at the end of one of those reaches and as they always do they reached back with an open hand that shot right out of their heart without expectation or judgment.  And I was reminded again how lucky I am to have them in my life.

 

I resigned from an organization that I love because while it pains me still, I know it was the right thing for me.

 

An old love came back into my life which was good.  And then after a time went out again.  Which was also good.  Because this time he went out on my terms because I know what I need and that he is not it.

 

My heart was broken.  But it mends well.

 

I watched a friend come much to close to the edge of death.  For weeks I watched.  But then I watched her pull herself back over the edge.  And not only did she regain her life, I gained a family.  And somehow I knew the whole time that you wouldn’t take her from us. 

 

I had dark times, but I never, ever lost sight of the light.

And I was once again reminded that of all the things I have chosen in my life, my friends have been the best of my decisions.  I have very high standards of friendship, I know that.  But though they are high they are not unreasonable and the people I allow to get close to me never fail to be even better than I ask them to be.  They love me unconditionally, appreciate my sarcasm, support me when I cannot walk on my own, encourage me when I don’t believe in myself, understand that while I can appear to be a bitch sometimes there is (as my sister put it just today) a “mush pot of love underneath”, remind me that I am needed, hold my hand when I am afraid, listen patiently when I rant, are not frightened by my passion, and never ever let me feel crazy alone.  Of all the things you gave me, 2012, the understanding of just how damn lucky I am for this and this alone is the best thing.  Thank you for that.  Thank you.

I may have forgotten a few details; you were so very good to me.  And for anything I have forgotten I am sorry.  It is not because I don’t appreciate but because the abundance was more than any one person deserves.

 

I’ve heard many friends say how happy they are for this year to end.  I know the feeling.  Last year at this time as 2011 drew to a close I could not wait to flip my calendar and start trying to remember to write a 2 instead of 1 on the date.  I was DONE with your predecessor.  It had not been kind to me.  And so you were a welcome change.  This time is different.  2013 has already called ahead to let me know that it’s going to be a bit more difficult than you were.  I’m taking a deep breath and preparing, and trying to remember that so many difficult things in my life that I did not look forward to ended up being exactly what I needed.

 

And so that is probably it then, huh?  2012 was the year of receiving the things I didn’t even know I wanted.  I suppose 2013 may be the year to receive the things I didn’t even know I needed.  That’s harder on the front end (especially for a self proclaimed control freak like me)…  But usually ends up being better for you when it’s done.  I’ll take it.  I won’t always like it.  But I will take it. 

 

But just in case, my dear 2012, if you would be so kind as to phone ahead and let 2013 know to go easy on me, I sure would appreciate it.  Think of it as your one last act of goodwill.  And in return I shall remember you favorably and sing your praises.

 

Love always,

Me

Self Preservation Scrooge

I hate Christmas.

 

I mean I love it.  But I hate it.

 

I love the lights and the ornaments and ribbon.

 

I love Santa and magic and heart.

 

I love the spirit of giving and people walking around smiling at each other and generosity.

 

I love White Christmas and Miracle on 34^th Street (the original only please), The Year Without a Santa Claus, and Love Actually.  And I love the movie It’s A Wonderful Life with such affection it is as though it were a person.

 

Sweaters and snow and sleigh bells and Christmas music and Christmas trees.

 

I love those things.

 

But

 

I hate never having enough money to buy presents for all the people I want to.  And trying to get so much done into just a few weeks be it wrapping presents or sending cards or going around doing the holiday stuff that you can only see this time of year.

 

I hate when people you had no intention of giving a card give you a card and then you have to stress over whether you will look like an asshole if you don’t now give them one in return.

 

I hate those damn white skeleton reindeer light up lawn ornaments that move just slightly…  People…  They are creepy.  Not pretty.  Creepy.

 

I hate feeling like a jerk when I finally have to start saying that no, I would not like to donate $3 to whatever charity the store I am at is supporting because I’ve already given $3 twenty times.  They don’t know I’ve already given and given and given.  And I just look like a cheap bastard.

 

I always send presents late, if I remember to send them at all.

 

I hate the time and commitment it takes to decorate your living room, your lawn, your office, your tree.  You ought to be able to just wake up and find it all done for you.  It’s a freakin magical time of year after all.

 

I hate the disappointment that comes when you tell yourself that this year it will be better and it’s not.  Of course, that’s probably just my Christmas experience, not yours. 

 

There was a time in my family where every Christmas was worse than the last.  Major drama.  Major issues.  Major disappointments.  To be clear: Christmas sucked.  It’s leveled off, but remains a time of year when I feel the need to constantly be on guard for the Christmas curse.  And yes, that is what we called it.  The Christmas curse…  Being that we felt it necessary to name it, you might appreciate how it can be a little difficult.

 

If you are lucky enough, as most people are, to not have a Christmas curse then Christmas is a wonderful time of year if you have at least one of three things- a significant other, a close family, or money.

 

I have none of these.

 

While everybody says it’s not the presents that matter, we all know that to most people that’s a damn lie.  And we all know how good it makes us feel to give someone something that you know they want or that you know they will love.  It’s not that we are expecting extravagant things.  It’s not that we want to buy extravagant things for others.    But if you don’t have money it makes every possible gift an agonizing choice.  Even the little that you can do becomes a burden to figure out that you can do.  And then someone you weren’t expecting to give you a present gives you one and you’d like to give them one in return but you weren’t planning on it and so you’re whole budget goes out of whack if you reciprocate.

 

No significant other.  I’m not whining about it.  It’s just the way it is.  And all this lovey dovey crap is always better when you have someone to be lovey dovey with.  Nuff said.

 

And close family.  I love my family.  But there are few of them, they are spread out, and they don’t all get along with each other.  So I spend holidays trying to be careful about what I say to each to not make them sad or angry or uncomfortable.  And in the process it makes me a little sad and angry and uncomfortable sometimes.  I feel bad for each side.  And I feel bad that there are sides at all.  It’s a lonely feeling to be stuck in the middle.  It’s probably lonely on the sides to.  But in the middle you get to see what everybody is missing and if you are like me, someone who feels deeply and hurts for others, it breaks your heart. 

 

There are people in my family that I don’t speak to anymore because of disappointments of the past.  And while I know that my life is actually better without them in it, it doesn’t mean that I don’t miss a time when things were different.  Especially at Christmas.

 

And there are people in my family who have just been out of my life for a long time.  People I would welcome back in a heartbeat but who, for their own reasons, can’t be welcomed back right now.

 

We have few traditions, nothing passed on from earlier generations, no rituals to look forward to and bind us together.  A family is defined in part by those things.  How are you defined when you have no definitions?

 

On many holidays, but especially on Christmas, I see the facebook posts from friends describing the wonderful, relaxing, perfect day they had.  No literally many of them call the day perfect.  And I don’t begrudge them their perfect day.  I think it’s wonderful.  I’d like a little bit of that wonderful.  Just a little bit.  Just once in awhile.  I’d like to look forward to Christmas day, instead of feeling that familiar mix of dread and pre-disappointment. 

 

I don’t want to hate Christmas.  Really I don’t.  Because I love it at the same time (and isn’t it true that there is no worse feeling than not being able to help hating something you want very very badly to love).  Maybe someday I will get that chance.  This was not the year for that kind of change.  I have lots and lots of magic in my life.  Just never at the most magical time of year for all the rest of you.

 

So…  When I bah humbug a little too loudly for your taste.  Maybe cut me a little bit of slack.  I want to be merry and bright.  But I’m just not good at faking it.

In Defense of Mistakes To Grammar Nazis Everywhere

For the record- I am an intelligent, educated person.  I have a BA in theatre and minored in writing in undergrad.  I have a Masters of Science in Interdisciplinary Arts Education.  I am a thesis away from my MFA in Creative Writing with a double emphasis in Playwriting and Creative Non-Fiction.

 

I don’t tell you all of this to brag.

 

I tell you all of this to show that I’m not an idiot.

 

This is important to know because what I am about to tell you may lead you to believe otherwise.

 

I am an anti-grammar Nazi. 

 

I can hear the gasps echoing through the universe from my intelligent, educated friends.  These are people who feel physical pain when someone incorrectly uses your instead of you’re, to instead of too.  It wounds their soul to see the English language used incorrectly.

 

I should be one of those people.

 

I am not.

 

In fact if it weren’t for the internet I’m not even sure I would be so aware of the issue. 

 

I will admit that I notice it sometimes.  But I don’t think less of the perpetrator of such a crime. 

 

I just sort of don’t care.

 

And I admit- I am often the perpetrator.

 

(Somewhere my favorite high school English teacher just passed out.)

 

Your

You’re

 

To

Too

 

They’re

Their

 

Its

It’s

 

These are just a few of the things I commonly mix up.  Not because I don’t know the difference.  I do.

 

There are two reasons I do it.  First, I have believed for many years that I have a very mild (and yes, self diagnosed) form of dyslexia.  If you ever chat with me online you have probably noticed that it is not unusual for me to swap letters, particularly vowels.  I usually catch it almost immediately.  But in order to not do it I have to be concentrating.  This has been true all my life, ever since I could write I swapped letters around.  Even in handwritten notes I catch it quickly.  So I suppose it is more like my hands are dyslexic but my brain is not.  Like I have retrained my brain to make sure my eyes see the difference most of the time, but it hasn’t quite relayed the message to my hands.  When I was a kid I can recall making a very conscious decision that this would not deter me.  And I wouldn’t let anyone know.  Back then if you had a learning disability you were branded stupid, at least in my little town.  I didn’t want to be stupid.  And I didn’t want anyone to have any more reason than they already had to make fun of me.  So I kept it a secret.  I still mostly keep it a secret.  (Until now I suppose.)  Because I’ve learned to get around it.  I’ve earned advanced degrees.  And have found ways to hide it.  Except in these commonly mistaken words to which I pay little attention.  They are my tell in the English poker face I worked so hard to develop. 

 

The second reason?  I just don’t care.  (CHOKE*GASP*WHEEZE* went the educated among us.)  I just don’t.  I am a writer.  Yes.  And I love the English language.  Yes.  But you know what?  I just don’t care about words like to and too, they’re and their.  Particularly in my informal communication, texts and facebook, even this blog.  These are meant to be cursory thoughts, fleeting moments of observation, genuine and spontaneous expressions of joy, love, pain, aggravation, fear, insert emotion here.  I spell words incorrectly, use punctuation incorrectly, and often, very very often, end my sentences with a preposition.  For those of you who grammar rules come easy to you may be able to be impulsively perfect.  I cannot.  Add to this, these words seem so arbitrary to me, clouding my sentences because they have to be there for the words that matter.  There are so many other words that need my attention, scream for it even.  There are choices to be made between beautiful, exquisite, and gorgeous.  Decisions as to whether frightening, terrifying, or just plain scary is the word that fits.  Is my character sad, gloomy, or miserable?  Am I happy, elated, or ecstatic?  The other words in my sentence are like underwear, necessary to support but not meant to be seen (unless you are stripping down the sentence and really looking).  I put them in and then cover them up.

 

It is simply a matter of priorities.  Neither better nor worse, just different. 

 

So my Grammar Nazi friends, you are correct.  You will always be correct.  We grammar criminals concede that you are and will always be correct.  And we may even concede that in this way you may be a bit more intelligent than the rest of us.  And by all means, if I am writing something professional or I ask you to read something, correct away!

 

But I bet there are some things that other people find to be simple, big fat “duh’s” that you find difficult.

 

Parallel parking.

 

Cooking.

 

Memorization.

 

Math.

 

Telling a joke.

 

Singing.

 

Sudoku.

 

Cross Word Puzzles.

 

Sports.

 

 

Do I need to go on?

 

So the next time you see one of us do something that offends the Grammar Nazi inside of you maybe cut us just a teeny bit of slack.  We’re not stupid.  We just don’t see the same things you do.

30 Thankful Thoughts

Over the past month I have seen people posting on Facebook their month of thanks, stating something they are thankful for each and every day.

 

I tried this once.  I think I stopped after day 5.  There are few things I am so committed to that I can remember to do them each and every day.  Brushing my teeth.  Having a cup of coffee.

 

Yep.  That’s about it.

 

Plus there are days when you’re aggravated and people are annoying you and the frustration prevents you from being Suzy Sunshine.

 

And then of course, there are the days when things really are rough.  When it’s hard to be grateful, for anything. 

 

And you know what?  That’s ok.

 

Maybe I can’t remember to post why I am grateful everyday.  But I do think it.  All the time.

 

So on this Thanksgiving I will do what I do best…  Shove all the work I have procrastinated for the past month into a few minutes.

 

My 30 Thankful Thoughts (In No Particular Order)

 

1)

I am thankful for my heart.  This, mind you, is not some reference to my love or generosity or kindness.  I’m talking about the actual muscle that is my heart.  It’s over now so I feel comfortable talking about it, but a few months ago I had a bit of a scare.  While sitting at my desk one day my heart began to pound.  Out of the blue.  And I felt like someone was pushing on my back.  Scared. The. Shit. Out. Of. Me.  My father was 38 when he died from heart issues.  I am 32.  The math is not good.  It frightened me right into a cardiologist’s office.  I did tests, wore a heart monitor, and generally freaked out for about 4 weeks.  All while telling 2 maybe 3 people because I didn’t want anyone else to freak out with me.  Not until there was something to freak out about.

 

Turns out there was nothing to freak out about.  I’m fine.  My heart is fine. It’s better than fine.  It is surprisingly healthy and strong and in very good shape according to the Doc.  Whatever that heart pounding moment was, it was a fluke.  And I am very very grateful.

 

2)

I am thankful for my job.  Anyone who knows me knows this is true.  I am one of the lucky ones, working doing exactly what I love. 

 

3)

I am thankful for my friends.  I am so so fortunate to have the people in my life that I do.  I have high standards for the people I let, intentionally, into my life.  I am lucky to be surrounded by people who not only meet those standards but exceed them on a daily basis. 

 

4)

I am thankful for my family.  Usually when people say this they have very close, usually large extended families.  This is not my life.  So I am thankful in a different way.  Because I know what it means to not have family in your life.  So those who remain are precious to me.

 

5)

I am thankful for the fact that I suffer from the problem of clutter.  It means I have abundance, more than I need.  As difficult as things may be sometimes, I know that relatively speaking my problems are small.

 

6)

I am thankful for Facebook.  I know this will sound trite to some, but I mean this as sincerely as I mean anything else.  I am terrible about keeping in touch with people.  Facebook keeps me connected.  It keeps me informed about their lives and makes me feel like they are a part of mine. 

 

7)

I am thankful for my roommates.  I tell people all the time I have the best husband and wife in the world.  They’re kind of awesome.  And I have lived in some not awesome situations.  I am lucky.

 

8)

I am thankful for my ability to know when I have reached my limits.  And know when to reach out for help.

 

9)

I am thankful for my education.  Even if it is something I will be paying for for a long long time.

 

10)

I am thankful for technology like my cell phone, my blackberry, my IPod, when I get the privilege of using one, Ipads.  Without these things I would feel so disconnected and for someone like me who is, surprisingly, in many ways an introvert, these things force me to stay connected when it would be easier to retreat.

 

11)

I am thankful for books, the fact that I was encouraged all my life to read them, and that I love them still.

 

12)

I am thankful that I have food on my table (usually cooked by one of my awesome roommates) and clothes on my back.

 

13)

I am thankful that I have not had it easy.  Ask me another day and I may change my tune.  But for the most part I know that the things I have experienced have made me into the person I am, strong and capable and self aware.  If life had been smooth I would have had no reason to fight.  And fighting made me resilient.

 

14)

I am thankful for the really pretty amazing year I have had.  This alone is worthy of its own blog post, there have been too many amazing things to list.  Things like meeting the First Lady.  Things like seeing my favorite band 3 times, and being backstage at one of those concerts.  Things like a surprise trip to Boston for my birthday.  I am so very very lucky.

 

15)

I am thankful that President Obama was reelected.

 

16)

I am thankful that I still believe that people are mostly good at heart.

 

17) 

I am thankful for living in a beautiful place, minutes from destinations that some people save their whole lives to get to.

 

18)

I am thankful for music and art and literature and film.

 

19)

I am thankful for my ability to write.  Without it I’m pretty sure I would lose my mind.

 

20)

I am thankful for better living through chemistry.

 

21)

I am thankful for Tavern nights.

 

22)

I am thankful to have the kind of friends who want to come over on a Saturday night, hang out in their pajamas, watch SNL, and eat pizza.

 

23)

I am thankful that although she is not yet home, Nishi is alive and awake and aware and getting better and stronger everyday.  And I am thankful that I have become ever closer to her wonderful family.

 

24)

I am thankful to live in a country where I am free.  Free to live as I wish and free to disagree, openly, with anyone I please.  Sometimes including my government.

 

25)

I am thankful for Starbucks.  Really just caffeine in general.

 

26)

I am thankful to finally have the courage to say that there are things I am good at.

 

27)

I am thankful for my ability to find humor in the most unlikely places.

 

28)

I am thankful that I know this is not how the story has to end.

 

29)

I am thankful for hope.

 

30)

Above all, I am thankful that I love too fiercely, work too hard, laugh too loud, cry too easily,  expect too much, trust too readily, give too freely, sleep too little, and believe to freely.  These are my worst faults and my greatest strengths.  They are me.  And I am grateful to be myself.

Beautiful Freak

I had discovered this several years ago, but had forgotten until now.

 

In Australia my last name is a colloquial juxtaposition that means

Beautiful Freak.

 

Like someone who is pretty but a “bad” person.

 

Or

 

Someone who is not very attractive but a “good” person.

 

Beautiful Freak.

 

Two words.  So much description.  So much truth.

Beautiful Freak.

 

I want to wrap myself in those words.

 

But then, really I already have.

 

Beautiful Freak.

Warmth and cold.

 

Light and dark.

 

Desirable and solitary.

 

Everything you want and everything you don’t.

 

All wrapped into one.

That’s me.

 

That’s all of me.

 

In two perfect words.

 

Beautiful Freak.

Not Like Them

She looks nervous. 

 

Did they tell you what to expect?  I ask.

 

“Sort of,” she responds.

 

I change seats, coming closer to her so the others don’t have to hear the description of what they have already seen.  She’s never been in an ICU before.  She doesn’t know what she will see.  If she can handle it.  And knowledge is power, even when you’re powerless.

 

She’s got a lot of machines hooked up to her, ok?  But they are mostly just monitors.  It’s a good thing.  So they know right away when something is wrong.  And there is a tube coming out of her mouth.  That is the ventilator.  What’s making sure she breathes.  It’s about this big, maybe like a quarter?  And right now there’s a tube coming out of her nose and sometimes some gunk comes out of it.  No big deal.  It’s supposed to happen.   It’s a good thing.  Getting out all the gunk.  And there’s a lot of other tubes and wires and stuff, and those compression boot things on her feet and legs, you know to keep it all circulating.  And she’s really swollen. But you have to remember that as swollen as she looks it was much worse a couple days ago.  So it’s a good thing.  I mean, not the swelling, but how she looks today as compared to the other day.  She’s in a good place.  You have to keep that in mind.  Ok?

 

She nods her head.  Thanks me for preparing her.  She still looks uneasy, but not so shrunken anymore.

 

One more thing, I say.  She’s almost at the end of the unit.  She’s in bed 25.  You have to go past 24 beds before you get to hers.  And you know how when you walk past regular rooms and all the doors are closed and you can’t see the beds?  This isn’t like that.  The doors are all open.  You’re supposed to be able to see them, you know?  So the nurses can always see.  But you, you don’t want to see.  Ok?  Because there’s a lot of sick people in an ICU. But if you’ve never done this, you need to not look.  Because some of them…  Some of them are pretty grim.  But the girl you’re going to see?  The one in bed 25?

 

And for this I wait for her eyes to meet mine.

 

Our girl is not like them.

 

She’s not like them.

 

Do you understand?

 

She nods.

 

You can look on the way out if you want.  It’s weird, seeing a stranger like that.  But it can’t always be helped.  But on the way in, you find a way to help it.  Look at the floor.  Better yet, look at the nurses.  Look at the strong, healthy people who are taking care of the people here.  Look at how busy they are, busy saving people’s lives.  That’s what they do here. 

 

Do you understand?

 

She nods.

 

She’s not like them.  And you need to remind yourself of that all the way out.  Because it’s true.

 

She nods.

 

It’s her turn.  She disappears for a little while.  When she returns she looks stronger.  Braver. 

 

Are you ok?  I ask.

 

She is.  Because she looked at the nurses.  Saving people’s lives.  And saw the girl, just as I described her.  And she believes, she’s not like them.

Who Are You Voting For?

This election is not about policies and politics. It is not about who is right and who is wrong. It is about people. It is about you and me and the people we love.

I am voting for Barack Obama because Romney's immigration policies would have kept my friend Daniel, an upstanding, educated, contributing member of society, married to an American citizen and father of an American citizen, illegal and unable to pursue becoming an American citizen, which he did.

I am voting for Barack Obama because when my roommate Whitney, someone who has been employed full time in her job for several years, got a horrifically painful stress fracture in her foot she could not afford to go to a doctor because she has no insurance. I watched her in excruciating pain for weeks because she knew the necessary x-rays would cost her hundreds of dollars she does not have.

I am voting for Barack Obama because I know that teachers like my friend Sarah are already fighting an uphill battle to educate our children enough to survive, let alone succeed. They and we cannot afford anymore cuts to funding.

I am voting for Barack Obama because if Romney has his way, the marriage of my friend Paul to his long time partner, one of the most beautiful and supportive relationships I have ever had the pleasure to witness, would be invalidated.

I am voting for Barack Obama because I don’t want my sister Karre's children or the children of my friends to suffer the same financial burdens I have in order to receive an education. I don’t want these incredibly intelligent kids to ever have to make a choice on learning based on their wallet. I never want the rest of us to suffer the loss of the contributions these beautiful kids could make to society because they could not afford to get the training they need to do so.

I am voting for Barack Obama because when I was in college with no insurance, Planned Parenthood was the only access I had to healthcare and they were able to help me with EXCRUTIATING pain caused by endometriosis. I never want my friends or their daughters to not have that option.

I am voting for Barack Obama because I believe that all the women I know should get paid just as much as the men I know for doing the same job. And because the fact that we are still talking about this in the year 2012 is nothing less than tragic.

I am voting for Barack Obama because the people I know who choose to work as independent contractors rather than for major corporations, who still pay income tax like everyone else, should have access to health care that won’t put them into bankruptcy.

I am voting for Barack Obama because I will not support anyone who tells my friends who they are allowed to love. I will not support anyone who tells them they are second class citizens because they are different than me or you. I would tag them… But there are so many. Because I know that having people in my life who are different than me, who love differently than me, makes me a better person.

I am voting for Barack Obama because I know that PBS was a huge contributing factor to my development as a person, starting with basic learning from shows like Sesame Street when I was a kid, all the way through the things I watch today that help open my eyes to the rest of the world.

I am voting for Barack Obama because I know that more of the people we know than you think have received government assistance to support their families, not because they are lazy, but because they were strong enough to ask for help before it was too late.

I am voting for Barack Obama because I know that in this country, the law says you can believe whatever you want to believe. But you can’t force me to believe it too. And you can’t legislate me into believing it.

I am voting for Barack Obama because of all the things I believe in, first and foremost I believe in love. And that love reminds me that I am not voting for issues, I am voting for people. When someone asks me “Who are you voting for?” I know that the true answer to that is not a candidate; it is the name of the candidate who represents the people I love, my friends, my family, my co-workers. I do not vote for me. I vote for them. And because of this, my choice is clear.

So, ask yourself. Who am I voting for? And then act accordingly.

Body Before Brain

There is this boy.  I could tell you the whole of our history, the three incarnations of our relationship, each one ending for a different reason. 

And the same reason. 

I could tell you how each of the three times we tried to make something work were different from each other, a new version of an attraction that was so intense, neither one of us really understood how to make it into what we needed.  But the important thing to know is that it ended.

And that there was a time when I thought I could someday love this boy.

That possibility has passed.  Long since passed.  For many reasons.  For so so many reasons.  But still, when he called not long ago and wanted to try yet another version of our failure, it took every ounce of nerve I had to say, not this time.  The third time was not the charm.  And it left me feeling empty.  And I can’t let you make me feel empty anymore.  It’s not what you mean to do.  It’s maybe not even your fault in a way.  But it’s the (possibly) unintended consequence of your inability to someday love me too.

So I said no.  And that was the end of that.  And I know it was the right decision.  Because I can’t afford anything that makes me feel empty.  And it cannot afford me. 

And then today he appeared.  It was seconds.  Maybe ten.  Probably less.  It’s been so long since I had seen him, 7 maybe 8 months.  And he was out of place where I saw him.  Squarely on my turf.  Smack in the middle of the corner of my world he was never ever part of.  So out of place and so long since I saw him last that it took me a minute to connect the dots.  And there were dots to connect.  Because when I saw him I stopped talking.  Forgot for a split second where I was.  Heard nothing the people talking to me were saying.  It was a little like a movie, when the camera pans to the door and then stops, the only clear thing in the frame the person you are supposed to see.  My heart began to race, and I felt my stomach flutter. 

Just for a second.

And all before I realized who it was.

Because you see,

My body recognized him before my brain did.

My body, the subconscious part of me that knows him so well, that knows him so well that it recognized his energy before it recognized his face, the part of me that recognized his energy from the moment he first walked through a door many years ago before I even knew his face, that part of me is still in there somewhere. 

Buried.  Because it has to be.  Because it’s over.  Because he made it that way.  Because I want things he cannot give me. 

Like something to fill the empty.  Which he can’t do.  Because he doesn’t know how to be a part of something.  He knows only how to attract.

And a magnet never fills anything, it just pulls things in.

And I am not one to be moved without my permission.

When Waiting Is Enough

I’ve spent the last week in an ICU waiting room.

A girl, a 23 year old girl.

 

Technically a woman, I know.  But you get to a point when anyone younger than you is a girl or boy.  I’m there.

 

She’s on life support.  She’s been asleep for 7 days.  But slowly, very very slowly, showing signs of progress.

I know this girl.  Not well.  But I know her.  Before this I knew her brother well.  I knew her mother a little.  I’d met her father once.  Now I know them all.  Aunts, uncles, grandparents, friends.  And I love them.  With all my heart.

 I went the first day to stay for a little while and left after 10 hours.  Because I wanted to do something.  Anything.  Anything to make them feel just a little bit better.  And the only thing I could do…  Was wait.

It wasn’t enough, is still not enough.  But it’s all that I can do.   

The waiting room for an intensive care unit is an odd place, the most perfectly awful mixture of hope and anxiety.

 

There was another family the first day.  And the second day.  But not the third.  The first day for the family I know was difficult.  But the second day was better.  And the next day was better.  And as aunts and uncles and friends arrived, they buoyed each other in the way that families are supposed to. 

They are strong.  And brave.  And beautiful. 

 

As the girl I know grew a little stronger, the man the other family knew grew weaker.

As we began to smile and laugh and talk too loud and relax a little, the other family grew more fragile.

Sometimes I wanted to tell them we were sorry.  But we weren’t sorry.  Sorry for their suffering, yes.  But not sorry for our hope. 

The people I knew, they needed to laugh and love and wear their bravery right on their sleeve. 

They needed their energy to say, “Not today universe.  And not tomorrow.  And not for a long long time.  You don’t scare us.  She’s ours.  And we’re not finished with her yet.”

And on the third day, the man they knew ended his fight.

And on the third day, the girl I know showed us hers was not over.

On the third day they were leaving as I arrived, huddled together in the hall, a nurse on her knees talking to the matriarch of the family, slumped in a wheelchair.  Patting her hand.  My eyes met those of one of the others, a daughter I assume.  I wanted to tell her how sorry I was.  I wanted to hug her.  I wanted to hold her hand.  You develop this unspoken relationship with the other people in the room.  I didn’t say or do any of those things.  But she knew.  And her eyes thanked me.  And told me, it’s ok.  We’re going to be ok.  And they are.

And so is the family I know.

 

The girl is getting stronger every day.

 

And so are the people who love her.

 

And when she wakes up they have so much to tell her about what happened while she was sleeping.

Like the movie.

But better.

 

Until then

They wait.

And I wait.

With them.

 

For them.

 

For her.

 

Because it’s not enough.

 

But it’s all I can do.

Welcome to my new blog.

 

 

No theme. 

 

No rules.

 

No one style.

 

Just me.

 

And the things that make me think.

 

And the things that make me write.

 

And the moments that need more than what they were.

 

And everything I meant to say.

 

And probably things I didn’t.