Twelve Years

In the early morning hours of August 30, 1997, my world was turned upside down. I had just been married about 8 hours prior, which is enough to turn anyone's world on its head. That meant moving to a new home and becoming a step-mom. Again, plenty of upheaval. And I had just begun a new job less than 90 days prior--again, major shifts in my world.

But nothing compared to the call I received the early morning hours of August 30, 1997--the night my mother passed away. She had just been at my wedding those few short hours earlier. The last thing I had said to her was "I'll see you tomorrow, Mom. I love you." We weren't leaving for a honeymoon, since money was tight, so I would have been able to see her. In fact, I did see her, though she didn't see me.

My mom left us with one piece of advice that sets us free--she said "When I'm gone, don't feel obligated to come to my gravesite--I won't be there." So even though it's the anniversary, I feel like it's my choice whether I go to the cemetery, because I honor her memory every day. The things I say are so influenced by who she was that I lose track sometimes of what originates with me and what she instilled. Whenever I see extended family, they comment on just how much I look and sound like her.

So here's to you, Mom: You were the best, and even after 12 years I still miss you every day.

Sis Me

I was born a sister. I already had two siblings at birth, and one followed shortly behind. I had a pretty good handle on what it takes to be a sister. But as I was getting older and didn't have kids of my own, I thought it would be nice to reach out to the community and do something constructive to give back.

So two years ago, I signed up to be an official "Big Sister" through Big Brothers/Big Sisters. I was matched with a young girl, and we have been seeing each other regularly since then. Every week or two I pick her up and we do something together...summer has often had us swimming at my sister's pool, we've been to Chuck E. Cheese a couple of times, or most often we go to the movies.

There have been ups and downs. I have lost two jobs in the past two years, forcing me to limit my outings with her for budget reasons. Her mother, who had signed her and her sister up for the program moved out of state, forcing the girls to move in with their father, 20 miles away. Then I moved, so my home is actually 50 miles from hers now. The program actually limits the distance to 10 miles, to ease the burden on the "Big". However, I love my "Little", and I continue to see her even though the distance is inconvenient.

I knew that I would be making a difference in her life, and I'm glad that I have been a constant for her during phases of her life that seemed in perpetual flux. I didn't realize that she would make a difference to me. My refrigerator is covered in art that she has made for me. She freely hugs me and tells me she loves me...she introduces me to her friends and confides her secret crushes. She wants to share her snacks with me at the movies because she is a "big sister" and is used to splitting things, though I desperately try to give her things that she can claim as her own.

There are many ways to impact the world. You could say one little girl won't make all that much of a difference. But I'd say "It makes a difference to this one." And to this Big girl, too.

District 9 kicked my a$$

I just saw District 9 tonight. I knew it was getting rave reviews, and I knew to expect a bit of gore. I don't normally tolerate that too well, but the reviews (including the linked one in my title, from my friend Luke Y. Thompson) were too encouraging to ignore. Plus, I knew my boyfriend would love it...he's a fan of aliens.

What I didn't know, and couldn't have anticipated, was that it moved me to tears more than once. It's so easy to marginalize "other"-ness in people, and to treat them as less than simply because they are different than.

District 9 graphically exposed what that marginalization looks like. The example of man's inhumanity was disturbing, and made me weep for my race. I am moved beyond words, and encourage anyone who happens upon this post to go see this film.

Festering Loneliness

So there's a guy in Pennsylvania who was lonely, and after too many years of being lonely, he went on a shooting rampage. Because, somehow, that would solve his loneliness...? No, because it would vent his anger at the supposed instigators--women.

I'm not going to talk about gun control, I'm not going to talk about this particular whack job, I'm not even going to be so callous as to say that this made me glad I don't go to the gym. What I am going to say is that there's Loneliness, and then there is Festering Loneliness.

Everyone, at some point in their life, will experience Loneliness. You can be in a relationship, you could be in the middle of a huge crowd of people, or you may actually be alone, but that sense of being bereft will enter in, and physical proximity to people will not cure it. It may last, it may flit by...some personalities, I think, are more prone to loneliness, perhaps because they are deeply aware of their own individuality and the difficulty there is in truly connecting to another person.

But most people will move on, find that friend or lover, sometimes even a piece of art that lets them know they are not alone, they are not adrift, there is an anchor.

However, some people experience Festering Loneliness. They never seem to make that connection, they never grab on to the lifeline that pulls them ashore. They stay adrift, not seeing any way out. And it gnaws. It eats away at their soul, till at some point they lash out, in pain and fear and rage and desperation.

They don't all lash out with weapons, though those are the ones that make the news. I think it is like the experiments done with animals...you cannot keep them out of their natural conditions for too long without them displaying signs of mental disorders...neuroses, psychosis, rage...

And the natural conditions for humans is to be in relation to other humans. Festering Loneliness is a Catch-22...you are lonely and feel isolated, you brood on it and dwell on it, then you become a brooding person and people tend to shy away from you, which isolates you more...and so on.

I'm not sure what the answer is. We cannot force people to associate with those who are harboring a Festering Loneliness. Counseling would probably help, but to receive help you have to admit you need it, and most brooders have determined that they are not at fault for their status, it's all those people who are to blame.

And that, really, is my point. Whenever any of us starts to become aware that we are setting ourselves into a position of "me against the world", we need to pull ourselves up short and realize that we ourselves are the only common denominator in this equation. We are the only person we have control of, anyhow, so that's the best (and only) place to get to work.

Remembrance of eyes past

I spent yesterday with some extended family...aunts, uncles and cousins from my dad's side of the family. I haven't seen them in about 5 years. They live about 165 miles away...not an impossible distance, but not exactly convenient for quick visits.

My mom's side of the family mostly live within 50 miles of each other, so get togethers are more often. And most of dad's family stayed close to each other, except for my dad, who made the trip south and set up his life in OC. So our visits with them were not as frequent.

It's been over 17 years since my dad passed away, long enough for me to forget many things about him. One thing that this trip forcefully reminded me of was his eyes. As I stood talking to his next-younger brother, it was all I could do not to cry; he has exactly the same shade and shape of eyes as my dad. Different voice, different height and appearance, but the same brilliant blue eyes.

My uncle is normally a quiet man, one who sits and listens more than speaks. But yesterday we stood and chatted, and I found myself staring, like I was going back in time and looking right at Dad. Granted, all his siblings have lovely blue eyes, but my uncle had the exact same shape and skin coloring too, so it showed up the family resemblance even more.

It makes me sad to think how long it's been since I saw those bright blue eyes crinkle in merriment at his latest joke, or watching his grandkids play. So many things leave us in this life...it was nice to have the reminder, even though it hurt.

Price of Admission

(The linked video has profanity and is probably NSFW.)

I've been thinking about bitterness. I spent a lot of my early life fearing men and relationships, largely in part to the bitterness I sensed from my mom. Her marriage was not a happy one, and in the years of stewing over her feelings of resentment and hurt, she grew bitter.

That wouldn't be so bad, I suppose...she did have reason to be hurt, after all, since she did not receive the love and attention she desired or deserved. However, it didn't affect her alone...she had four children, all of whom saw and felt her anger and the blanket resentments she held toward men as a response to the unpleasantness in her marriage. So four people were then unleashed on the world to deal as best as they could with their relationships.

One sibling is in a long-term marriage, which seems successful from the outside, but underneath the facade has issues that are likely to remain unresolved, as both partners fail to deal honestly with one another (for varying reasons).

Another resolved not to stay in an unhappy relationship like our mother did, and hence is on marriage #4. This one seems likely to last, as both are older and wiser, and more willing to make allowances for each other.

The last has one past divorce, though is now in a stable relationship that has all the appearances of long-term success...honesty, compatibility, humor, kindness and companionship.

That leaves me. I was married for 6 years, though I am now divorced. I don't consider the marriage a "failure", even though it ended, because I learned how to resolve my bitterness during that time. Many of the issues that I had held against my father were present in my husband. The years that I spent reconciling those difficulties with my partner also helped me resolve the issues with my dad, who had passed away many years prior.

I am now in a stable relationship of 2+ years with a kind man who does not embody the same issues. I have also matured and learned much in the intervening years. That doesn't mean it's a perfect relationship, but it has strength that will help it to endure.

I have to agree with Dan Savage..."there is no settling down without some settling for." As I have realized that I am not an ideal mate, I have released myself from the expectation that my partner must be ideal. It has made for a much happier and more realistic relationship. There is no perfect partner, there is no "The One" out there...but we can become "The One" for someone, as he/she works to become our "The One", out of love, respect and commitment.

The Man

So one of my last posts was about the new guy in my life. It's been about a year now, so it's not quite so new anymore.

The gooey, gushy rush of new love has passed. The bloom may not be entirely off the rose, but the petals have been wilting in the heat.

Don't get me wrong--I'm still in love. He's kind, funny, considerate, gentle--many great qualities that will stand us in good stead in the years to come. We are compatible in many ways, and I enjoy his company.

But there are no illusions. I know what he's like when he's angry, cranky, tired, sick--I know his bowel habits and his health issues, his body hair and his Achilles heel. Yet....

If you asked me to go back to the start, I wouldn't. I cherish the time when the facade drops and the real person emerges. The fragility, vulnerability, honesty....trusting another human with who you truly are. Knowing that they can take it, that they aren't afraid or disgusted.

The beauty of The Man is that he has allowed me to drop my facade as well. I am known, and loved, warts and all. The roses may be wilted, but this is the bouquet I'll hold on to.

Love Language

My sister had a birthday a while ago, and she was disappointed in the gift she got from her husband. She felt it was a little cold and impersonal, and that from her intimate partner (to whom she has been married quite some time) she should receive something more thoughtful.

Note that thoughtful does not mean more expensive in dollars, but it does mean more creative, or that it took more thought and planning.

We had a long talk about it. This has been the norm for many years--he's a good guy and treats her well, but he misses the point on her big occasions. He doesn't "get" that her love language is gifts.

I'm a big proponent of Love Languages. I read a book by Gary Chapman titled "The Five Love Languages," and ever since then I've applied the knowledge with my friends and family. He states that we each speak a particular "language of love" as our primary language. Since it is our "native tongue," it is how we speak love to the other people in our lives.

But what if their language is different? They won't understand what you are saying to them. Just like if I told you in German that it's time to walk the dog, if you only speak Spanish, Fido is going to get no exercise.

So the languages are Gifts, Physical Touch, Quality Time, Words of Admiration, and Acts of Service. Once I started to grasp this concept, it became fairly easy for me to see where my primary language was, and how I had always tried to communicate to my loved ones that way. It became equally clear that they didn't share my primary language, and instead had been speaking to me in their primary language!

It has changed my relationships for the better to realize what makes each person tick--they recognize that I am communicating love to them when I make an effort to speak their language. I have also shared this information with many people, and they have recognized their own language fairly easily. Whether they put that knowledge to good use is up to them.

So what's your language? Do you feel like your partner speaks it to you? If not, figure out what he/she is always asking you for, and you have a good clue as to what their language is. Speak it to them, and you will fill their tank and let them know how loved they are by you. Show them what your language is, and see if they find ways to "translate" their love for you.

Time Flies

Well, folks, I didn't realize just how long I had been gone. Apparently what they say is true: time does fly when you're having fun.

And such fun I've had! Nothing major or unusual--no vacations, or trips, or concerts (yet), but even the day-to-day stuff of living is better when you have someone special to share it with.

Who'd have thought? Just 2 months ago I was ready to throw in the towel--give up, take a break, go on sabbatical from "the dating life." Then I met him, and my world turned upside-down.

Yeah, I know, I know: "You're just in the early stages of love, everything's rosy for now...." Don't you love cynics? I realize that I'm a bit ga-ga over him right now, but my eyes are open--I do see the areas that have the potential to be pitfalls in the future. But for now, jaded realist though I am, I've chosen to enjoy the beauty of fresh love, new romance, endless possibilities.

I hope all is well in your life, my friends.

Big News

Two big things happening right now in my world.

First, I am now officially a Big Sister. To clarify, I have been a "big sister" to my younger brother for 37 years. But as of today, I have been assigned a Little Sister via the Big Brothers/Big Sisters organization. She is 10 years old, and very excited about our new friendship. We're having our first outing together on Thursday. I'm very happy to be supporting this wonderful organization, and I'm looking forward to building a friendship with this young girl.

Second, things are moving forward with my boyfriend. He is so delightful! I speak to him every day, we get together 2 or 3 times a week, he's met my family, and I'm going to meet his. He bought me a lovely gift for my birthday last week, and I get so giggly and happy when I think about him that I feel like a teenager.

Life is good!

The New Journey

Unsure of my steps
I follow your lead
Not knowing what lies ahead
On the path we tread together

I keep pace with you
To stay within reach
Your light illuminating our way

I will trust you
Relax into your rhythm
Your easy stride tells me you are sure,
You are confident
In where we are headed

I sigh in relief
Accepting that the journey
Will be as much the point
As the destination

© 2007 pac611

The Amazing Date

I met someone from Match last week for coffee. It was a last-minute thing--I had resubscribed for a one-month period because someone interesting had e-mailed me earlier in the month. That had fallen through, and I hadn't had any other contacts worth noting, so I was going to cancel my subscription before they charged me for a second month. The day that I was planning to cancel, I got an e-mail from this guy.

Deciding to take a chance, I sent him my phone number and explained that I was cancelling my subscription, but he could call if he was interested. The next day he called, and that night we met for coffee. Things seemed to go well, so we planned a date for the following Friday night.

That was last night. What an AMAZING time we had! I have been dating online for a couple of years now, but this is the first guy that I've felt an immediate "click" with. He is funny and smart and has a sweet smile. He did his undergrad work as a music major (same as me), so we have a lot in common there. He keeps saying, "Wow! Someone I can take to an opera!"

We went to dinner and had a lovely time. While trying to talk afterwards, the waitstaff was cleaning up around us, so we decided to head out to a bar instead. Funny, since neither of us drinks. :)

We went to Downtown Disney and found an outdoor bar where we could sit and chat and spend more time getting to know each other. I was so excited to come across someone that "got" me and my sense of humor, and I felt like he was really excited too.

Afterwards, we went for a stroll around the grounds. There's a spot with a koi pond and a waterfall, but it was closed up for the night. We could see it down below us as we stood chatting. To my delight, he kissed me there, under the moonlight, with the sound of the waterfall behind us. We held hands as we walked back to his car.

It's hard not to get your hopes up--I have had other promising dates that have led nowhere. But here's to hoping that this sweet guy sticks around for a while and the Amazing Date turns into something special.

Final Final

I took my last final exam of the semester today. I am officially out of school for the summer.

I was thinking that I would probably get a B in the class. I've had A's on all my work, but I know for a fact that I missed 5 days of classes. Yeah, I know, I know--it was unavoidable, I assure you. The first time, I did not call the teacher and let him know before class began, but for each subsequent absence, I phoned his office before class and left a message, stating that I would be absent. I figured that covered 2 excused absences, leaving me with three, which would deduct points from my total.

Before we began, the teacher made some announcements, handed back errant papers that had never been collected, then he had a few people stand while he announced that they had only been absent twice all semester. We gave them a round of applause.

Then he called one girl's name to have her stand, and he announced she had missed 1 1/2 days (she had left early one day.) Again with the applause.

Then he called my name! Me, and a few people after me. He announced that, according to his records, we had only missed 1 day. HHHHUUUUHHH????? The guy that I sat next to all semester looked at me like "Yeah, right!" I leaned over and said it must have been because I always called. Shortly after the folks with perfect attendance got their round of applause, the teacher confirmed my guess, stating that he knows life sometimes gets in the way and that when people made the effort to let him know in advance, he didn't count it against them.

So I may get an A after all. Still, I could be on the bubble because of the final. It consisted of two parts--a take home analytical essay that he gave us last week, and an in-class objective exam that we took today. I know I nailed my essay. I'm good at that stuff. You may not be able to tell it from my rambling here, but I actually write well. Everything that I wrote for this class all semester got A's with glowing commentary, so I feel very confident with that half of the final.

However, the objective exam was a different matter. It spanned 3 texts and all of our in-class notes. He allowed us to have all of our materials with us, but even then I could not find answers to some of the questions he asked. There were 30 questions, and there were 5 about which I had NO idea. I put answers in for four of them (3 were multiple choice, the other two were fill-in-the-blank.) I wrote an answer on one fill-in-the-blank question, but the final one asked the translation for a certain phrase, and for the life of me I could not remember ever hearing that phrase. I knew which text it was being drawn from, and after completing the rest of the exam (which was quite easy), I spent an extra 25 minutes thumbing through the text, hoping to God that the answer would pop out.

It didn't. I spent 10 more minutes checking the other texts, though I knew that was futile. So I had to leave it blank. That always saddens me. If I could have even come up with a reasonable guess, I would have felt better, but I was at a total loss.

So now I'm done. It's just a matter of waiting till the grade posts to know what my status is. Next step is to start saving money for next semester, though technically I need to find a job and EARN money before I can save money....

Blech

I haven't felt much like blogging for a while. I got laid off from my job last Wednesday. I didn't see it coming, and they gave me no notice. "Corporate downsizing." Lovely.

In honesty, I needed to move on--it was a part-time job, which was great for my school schedule, but not for my wallet. So I'm on the job hunt again. I'm looking for full-time with benefits at this point, and school will be my secondary consideration.

On a positive note, I have started cycling, so I am sticking with my plan to get fit, despite being kind of depressed. It's probably helping to distract me, since I'm putting a lot of thought and planning into my excursions.

I did have one other really cool thing happen--on Sunday, I went with my brother down to La Jolla, and met one of my all-time favorite cartoonists: Berkeley Breathed, the creater of Bloom County and Opus. He was very cool, and he did a quick sketch of Opus in my scrapbook.

So even on the blah-est days, there can be good things happening.

Read the book

A friend has a blog elsewhere, and he had made a comment about a particular TV show becoming banal over the years. Someone piped up with the comment "Read a book!"

He politely declined, indicating that not everything being broadcast is junk, just as not everything being published is gold.

This interested me for several reasons. First, being out in the dating world you tend to find a really strong dichotomy--people who watch NO television and look down on those who do vs. people whose entire cultural relevance is centered around what they've watched on the tube. There are other similar dichotomies--art lovers vs. sports fanatics, "cinema" enthusiasts vs. the-guy-who'll-watch-any-movie-playing, outdoorsy types vs. cloistered types. It's like gray doesn't exist anymore--it's either/or, baby, so get used to it.

Also, I am a bookworm. I love a book, magazine, blog--something that engages me with the written word. But there are some amazing TV shows and movies, and I would never tell someone to chuck one for the other.

I guess what bothers me is that while it's fine to have preferences, what makes us think it's fine to judge others for their preferences? The condescending tone ("Oh, I don't own a TV!") gets to me after a while. Granted, as a nation, we're a bit too lethargic in general, but this particular friend is quite active and doesn't waste every spare moment being passively entertained.

So does the fact that I don't like the snobbish attitude make me an anti-snob snob?

Movie Night

As much as I enjoy movies, I rarely ever go. A friend convinced me to get a NetFlix account, but even with that I hardly ever watch movies.

My brother frequently passes off DVDs to me to watch, assuming that because I have more free time, I'll get to them before he does. It seems to make sense, though I haven't really lived up to his expectation.

He grew frustrated with this, and wasn't going to give me a new DVD he had bought, saying "You won't watch it anyhow." I assured him that I would, and I sat down that night to watch it.

I've watched 3 movies in the past week--Rocky Balboa, The Science of Sleep, and An Inconvenient Truth. From my brother, I still have about 7 or 8 DVDs, and I have 3 from NetFlix.

I don't want to sit on my butt for that many hours at a stretch. I'm already too sedentary, and having hands that are free while watching movies tends to make me snacky. I'm warding that off by doing some simple scrapbooking while I watch, but it's still not a lifestyle I want to adopt. I'm trying to become more active, improve my health, not become even more motionless.

But it's hard to resist the appeal of a good movie. I don't regret the time I've spent on what I've watched, I just need to balance it with some activity. My latent laziness is fed by opportunities like this.

Beautiful Music

As it says in my "about me" section, I am single and looking. The main form that my looking takes is via online dating. I've been at it for about 18 months, and while I've not had amazing success, I've had better luck there than meeting men in the 'real world'.

So this week I came across a profile that I hadn't seen before. Well, that's not quite right--I had seen his blog quite a while before, but for some reason had never looked at his full dating profile. But this time I did.

He appears to be quite a delightful man! Nice pictures, articulate text, and he's a musician, as am I. So I sent an e-mail earlier this week, and he kindly responded, with some rather encouraging words, leading me to believe that we might hit it off.

Ball's in my court, so I send off a thoughtful yet amusing response. And....nothing. Three days, and nothing. I can see that he's been online, so it's not that he hasn't had an opportunity to read it.

I was torn. This particular dating site is rather notorious for "eating" messages--entire e-mails will simply never be delivered, and you're never told. So I've hemmed and hawed, and finally decided I couldn't handle it. I sent a follow-up e-mail earlier this evening.

No response so far, so I don't know if he's going to think I'm some cyber-stalker (I'm not), or pathetic (I guess I could be), or if he'll be flattered that I was interested enough to follow up (I am!)

This is the part I hate--waiting, not knowing, wondering what the other person thinks. I'm not a good person for "possibilities"--I like actualities much better. Let me settle into what I know, don't make me deal with a hundred "what if's".

But there's nothing more to do--if he does not respond again, I will not chase him down. I will take it as a lack of interest, and move along. Disappointing, because I think we could have made beautiful music together.

Swept aside

The office was hot and stuffy, a sweltering sweatbox 3 months before schedule. The early evening light was muted as I pushed open the doors as I headed home.

An immediate change in atmosphere made me catch my breath. I had watched the breeze blowing all day, but had not felt it. Now, freed from the confines of work and duty, I felt drawn out, beckoned by a cool hand caressing my skin.

I took my time as I headed to my car. I rarely take time to enjoy a breeze, but this was more than just a simple whisper of air--these are Santa Ana winds, blowing strong and sure and not caring who is in their path. Though they are warm winds, they felt cool to my overheated skin.

I stood in the wind's embrace, feeling as though I was in a stream. My shadow stretched out long and low before me, casting me as a latter-day Medusa.

Bathed in the winds, held, caressed and moved by its power.

Warm my globe

I'm not much of an activist. It's not because I don't believe in causes, but because I don't believe in people. I'm a person, so you'd think I'd be more understanding and sympathetic. But basically, I think that people don't want to be inconvenienced, and so they ignore any message that would require them to make changes.

So I don't hold out a whole lot of hope for the USA's response to imminent climate change. Even in a culture that is so obsessed with our kids (our schedules revolve entirely around our kids, much different than it was even in my parents' generation) we cannot be made to care about the future of the earth they will inherit from us.

But I want to do my part. I drive a very small car that gets good gas mileage. But I feel that even that is not enough, so I have started cycling. I'm not good enough yet to use it as my main form of transportation, but that is my goal.

My family thinks I'm more than a little nuts. They don't think I'll stick to it. I know that it's going to be tough. Southern California is definitely a car culture, and there are long distances to travel. But the benefits so far outweigh the costs that I really can't continue to ignore the obvious any longer.

I hope our self-indulgent culture wakes up soon and realizes that we are on the brink of catastrophe. There is no Imminent Domain, no God-given right to consume and own and take and use and cast away. The world sees us as greedy and arrogant, and they have a valid point.

I am just one small voice, but I will continue to speak truth wherever and whenever I can. As the old Bible school song goes, "This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine." I'm just going to use a renewable resource to fuel it. :)

Conversation in Reverse

I commute to school and to work 5 to 6 days a week. I'm usually alone in my car (yeah, I know--bad for the environment. I'll be making some changes soon.)

One of the things that I like to do is watch other people in their cars. Not while I'm driving, mind you, but at those points where we are stopped. Generally, I watch in my rear view mirror, since I can see faces that way.

Watching a conversation in reverse is a little odd--trying to figure out who started the discussion, what they are talking about, is it a good conversation, or are they arguing, are they related or just friends--all the little things that go into a tale are right there behind me.

I've been caught watching a few times--the driver or passenger will get a furrowed brow, then try to nonchalantly tell the other person that they are being watched. I don't count it as eavesdropping, since I can't hear what they're saying, and I can't read lips even when face-to-face, so in reverse would be hopeless. Yet I suppose that when we are in our cars, we enter our own private bubble, a mini-universe of our own, and knowing that someone else is watching you bursts that illusion.

I think my favorite part is the gesticulations--all the movements that we make as we communicate. I try to figure out what point they're emphasizing. Sometimes, I make up my own story to go along with their motions.

Man, I need a shorter commute!