Should his heart break
and the grief pour out,
it would
flow over
the whole earth,
it seems,
and yet,
no one sees it.
~ Anton Chekhov
1 month until new book!
1 week ago
Thursday, October 17, 2013
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
no time to write ... here
I am slogging through my exam rewrites ... slowly, but, hopefully, steadily.
I saw this on a break, and thought I would share it. Hoping you were celebrating contact for the good aspects -- and sending peaceful thoughts to those who through contact found only death, violence and savagery.
There are two sides to every coin, and sometimes we need the less deplorable side to shine.
So, thanks to contact the world has tomatoes and llamas and pow wows and many other things... it's a little bit of a silver lining.
I saw this on a break, and thought I would share it. Hoping you were celebrating contact for the good aspects -- and sending peaceful thoughts to those who through contact found only death, violence and savagery.
There are two sides to every coin, and sometimes we need the less deplorable side to shine.
So, thanks to contact the world has tomatoes and llamas and pow wows and many other things... it's a little bit of a silver lining.
Monday, October 14, 2013
NRU, a little outrage is necessary
I continue to be shocked by what we allow to happen in our society -- and call it justice. Rest in Peace, Mr. Wallace.
Sadly, when you want to be a little outraged, there is no shortage of stories to feed the need. This one is egregious in many ways: 1) it is such a clear demonstration of the lack of respect people in Mexico have for the indigenous -- in that not to be outdone by other nations way; 2) it is funny that any one in this country could be so outraged given that it spends so much time and effort demonizing the indigenous people who come here from Mexico to do our dirty work (I know that they don't call them indigenous but their ignorance about the ethnicity of many workers from Mexico does not soften their words); and 3) once again, women and children get the short end of the stick. You see, so much outrage for one little story.
We were still raw from my sister's hospital experience when I had to take my mom to the emergency room almost two weeks ago. We were lucky to be blessed with very professional and competent nurses and doctors. However, even in that atmosphere of competence, it was clear that they all had so many things to keep in mind. Things could go awry -- patients could get the wrong medicine, food, treatment, unless everyone was on top of their games -- including the patient and patient family. I know it is a luxury of sorts, but, please don't leave your loved ones in the hospital alone. This story demonstrates with fatal consequences that our loved ones need us with them in the hospital. I have no doubt that the hospital staff is sorry and horrified, but the patient is dead. There are jobs where there are no take backs, and medicine is one of them. Only people who are willing to give 110% should be in the profession.
I am not the only one feeling like a little outrage is necessary ... though I am not sure I can muster outrage for the lost adulthood of America or the imposter service dogs, I see the point of these authors ... more importantly, I understand the need to vent a little. Though these stories do remind me a little too much of Andie MacDowell's character in Sex, Lies, and Videotape malenting over the garbage mounds in the ocean.
[As a side note, I think I learned to hate and avoid Andie MacDowell on the basis of her annoying character in that movie ... I rooted for her skanky sister throughout, she was more appealing. Tells you something about the sympathy level the characters evoked. Good movie though.]
It's hard to know where to start with the outrage for this story about adoptive parents of international children putting kids up on a listserv when the parents find they can no longer handle those kids. In essence, this report is talking about another way children are sold into slavery and the sex trade. I know it was not those adoptive parents' objective, but it is an unforeseen byproduct. Sadly, the folks in this interview are unwilling to go out on that limb. I wonder, if these folks had birthed children that they couldn't handle as teenagers, would they have dropped them off with sexual predators in a trailer park? The outrage need not end with the irresponsible adults adopting children and then attempting to give them back. Adoption over age 4 is hard for anyone from anywhere. With all the money that private, international adoption agencies collect from prospective parents, those who often are unwilling to go through the background searches that domestic adoptive parents do, you would think those companies could afford to train the parents or offer other after care support. How about once you have allowed a child into the country, and presumably sanctioned the adoption in some legal way, how is it the government has no record of these children? And no responsibility?
On the silver lining side of outrage, this piece details how some states moved on gun control after the Newtown shootings. It may not all work out, but if enough states in the country can maintain the outrage, perhaps we could finally convince our federal government to make some substantive changes. Perhaps we could start to think about more trainings about spotting mental illness and come up with some helpful ways to intervene. One can always hope.
Sadly, when you want to be a little outraged, there is no shortage of stories to feed the need. This one is egregious in many ways: 1) it is such a clear demonstration of the lack of respect people in Mexico have for the indigenous -- in that not to be outdone by other nations way; 2) it is funny that any one in this country could be so outraged given that it spends so much time and effort demonizing the indigenous people who come here from Mexico to do our dirty work (I know that they don't call them indigenous but their ignorance about the ethnicity of many workers from Mexico does not soften their words); and 3) once again, women and children get the short end of the stick. You see, so much outrage for one little story.
We were still raw from my sister's hospital experience when I had to take my mom to the emergency room almost two weeks ago. We were lucky to be blessed with very professional and competent nurses and doctors. However, even in that atmosphere of competence, it was clear that they all had so many things to keep in mind. Things could go awry -- patients could get the wrong medicine, food, treatment, unless everyone was on top of their games -- including the patient and patient family. I know it is a luxury of sorts, but, please don't leave your loved ones in the hospital alone. This story demonstrates with fatal consequences that our loved ones need us with them in the hospital. I have no doubt that the hospital staff is sorry and horrified, but the patient is dead. There are jobs where there are no take backs, and medicine is one of them. Only people who are willing to give 110% should be in the profession.
I am not the only one feeling like a little outrage is necessary ... though I am not sure I can muster outrage for the lost adulthood of America or the imposter service dogs, I see the point of these authors ... more importantly, I understand the need to vent a little. Though these stories do remind me a little too much of Andie MacDowell's character in Sex, Lies, and Videotape malenting over the garbage mounds in the ocean.
[As a side note, I think I learned to hate and avoid Andie MacDowell on the basis of her annoying character in that movie ... I rooted for her skanky sister throughout, she was more appealing. Tells you something about the sympathy level the characters evoked. Good movie though.]
It's hard to know where to start with the outrage for this story about adoptive parents of international children putting kids up on a listserv when the parents find they can no longer handle those kids. In essence, this report is talking about another way children are sold into slavery and the sex trade. I know it was not those adoptive parents' objective, but it is an unforeseen byproduct. Sadly, the folks in this interview are unwilling to go out on that limb. I wonder, if these folks had birthed children that they couldn't handle as teenagers, would they have dropped them off with sexual predators in a trailer park? The outrage need not end with the irresponsible adults adopting children and then attempting to give them back. Adoption over age 4 is hard for anyone from anywhere. With all the money that private, international adoption agencies collect from prospective parents, those who often are unwilling to go through the background searches that domestic adoptive parents do, you would think those companies could afford to train the parents or offer other after care support. How about once you have allowed a child into the country, and presumably sanctioned the adoption in some legal way, how is it the government has no record of these children? And no responsibility?
On the silver lining side of outrage, this piece details how some states moved on gun control after the Newtown shootings. It may not all work out, but if enough states in the country can maintain the outrage, perhaps we could finally convince our federal government to make some substantive changes. Perhaps we could start to think about more trainings about spotting mental illness and come up with some helpful ways to intervene. One can always hope.
Friday, October 11, 2013
perspective, part 47
Some days there don't seem to be any lights at the end of the tunnel... only the cold, muddy earth beneath my feet, slowing my progress. I wonder what else could be around the corner, waiting to pounce.
I try to imagine what my brother and sister would say. They would tell me life is too short.
I know that.
I want to know what to do ... which way to turn, how to get out of this mess without losing myself and still moving forward with my own goals and dreams.
But, truthfully, the only dream I have right at this moment, is a good night's sleep and an empty to do list.
-----------
I leave the windows down in my car just a crack so the air can circulate ... the other day, my mom came in and said to me, "Chila's in your car." I am not sure what the look on my face said to her. She continued, "there's a white butterfly in your car." Her face was alight with the hope and belief that what she said was true. All I could feel was an ache in the center of my body.
For the past two weeks, I have felt like someone was vacuuming out my soul ... as if someone had stuck a hose into the chest cavity. It an odd ache ... that feeling I can only associate with heartache. Or whatever is worse than heartache... something like the space where a heart used to be, empty, aching and unable to heal.
------------
I keep getting out of bed and standing upright and trying to move forward when all I want to do is curl up in a ball and cry. I want to be anywhere but here, to run away to where none of this is true, to be safe somewhere from whatever is going to happen next.
But, I am here, and my parents are here, and my rewrites are due in two weeks, and I am exhausted and feel like I have no more to give. And I will keep on giving and hope it doesn't kill me, too.
I try to imagine what my brother and sister would say. They would tell me life is too short.
I know that.
I want to know what to do ... which way to turn, how to get out of this mess without losing myself and still moving forward with my own goals and dreams.
But, truthfully, the only dream I have right at this moment, is a good night's sleep and an empty to do list.
-----------
I leave the windows down in my car just a crack so the air can circulate ... the other day, my mom came in and said to me, "Chila's in your car." I am not sure what the look on my face said to her. She continued, "there's a white butterfly in your car." Her face was alight with the hope and belief that what she said was true. All I could feel was an ache in the center of my body.
For the past two weeks, I have felt like someone was vacuuming out my soul ... as if someone had stuck a hose into the chest cavity. It an odd ache ... that feeling I can only associate with heartache. Or whatever is worse than heartache... something like the space where a heart used to be, empty, aching and unable to heal.
------------
I keep getting out of bed and standing upright and trying to move forward when all I want to do is curl up in a ball and cry. I want to be anywhere but here, to run away to where none of this is true, to be safe somewhere from whatever is going to happen next.
But, I am here, and my parents are here, and my rewrites are due in two weeks, and I am exhausted and feel like I have no more to give. And I will keep on giving and hope it doesn't kill me, too.
Thursday, October 10, 2013
Poetry Thursday, life right now
It's so curious:
one can resist tears
and 'behave' very well
in the
hardest hours of grief.
But then someone makes
you a friendly sign
behind a window,
or one notices that a flower
that was in bud only
yesterday
has suddenly blossomed,
or a letter slips
from a drawer...
and
everything collapses.
~Colette
This is exactly what it feels like lately... it is reminiscent of those damned coffee commercials that would make you cry for no good reason.
Monday, October 07, 2013
NRU - on the short side
These folks are walking a dangerous walk -- it certainly is laudable that they do more than just pray for these women. May they be safe and free from harm -- and continue to believe in the ability to change, to reclaim life.
Turns out flexibility is not only useful but necessary in many cases -- including when deciding who the parents are ... and how many there should be in any given child's life. Glad California figured this out ... hope some other states will as well.
Wow... I love mountain lions and it pains me any time one has to be harmed because we have encroached on their habitat ... love that this one is making a living in Griffith Park without endangering itself or the human visitors. Check P-22 out ... he is gorgeous!
This story never ceases to be heartbreaking. I am glad that the film maker ultimately was able to understand the pain of both boys.
Usually the long stories with musicians on the weekend Morning Editions bore me ... not so this week. I enjoyed listening to these sisters talk about their music, their families and their lives.
Turns out flexibility is not only useful but necessary in many cases -- including when deciding who the parents are ... and how many there should be in any given child's life. Glad California figured this out ... hope some other states will as well.
Wow... I love mountain lions and it pains me any time one has to be harmed because we have encroached on their habitat ... love that this one is making a living in Griffith Park without endangering itself or the human visitors. Check P-22 out ... he is gorgeous!
This story never ceases to be heartbreaking. I am glad that the film maker ultimately was able to understand the pain of both boys.
Usually the long stories with musicians on the weekend Morning Editions bore me ... not so this week. I enjoyed listening to these sisters talk about their music, their families and their lives.
Friday, October 04, 2013
perspective
Thursday, October 03, 2013
Poetry Thursday ... actually, quote Thursday
The last place
we tend to look
for healing
is within
ourselves.
~ Wayne Muller
 |
| Crazy fungus that looked like pooh, in Alaska |
Wednesday, October 02, 2013
breaking points
I was talking to someone recently, and I said, I don't think I can take one more thing.
Well, it feels like I have lived through a shit storm of one more things over the past few weeks.
Each time I weathered the storm, I thought, well, maybe I am stronger than I think.
And then I ended up in the hospital with my mom, and the camel's back really needed shoring up.
When my mom started taking off all her jewelry so I could take it home, and she got into the hospital bed, she suddenly looked like a small woman I barely recognized. Luckily, by the next afternoon when she talked them into letting her out, she jumped out of the bed, with the spring in her step I am used to seeing.
I don't think I have ever felt so close to a nervous breakdown as I did over the past three days.
But, I didn't break down ... perhaps I should have.
I just kept going. I took care of my mom and my dad and got my work for money done, for two jobs. I didn't get to my own work, not surprisingly.
I am just hoping to not to get sick and therefore even farther behind than I already am. But, honestly, I am also feeling like I just need to sit down, bury my head in my hands and cry until I can't anymore.
I am almost convinced that it would make me feel better -- almost -- the other part of me is convinced that there will never be an end.
I understand that my parents are getting on in age -- that they have had long, full lives -- but I think my nieces and nephews really need them to be here -- and I need to be home so I can take care of them -- even when they work my very last nerve.
I have learned that when it rains, it definitely pours; that there is no way to stop the deluge; that we have no control -- no control over any of this.
My parents teach me strength and frailty at the same time right now -- I find myself begging the spirit and universe to give me one more day with my parents -- to give them a healthy life -- to help me convince them to make healthy choices.
And, I am learning how far my back will bend ... maybe from this, I will also learn when it is okay to let the twigs snap. It might be we need to prune the twigs off in order to get some regeneration.
Well, it feels like I have lived through a shit storm of one more things over the past few weeks.
Each time I weathered the storm, I thought, well, maybe I am stronger than I think.
And then I ended up in the hospital with my mom, and the camel's back really needed shoring up.
When my mom started taking off all her jewelry so I could take it home, and she got into the hospital bed, she suddenly looked like a small woman I barely recognized. Luckily, by the next afternoon when she talked them into letting her out, she jumped out of the bed, with the spring in her step I am used to seeing.
I don't think I have ever felt so close to a nervous breakdown as I did over the past three days.
 |
| Sign on GG Bridge |
I just kept going. I took care of my mom and my dad and got my work for money done, for two jobs. I didn't get to my own work, not surprisingly.
I am just hoping to not to get sick and therefore even farther behind than I already am. But, honestly, I am also feeling like I just need to sit down, bury my head in my hands and cry until I can't anymore.
I am almost convinced that it would make me feel better -- almost -- the other part of me is convinced that there will never be an end.
 | ||
| Mom and Dad |
I have learned that when it rains, it definitely pours; that there is no way to stop the deluge; that we have no control -- no control over any of this.
 |
| Again |
And, I am learning how far my back will bend ... maybe from this, I will also learn when it is okay to let the twigs snap. It might be we need to prune the twigs off in order to get some regeneration.
Tuesday, October 01, 2013
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