GoGo on a Page

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Location: Midwest, United States

"Power lines, my travlin' partner on this ride. Dripping, pulling - up and down, in this sing song, their lullaby blends with the swaying train. I curl myself into this journey; folding myself up into this pocket of time. Old familiars greet me - that swing set in the back yard, the ruins of an old church covered in new birth and old - mixed with unremembered newness." Journal Entry, October 13, 2005~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~All words are copyrighted by GoGo on a Page/gogoroku.

Monday, June 26, 2006

If It Works on Time...

Hello Page,

I am going to be putting down this page for a moment. I have creative blog page writer's block. I have tons of wonderful, hard, tasky, too detailed oriented, and just plain silly and fun things happening in my life, but I can't type them out here. I can't get what I want to write about to connect with my fingers on the keyboard. It's quiet frustrating!

I am writing this to kind of give myself permission to put this page down for a minute. My goal is to simply not try for a week or two, then try again. I do this with clocks too. Sometimes, time feels like it goes faster then it should. I have a few days where I am late for everything. No matter what I do, I can't seem to keep up with the pace of time. So, I just remove all clocks from my life, except the cell phone. Seriously. I just turn the clocks in my spaces, so I can't look. I do this for a day. Then I feel like I have reset myself...figurtively. This process is all in my head, I know time isn't going faster or I need to be realigned. But it works for me. Hey look, I wrote about something interesting.

But, I'm still going to committ to putting this page down. I need to.

Please check back in soon. And as always, thanks for reading.


P.S. Krista, I did get the present. I love it. Ironically, I neither use it for my non-existent IPOD :O) or my cell phone. I keep my film in it when I go hiking, so I can reload the camera instead of bringing my bag! Its my mini-me film bag. And yes, your package is still in my living room, right next to the note that says, Don't forget to mail out! I will email you tomorrow when I get my laptop back!

Thursday, June 22, 2006

Want a good laugh today?

I quite enjoyed this! Thanks Bendingpeak for posting it.


Tuesday, June 20, 2006

Meme, Happy Birth Story!!

It’s now 26 days until my birthday. For me, this is a big day. I don’t know whether the world can chalk it up to narcissistic perspective, or because I am finally learning that life is as precious as our first breath. Socially, I doubt I should be so enamored with my own birth. Here I am, enamored. And I think you should be too… um, not with mine, but your own. No matter how many people share your birth date or how many lives you get to live, this path you are on now will never be lived again… Even if you live a thousand times as the person you are, you will never do it the same again. How precious then, is each moment, each life we live?

Of course, who am I to say this? Where is my justification? Sure my favorite poet is Rumi, but who am I to embrace such mystic love for living? Um, am I DSM-IV-TR diagnosable? Damn, this summer class!

Yet, here I am, telling anyone who reads…embrace your birthday. Love it, as though it is the essence of your self. In the community you share with others, build a foundation where your birth date is a celebration! Celebrate! Now, I have the fortitude of living in an individualistic society where the individual is celebrated. I also have friends who will embrace this celebration as much as I celebrate theirs. I believe though, that the community and the individual can live in continuity – the one forming to be self as well as participating with the whole. I rely on the idea that in our futures this balance will exist for all. So, as I try and build a better future for the community, I also take the time and expression to celebrate my birth and who I am as an individual. Yeah! So, as a celebration for this one path…this one moment this GoGo is and never will be again…I share with you my birth story…I hope the reader takes the time to think about his/her/his&her/her&his own story and share it too! So, Cheers to us and the singularity of one path that leads us to heaven/hell or more journeys to come, and (AS ALWAYS) effects the community as a whole!

The Birth Story:
We all have one, whether the story is the absence of the birth story or a full fledge rendition of the details of our birth. The absence has just as much effect on our psyches as does the full frontal details. How many of us know the minutes, hours, days it took for us to come into this world? How many of us wish we did? How many of us have heard the words, “I gave birth to you?” From the various friends around the world, I believe that statement may be universal, able to be translated into all languages, or in those subtle communal understandings never really spoke of, but are expected. Why? Because to date, we all come from our Mother’s womb. Absent, present, or somewhere in between, mothers are instrumental to our creation, our formation, and our births into this world. I heard it last week, when my Mom called to let me know how much she loved me. Her expression of love was justified from birth, "I love you because I gave birth to you". Now, that’s a powerful justification.

My birth story is as dramatic as my words betray me to be. From my Father’s mouth, my birth story goes like this – I was born a breech (that is, buttocks first), wanting the world to kiss my a$$. Yes, that’s right. From the minute I came into this world, the first thing seen was my aSS! For my Dad, it meant for the rest of my life I would be equated with Florence from the TV show Alice’s Restaurant, and when in doubt…the world could kiss my rosy pink cheeks. What power in that birth myth! I mean, baby got back, but she also gets the rest of the world kissing it!

From my Mum, it’s a little more detailed. First and foremost, I was always loved. Words told to me at my hardest points in life, when I never wanted to hear the words, and when I came out to my family. I was always loved. Thanks, Mom! It took 45 minutes for me to come out. Because the umbilical CORD was wrapped around my neck, possibly killing me or leaving me with brain damage, the Doctor was concerned and he did not want to try and turn me. AND because of my mother’s ability to POP out children, there wasn’t time to do a C-section. Now, after all this was said and done, there was also the fact that I was conceived on birth control! Yep, not only did I come out with the cord around my neck, possibly ending my life before it began, a$$ first in order for the world to apply their lips (which cheek depended on preference), but also I was a part of the .01% risk you take when shagging with the pill. Let this be a lesson, it can happen to you.

Oh, but it doesn’t stop there. I was also born 1 year and 5 months after my older brother was born. This means my Mum conceived me on the pill 9 months after giving birth to the older Bro. I don’t think anyone could blame her for having her tube’s tide the DAY AFTER I was born, which was also told with common occurrence as was the part where the world kisses my grits.

Oh, but it doesn’t stop here. Then there was the part about my paternal Gma (the one who was THE MATRIARCH OF THE FAMILY) who was angry with my Mother because she conceived me too soon after my brother. Apparently, this was a sore subject between the two that never got resolved when my gma died. If you’re wondering, yes, the little girl in me felt responsible to resolve this issue. But it doesn’t stop there. I was also 3-4 weeks early. My Mum was not only fertile, but I was hard pressed to be born.

To summarize, I was conceived on birth control; my older brother was 9 months old at conception; I came against my gma’s will a month early with the cord around my neck, and to add it all, I came out bottom first. [Insert the world and lips here.]

PRESSURE ON! As a kid, I didn’t know if I was a middle finger OR a pious destiny offered by God. Now, I like to think I am a mix of both...without the pious existence. My youthful interpretation was I had to prove I was supposed to be here against all the odds.

And here I am almost 30-turns-around the sun! This is my birth story. This myth has followed me around the sun and to the place I am at now. I have hated the birth story, loved the birth story, and wondered if I should share it at all. Here I am though, 26 days away from my birth date and I am grateful to be born…to have my own story, and to my parent’s who offered me my birth story that molded my path. What does that mean? It means, today, if you choose to read this page, you get to hear about my birth story….and…

what’s the word for it…a meme? If you read this, I tag you to tell the world…what is your birth story? Please tell it in celebration of your self! If you so choose without pressure or obligation.

Happy Birth Story!

The birth date is July 15th, smack dab in the middle of summer.

Monday, June 19, 2006

Play Therapy, Sexual Identity, Weeds, and a Guitar Plucked in 4/4 Time

Listening to the subtle taps on a drum, a guitar plucked in 4/4 time, and the voice telling me he “Had a dream of an orange sky”. Today is a beautiful day. The sweltering heat and humidity squelched by yesterday’s rains, we are left with a dry heat that feels mighty fine. It’s a good day for a bike ride.

I just submitted my paper for the summer class. One more project left, other then readings and weekly discussion submissions, is a final to do next week. If I am lucky, I will continue to do very well in this class. Then two more classes for the summer – two seminars that should be easier then an actual internet class. One of them is an introduction to Play Therapy where I get to play with toys and in a sand box – a two day seminar this weekend. The kid behind the adult in me is very excited to be getting some sand time! I am a little bummed because it is also Pride Weekend here, and I will miss out on two good friends annual Pride Breakfast for the seminar. The other class is 3 Thursdays – an informative seminar on Sexual Identity. Hmm. Not sure what to expect with this one, and am pretty sure there will be no sand boxes to play in.

I’ve been reading blogs this morning, just absorbing everyone’s energy in words. I notice my taste in this blogworld are for those who see themselves as writers, lovers of written words or the random artist who can paint a picture in photo, oils, photoshop, or water color. I collect these pages. I like this about myself. Of course, I have a sentimental heart and prefer those who can swim in their own consciousness…chalk it up to the Cancer in me. Um, that’s the zodiac sign, not..well…you know. I always hate those moments when people ask you your sign…I get to answer “I’m a Cancer, what about you?” There is usually a pause – like the person is trying to decide if a joke would be appropriate……its not. ;-). Um, off tangent.

I am glad for my own words. They disperse and dissipate the feelings that come with school. I appreciate school, but I won’t pretend it isn’t much work. Did I mention I’m not a fan of work? I spend most of my time, nose cornered in books or eyes adhered to the computer screen typing one project or another. All wonderful things, but the only thing I have ever been completely devoted to is writing my story. This page helps me to stay devoted to school too.

A bloggy friend emailed me and said that school seemed to be the priority on this page, and he is right, it is. Though I mix some daily events into the collection, school is the priority these days. I guess I want to thank those who have joined me on this journey, on this page. Your words encourage me and let me know I am a part of something greater – greater then a grade and projects done. This is a weird medium in which I am still learning its boundaries and topography, but I am glad it exists…glad we humans created this space. The fact that so many people trek this way, tells me we have been starving as a species for connection like this. It is not a pop cultural fad, but a key ingredient in all cultures – self-communication.

All right, off I go before I get any sappier. I have to clean my home. This week for my continued learning group I run at the Community Center, we are going Weed pick’en and then everyone is coming to my place to cook them up right. Yes, that’s right. I have a presenter who is going to teach us how to find and cook edible weeds – um, the legal kind. We are spending the morning down by the River Trail that cuts through the heart of this city, then (Swallow Hard) everyone is coming to my place. So, it looks like I need to pick up all my underroos and the piles of articles that line my study area. :O).


Saturday, June 17, 2006

Sunday Scribblings: Da Bed

Um, I don't have time to write another tribute to my bed, having already spent many a entry sending appreciation its way. I even bought myself two new sets of sheets this week for my bed, a work in progress of nurturing comfort. I love to spend time in bed when I first get up, if I can. Reading, drinking coffee, and just residing in its softness. Here are the top 3 picks devotional writings to my bed, I have done throughout school.

Why Can't I Title My Entries (I was a young blogger)

Does It Count if the Love of My Life is Square

I Get to Go to Bed Soon!

smiles ~GG

If you are interested in participating in Sunday Scribblings...please go here! Its fun.

Over Night - Free Thought

Mixing thoughts on another over night shift – listening to Solsbury Hill, my heart going boom, boom, boom. I want to grab my things, and have you take me home.

I was just outside, sitting in the dark night smelling the warm air, hearing the thick air displaced from cars driving in the distance. I was just sitting there, absorbing the summer night. The smell of plants having pushed up from the earth, now growing stronger and thicker in the perfumed dirt of summer’s rich soil breathes strength and energy in this night. I was taken back to moments sharing night time swims with friends, letting the water lap around our bodies, and that smell of wet bodies in wet clothes that is so unique to summer nights permeated my mind. I am so grateful I appreciated those moments as much in the moment as I do now.

The job is the same as it was last weekend, 40 hours in 4 days, money in the pocket, and sleep an exercise of athletic sprints between the hours working. I am very glad I have trained my body to sleep at odd times and in between times to keep my energy up, though am sad all at the same time. My internal clock just wants my days to be consistent, waking and setting with the sun - not against it on the weekends and with it all other times of the week. My resistance is the same its been from the beginning of school, stemming from the internal child who never liked to be tired. Of course, if I didn’t say these words, didn’t put them out there, how could I release them and do what I need to do to get through school, work, and all the tasky that goes hand in hand with Grad school? Life has never been so easy, but I am living in the cusp of change. Soon doing what I need to do to get where I am going will change to things I am doing to grow me right where I am. Sleep and time will balance out. and at the same time, I appreciate this moment for what it is - I am a student on more then one level, learning as I go along. It really has never been so easy as it is right now.

My coworker and I are working, silent partners to things to do, we stop and share moments in lulls of an over night. The music on the radio is excellent tonight.

Today I don't need a replacement
I'll tell them what the smile on my face meant
My heart going boom-boom-boom
Hey, I said, you can keep my things
They've come to take me home


Friday, June 16, 2006

If You Sneeze & Hold It In, You Can Pop Your Brain

Yep, creative block these days. Back to grocery lists and crickets in the head. I guess I am just redirecting my energy to other things then this blog right now, like trying to figure out why clutter roams my home like wildebeests from watering hole to watering hole. I picked the wildebeests image because a friend back in the day pointed out that every animal documentary had a wildebeests in the background. You just couldn't get away from them in documentaries. Watch animal documentaries, you'll at least see a high proportion of wildebeests in them. I feel like I am chasing clutter around my house instead of getting rid of it once and for all. Its driving me crazy these days. I just don’t have enough storage space and closets.

I know, why am I writing about clutter? Is this really the most exciting thing I could share about my life? What about sharing some interesting tid bit about some front page news....but how many times can people read that our Government is ran by [NSA edit]! How about pop culture? Yeah, thanks to some wonderful friends, I have an antenna for the TV now, which means I have 5 instead of 3 channels. My pop culture consists of Roseanne reruns and Ellen. So, how about some deep insights? Hmm. Got nothing. I share when I learn, so its hit or miss depending on the learning curve. Oh, oh! I did learn from a 5-year-old this week that if you sneeze and hold it in, you can pop your brain...she wondered if this was a oversight on G-ds part. It was an interesting conversation to say the least. Kids amaze me.

It looks like its clutter. Below are some interesting blog finds I found this week that might provide something more then cluttered commentary on a page. This IS good writing!

Changing Plans and Letting Go

Any Closer Than This

A Different Point of View

I Found This Poem on a Train

Thursday, June 15, 2006

Thank you, M.

Apparently somewhere on the outskirts of Portland there is a tree. Yes, there are many trees in Portland I am sure. I’ve never been there, but that’s the impression I am getting from friends who live out there. This tree is different then the other trees around it. This tree has hundreds of pairs of shoes dangling from its branches just blowing in the wind. Why is this, you might ask, and why am I telling this page? Well, the answer to the first question is, I don’t know. Why shoes dangle from one particular tree in Portland was lost in the oration between a friend of mine and a friend of his, though he did offer that for those who do know about the tree they are usually inspired to leave some shoes dangling with the rest. As for the second question, I am telling this page because I absolutely love the idea…as long as it is not harmful to the tree.

I was sitting with a coworker of mine who is moving to San Fran discussing life like we usually do – with a dash of existential contemplation and a side of music conversation. You can probably see why he is moving to San Fran. Anyway, I appreciated the idea that somewhere in Portland there is a tree and on that tree are shoes dangling. No one knows why, but if you want to leave a pair you can.

I can just imagine a pair of mine one day clinking with my coworkers, long since removed from each others lives other then memories remembered. The chances of either of us seeing each other again are irrelevant to our experiences. But I do like to imagine pair of my shoes clinking against his shoes long after our days shared is over.

Good luck in San Fran, M, and Thanks for the song.

Tuesday, June 13, 2006

Remember, Tuesday’s Soylent Green Day!

I have lived in my apartment for over two years now. One would think at this point I would remember that Tuesday is garbage day and that means the garbage needs to be out by 7am. Nope. I woke up this morning to the beep, beep, beep of the garbage truck while mine was safely inside my home. I woke up knowing from past experience that at this point I wouldn’t make it outside on time. I told myself, “What does it take for me to remember TUESDAY = Garbage Day?”

To be fair to myself, there is a slim window to take out the garbage. This is squirrel turf around here. Take the garbage out too early and you got a bag with its entrails hanging out before the garbage employee even makes the rounds. Not to mention you get a very upset garbage person. I have been privy to conversations, having had a number of experiences where I grab the garbage and run out just in time to hand it over. Understandably, the garbage employees are not too happy with disemboweled bags in our neighborhood.

The other end of this dilemma is I do have from 6pm on Monday until 7am Tuesday to get the garbage out and for some reason it is at this time that my mind goes into amnesiac response. Not a whiff of memory on my end, excuse the pun.

I’m garbage challenged folks. I just made a sign in the blue/green color of the city bags that says “Tuesday is Garbage Day!” I have put it right next to my door and am making another for above the garbage.

Monday, June 12, 2006

My Brain Got a Paper Cut

I’m sitting at the library. I just spent 3 hours researching Gender Identity Disorder(GID) for my summer class. I have this Diagnostic and Statistical Manual for Mental Health (DSM-IV) class this summer. I am not a fan of the DSM-IV, but understand that to advocate for clients, I need to know the Mental Health and Managed Care version of the bible. Our final project is an Assessment Paper on one of the disorders. My partner and I picked GID. I picked it because I want to know more about how the mental health field diagnosis and treats Transgender individuals, so I can do it differently! No, so I can advocate for clients who are treated as though they have a disorder. I’ve been hard pressed to find peer-reviewed research articles on the subject that does not look at co morbidity issues or has positive reflections on individuals who are transgender.

Just because a person doesn’t fit into this small color of human identity (Straight, same Gender identified) doesn’t mean they are sick or unhealthy. I just want to moon the world right now and say “You’re missing the spectrum, peeps.” But then, I’d loose the argument, the world too busy looking at my crack then the crack in its logic. Sometimes this field I am going into is so frustrating. But I continue forward, gaining both the information I need and resources to do my best as an advocate…including for individuals who are stuck in a crappy mental health system in general. Blah, Blah, Blah. My typing voice is starting to annoy me today. This research has been frustrating and I want to turn off the heady part of my brain. Though I will admit, I entertained myself with the moon imagery.

I think I am going to stop for now, collect my piles and go home. I want to ride my bike…I haven’t ridden for a few days and today is perfect weather to do so. It’s time to get on the bike and outrace my frustration. :O).

~Pissy Mood, GoGo

or as Snowsparkle might say, I got stuck in some Juniper today. :O).

Sunday, June 11, 2006

Building a Mystery

Back at work tonight. I’ve been picking up extra shifts to collect time for future time off, and so for the fall I can work less during school. I enjoy working here. I know I have said this before, but my coworkers are good people. Its been nice to get some day and evening time in here. I get to work more directly with the clients and coworkers. We all kind of balance each others strengths, doing our part to keep the unit flowing and offering resources. We just work together to make things happen. Its nice like that.

My weekend overall has been pretty low-key. Sleeping between shifts, I got in 40 hours of work. I have plans later in the month and for my birthday next month, so I am trying to get in the long hours now. This week is going to be busy too, having a paper to research and write on Monday for class. I need to settle my August schedule for my continued education group I run at the Community Center and I have to get in my paperwork for the internship in the fall.

I have decided to take time off from July until school starts back in the fall. I’m a worker. Taught by my family, I fill my time with work, volunteer activities and microbursts of political activism. If this is one of my last summers here, I want to take time to be here. I want to spend time with friends while they are still here – many leaving this summer for destinations onward. I want to spend time building my shell (a movable home of resources), so when its my time to head out I can carry my home with me. I have also come to a place where I appreciate my home I have built here and I want to continue to appreciate this nest before I head out to my destination onward. I’m still working, I am just letting go of many extracurricular activities.

I’ve read so many peoples mysteries wondering what their meaning in life is, what is going to happen, who are they, and where do our toes go when we sleep :O). I have so many of the same questions, but am coming to a place in my life where I can expect I neither have all the answers or all the control. Yeah, this was a hard lesson for me. This does not mean I am an amoeba stuck in the current of life without ores or direction. It just means that as I ride this current, I know the best thing I can do for myself is A) check out my surroundings and use the resources I have, B) Let go of things that don’t work or hold me under the current too long, C) appreciate those who spend time with me on this journey as it unfolds and D) know this river was carved out from the rock long before I was born. I am a person who has come to appreciate that maneuvering through life is not difficult, if we know ourselves as the best companion in it.

And my final words for the night is I have had Sarah McLachlan’s song, Building a Mystery in my head all evening. :O).

Sunday Scribblings: Mystery

Once again I am sitting at my computer wondering how to write the thoughts in my head. The veil between my public and private life becomes thick these days and I want to wrap myself tightly in it and reveal nothing! Why? Because I feel absolutely vulnerable these days to review and though on this page I can pull insight and wisdom out of my a$$ like fresh smelling roses, in my reality I don’t feel so wise or so insightful. Chuckle. Of course, in real life I don’t pretend to be anything other then who I am either. Just me stuck with me, doing my thing, and most of the time I’m making it up as I go along. I am at a moment in life when I wish I had a guru, a spiritual guide, a true marker that everything IS happening as it should.

Tehe. My coworker just told me it’s a full moon tonight as I wrote my last line. Coincidence, Serendipity, or just plan irony? Hmm.

Anyway, my mystery for you tonight hides between the veil of the personal realm and public sphere and as in all things true to my form, comes in a form of a ramble. What is my big mystery?

I wonder if the new Big Brother Show is going to be a good one?

I mean, I could wonder how the U.S. and the American Citizens are going to pull their a$$ out of the gutter of war. I could wonder whether we will ever move to world peace or simply be concurred by consumerism, CEOs and investors becoming the royal families for a new surfdom. I could wonder whether there is a God, what is the meaning of life, or why the hell society keeps making really stupid decisions as a collective when the saying goes "two heads are better then one"? (That made me laugh). I could ask any question, explore any mystery, but if I could have one mystery solved it would be - I wonder who will be voted in as the new Big Brother house guests?

Why? Because I’m going to get an answer, its going to happen soon, and it will be definitive.

Just something to chew on. ;). ~GG


Saturday, June 10, 2006

Tilda Swinton Rocks my World

I was going to post some critiques about three movies I watched this week – TransAmerica, Narnia, and The Squid and the Whale. As I sit here, I realize my brain is too low functioning after a long over night to do this. Plus I have to work until 4pm today, so I’m not too motivated to critique anything except maybe the softness of my bed when I get home. I would recommend seeing TransAmerica. I think all my readers should try and watch at least one LGBT (Lesbian/Gay/Bisexual/Transgender) movie a year. Why not. I watch straight people on the screen. I watched Narnia for Tilda Swinton. I adore her. She just catches my eye and I can’t look away. As for the movie...I’m sticking to my rationale for watching it.

I watched Al Gore on Jay Leno this week. Who knew he was funny. I did question his choice in boots though.

Lets see, what else. I want to go and see that new Meryl Streep and Lily Tomlin film. Just last year I was thinking to myself it would be great if those two did a movie together, then BAM...we got a movie. Again, the brain cannot think of what the name is at this hour, and I don’t want to google it right now. I will leave it as I am very excited to see the movie...whatever its called.

Yeah, there’s my deep insight for the world. I guess I’ll go back to work.

P.S. I know I just googled Tilda photos and not the name of the movie. I'm tired, but not too tired for Tilda!

Thursday, June 08, 2006

I Washed My Hands Before I Typed This

~Written 6/7/06, but Blogger is having a hard time these days. GG~

I have been having a busy week. School, physician appointments, and now I am at my volunteer/paid/old internship at the Community Center right now. I love many things about this place: the people, what we do, the atmosphere, and the fact that someone always makes it a point to put a quote up in the bathroom on a routine basis for those who occupy the space. I am not sure who posted the below one, but I thought I would share. It seems an appropriate lesson for life. When I squatted on the commode (yes, I did say that), my first reaction was “oh, look something to read while I pee.” As I read it, I was reminded that there is something greater then ourselves that speak to us through our daily lives. Though it can be hard to trust, if we let ourselves listen, our journey can be made easier. I put it out here in the world in case someone else needs some material to read while using the loo. :O).

“When life is ‘enough,’ we don’t need any more. What a good feeling it is when our days are enough. The world is enough. We don’t often let that feeling in. It’s a foreign feeling because we tend to live our lives feeling that they are not enough. But we can change that perception. Saying that this is life and I don’t need anything more is a wonderful statement of grace and power. If we don’t need any more, if we don’t need to control everything, we can let life unfold.

We have so much power inside but so little knowledge of how to use it. Real power comes from knowing who we are and our place in the world. When we feel we must accumulate, we have truly forgotten all that we are. We must remember that our power comes from knowing that everything is all right and everyone is unfolding exactly as they are supposed to.”

~Elisabeth Kubler-Ross from Life Lessons~

P.S. I am not enlightened, just happening to be peeing, and found a little truth in the day.

Sunday, June 04, 2006

Sunday Scribblings: Earliest Memory Free Thought

I have been standing at this threshold of what to write since I first read our topic of this weeks Sunday Scribblings. I have a thousand memories swirling in my head. They are complete, partial, snap shots of a moment, silent films, audio snippets, and layered stories born from the mythos of family oration and childhood’s influence, yet at this moment not one inspires me to share.

The earliest memory, the one furthest down the trail of this life I have led escapes me, though I know tomorrow it will suddenly pop back into brain like it was always there living on the tip of my tongue. The earliest days of my life are sacred moments of a child new in the world and its understandings, and I find the adult me protective to even delve into them. I will say, that from the earliest moments onward, beams of light walking the floor of my house has always kept me company in my memories. The yard, the trees, and flowers are first reflections of who I am – I was born in summer and summer holds my strongest memories. Arms wrapped around me, siblings to share the interpretations of the world, and love both distant and close are there mixed in with the images in my head. Some places hold sadness, confusion, and the beginning of the misunderstanding between me and God these days. Some places hold the triumph and determination to be who I am now.

Then it happens, as I write a ramble of this topic, a earliest pops in the head to share:
My earliest memory of the moon and her comfort came when I was in the back seat of my Mother’s brown station wagon. She use to say that she’d never wash that car because it was the dirt that held it together. I remember the warm heat from the heater mixing in with the cold air from the cracked window as she and I drove in blackened night to go to the Emergency Room. I was born an asthmatic, born sick, and as the doctors told my Mother born to die young. Of course, years later, I could insert medical technology, medical myths dispelled, and self-conviction as the rationale for this not to be true. At the time though, I was going to the hospital because I was having a severe asthma attack.

I can’t say how young I was, age lost in the distance between then and now, I can say that I was scared and increasing my troubles with the panic of not being able to breathe. I remember the routine of those days. I would wake up choking on my limited breathes, struggling to grasp good clean air. My parents would immediately go into action - Dad would hold me and tell me it would be okay while my Mother started the shower. She would then take me from him and we would sit Mother and Child on the commode seat like a modern day Mary and child Jesus, except neither of us had any intention of saving the world, just hold on to each other until the crisis passed. The bathroom would fill with thick clouds of steam as my clammy skin beaded with the blanket of water vapor crowding me. My Mother would hum or sing or simply tell me that I would be okay.

When the shower did not work, our first line of defense, we would go to the hospital. I would add in here that this was after taking horrible medications that still poisons my memory with guttural gags of disgust. If the asthma attacks weren’t as bad as they were, I would have refused Aqubran (sp?) from the sheer pain of taking it. This routine happened every month and most times the shower worked. Usually once a month I made it to the hospital for a breathing treatment. I knew all the ER nurses and can remember how nice and attentive they were to me and my Mother. Nurses rock!

This one memory, the one that has taken me this long to tell you was the first time I remember the moon and the last time I went to the ER for treatment. The routine as described - the shower, the medications and all my Mother’s love was not stopping the attack. So, we went into the dirt-wired car and out into the night. I remember sitting in the back by myself because it felt good to lean against the window and look out back there. I remember my Mother driving down Thirteenth Street left on Silverbrooke toward the hospital as I watched the street lights go by, a beam of light radiated from them touching the car in pinwheel fashion as though to push us forward. As I looked out of the car, scared, tired, and wanting comfort greater then this routine the moon suddenly peaked out from behind a cloud.

She was this huge soft yellow circle that took presence over the night. She broke the darkness and filled the whole world with light, but not too bright like the sun and I could look directly at her. She was beautiful and for some reason she held for me a magic I have carried with me throughout my life. When I saw her that night, it was like seeing God’s Mother peak from behind the clouds just for me, just to shed some light my way.

While the clouds were moving and we were moving, the moon stood still in my world and held me. I watched as clouds passed over her and she shined through. This totally blew my mine! My suffocating existence was forgotten along with the exhaustion and fear, and all I could think of was watching her. And then, it happened my breathing got better. My asthma attack had stopped. By the time we got to the hospital, my Mother (also a nurse) came to the backseat of the car, check my breathing with her stethoscope and hugged me while telling me that it looks like we can go home. I asked my Mother if the moon was God’s Mother, but I don’t remember her response. I do remember the routine changed from that day forward, still having to go out into the night toward the hospital I never made it to the hospital again.

When I feel stressed, scared or confused I always take comfort in the Moon harbored in the night, watching over me.

Wow! Sorry for the long post. This felt good to write.

Laini and Megg, I have to say you two rock! I am really enjoying this experience for myself.


Saturday, June 03, 2006

Being Natural

Living a calm life, taking care of my house, my school work, and self. I finished my quiz this afternoon then studied the case studies assigned for class with a friend. Afterwards, I went home to sleep before I came into work tonight, but found I wasn’t ready to sleep. I popped in a CD and cleaned my sunroom windows instead, finally washing away the built up residue from winter. It felt like I was presenting a better face to my home, clean windows bring in better light.

I caught myself singing to the music outside while cleaning the screen door windows, well actually I caught a neighbor catching me sing. She smiled, I smiled and I continued to sing. A few moments later she came over and we talked about housecleaning, the album I was listening to (a compilation made by a friend from A2), and we laughed about how it feels to be caught in the act of being natural. We agreed it was the best way to be in life.

I finished my work, took a shower after reaching my limit for layered living on the skin, and went to bed. I am now at work, my coworker and I talk in interspersed moments between task and quiet. I love working here. I like what I do and I like the people I work with. I still cannot wait for the day when I am no longer working over nights, I remind myself this is not forever. For now though, it offers me the things I need to complete school, and I truly enjoy working here. Work is a good place and a good space. Which is a good thing because I am working a double (16 hours) tonight. :O).

Friday, June 02, 2006

At This Moment

At this moment, I am listening to Nina Simone sing “Feeling Good”. There is an excellent version on the Six Feet Under Soundtrack. Yeah, I bought the soundtrack…I mean it had Nina Simone on it as well as Imogen Heap, Death Cab for Cutie and Radio Head. It just felt right to purchase.

At this moment, I am procrastinating from taking a quiz for my class by writing a blog entry.

At this moment, I feel pretty good from another bike ride. I’m living my life a sweaty renegade this week, refusing to shower every time I break a sweat, letting the patchouli mix in the perspiration. Its summer, or close enough, and I kind of like knowing my hair is currently drying under hat from riding 5 miles of trail.

At this moment, that’s pretty much the sum of what I have to say – music is fun, bike rides are good for you, and sweating detoxifies the body. ~ GoGo wisdom of the day.


Thursday, June 01, 2006

Addressing The Personal Realm

I have been thinking about the subject of who reads my blog for some time now. I have personal friends, new blog friends, and strangers who read this page. I’ve even wondered if it is a subject I “can” approach on the blog directly. But here I go, doing what feels right for me.

I feel strange writing on this page lately. I appreciate this medium because I feel I connect to parts of my life in a more creative and fluid motion that helps me to keep perspective on what living life means. An audience helps to promote my better qualities. :O). I never realized how many people who are in my life actually read this blog. In the past few weeks a number of people have brought up reading the blog in various ways and when I once thought it was just T, The Chief and Stonetree who read the blog, now has become many more then I could expect. It’s kind of weird. I feel this overwhelming sense to protect myself. Perhaps it’s worry about saying too much and being judged. Perhaps it’s because I have taken this space and purposefully created a space that is solely about me and I worry others will make it about them, even if it definitely is not. Perhaps it’s because I have no control over what others see when they read this. I do know that I appreciate those who read this blog to know me better, and am glad they want to see me on this page.

Overall, I love writing here. I like the me that translates onto the page and my authentic reaction to feelings and situations in my life. I like that this page is about me. I even like the fact that I have friends who want to know this end of me.

There is a part of me though, that needs to address what this page means for me, an electronic world boundary, I suppose. This page is developed out of self-introspection and a love for creating words to reflect the movements in life. This page holds my humor, my sarcasm, my honesty, my respect and care, and all other aspects I am at this moment. It is solely intended to be a space for me to delve into me. (Insert a sudden need to look up narcissi disorders to check criteria). Even with the most difficult feelings addressed on this page, I hope those who read do not take it upon themselves to fix me or do something different. I never asked for that.

I know those close in my life read this as a way to get to know me better (and to see when they get mentioned :O) ). I hope to always bring up the best in my relationships with my close friends here and never harm anyone with my words. I also feel protective of myself that friends may start to over analyze this page to find themselves in my words. I would hope they would talk to me directly about my intentions rather then assume. Believe me, if I thought I was talking about other people other then with respect, I would try to avoid it. At the same time, I’m going to approach this blog as though it really is about my feelings, perspectives, hopes and fears.

As for fellow bloggers and strangers, I hope you appreciate the page for what it is too.

All right, I’ll probably go back to the regularly scheduled programming later this evening with a more routine post.