...as an apple loves teeth

my

My father is still dead & I sit in a fucking Starbucks like nothing is wrong.  Can you even imagine? My fucking heart is broken & shattered & I’m scared & panicky & fuck everything.  Nothing at all matters.

Not my lack of social skills.  No man. No child. No life really.  Not the loss of a child. Nothing.  No aloneness, hurt or betrayal or loss is any comparison to this fucked up shit.  Gone.  Gone, forever gone.

I will never hold his hand again.  Or danse with him. Or smell his breath or hug his warm body.  No, never again.  It’s done. All done. Nothing else matters.  I don’t even care about any of this other stuff.  It’s meaningless.  It matters not.

I can say & do & be anything at all.  Who cares? I can be Mercedes Ruehl or 1985 Madonna or nothing.  No one.  Nothing at all.

I haven’t enjoyed my life enough. I worry & fret & I am insecure & ashamed.  I am embarrassed & for what?  I’m not dead.  What a fucking waste.

I have to grow up a little & stop loving things which are meaningless & unworthy.  I can do & say & be whoever the fuck I want because what will happen? Will my father come back if I am good?  Because I can be good, but he won’t be back no matter what I do so fuck it.  Fuck it all.  I don’t fear death. Not my own death. I hate death.  The death of people I love.  I HATE it.  The concept & reality of it.  I hate it. Despise it.  Fuck God.  There is NO god.

The thing is Da believed.  He believed in God & took us to church & loved to sing.  He was such a beautiful person & I was a bitchy, horrible selfish girl.  Disrespectful & awful.  What the fuck was my problem? What was I waiting for.  I hate myself & it hurts.  This fucking hurts so much.  God damn it.  The scar is on my whole life.  So broken & seared. 

Christmas – camping, hiking – church.  Airplanes & airports & trips & puppies & fuck it all.  Every part of me is him.  He infused each atom of me.  My being is an extension of him.  He is the love that built me.  The anger & the emotion & the hope & expectation.  All of it.

 

 

dog's best friend...

Translation of conversation in video: We are in Arahama area. Looks like there is a dog. There is a dog. He looks tired and dirty. He must have been caught in the tsunami. He looks very dirty. He has a collar. He must be someone's pet. He has a silver collar. He is shaking. He seems very afraid. Oh, there is another dog. I wonder if he is dead. Where? Right there. There is another dog right next to the one sitting down. He is not moving. I wonder. I wonder if he is alright. The dog is protecting him. Yes. He is protecting the dog. That is why he did not want us to approach them. He was trying to keep us at bay. I can't watch this. This is a very difficult to watch. Oh. Look. He is moving. He is alive. I am so happy to see that he is alive. Yes! Yes! He is alive. He looks to be weakened. We need to them to be rescued soon. We really want them rescued soon. Oh good. He's getting up. It is amazing how they survived the tremendous earthquake and tsunami. It's just amazing that they survived through this all. more here

man's best friend

owner and dog reunited in the aftermath of the japanese earthquake/tsunami.  just more heartbreak around the world. :(

'The shame, the shame of what they are doing to Bahrain. The shame'

' The gist of it is she’s speaking from near a hospital. People cannot leave their homes. Everyone is very afraid. People are afraid to move around. The hospitals are being filled, people are dying. She describes some of the wounds she’s seen. What particularly cut me up was when she would call the king's name, “Abu Salman, Abu Salman. We’re done. That’s it.” or in the end, when she started saying “Haram, what they are doing to Bahrain. Haram.” '

imagine seeing an anchor in main stream media here break down like this with genuine emotion? you can see him trying the whole time to be strong.. but man -- listening to her voice wavering between fear and outrage and then dropping into completely stricken grief, it becomes impossible to maintain composure.

the newest version of the video includes a full, though rough, translation.  Though, you do not need to speak or understand arabic to hear the anguish in her voice.  It is hard to imagine someone not being moved by the stark feelings she is expressing.  this is heartbreaking.  

Feliz Navidad

Argon

I can't show this video enough.. I am in love with it... and like Dr. Sacks says in the interview.. I too sometimes feel like an inert gas, innately incapable of bonding.  Check the article here

What are you working on?

via sethgodin.typepad.com

rands tumbles - The Rules of Men When They Are Angry (Incomplete)

The Rules of Men When They Are Angry (Incomplete)(Contradictions forthcoming)1. We believe we have it all figured out and when data arrives that reminds us that we do not, we get angry.2. During this angry period, we are jerks.3. We are never wrong.4. Don’t get in the way. We’ll take it out on you. Doesn’t matter who you are.5. There is likely no conversation you can have with us which is going to make us feel better.  We need to move from boiling over to simmer to gone.6. Gone will show up when you’re not looking.7. You need to understand the basic reason we’re pissed, but even if you get us to talk, we’re not telling you the basic reason.

via rands.tumblr.com

don't complain...

 

This guy is my hero of the month.  just... wow.

Shake those hands

Nothing seems to please....

 

 

Peter Gabriel sings I Have the Touch

 

 

 

Broken Ladders

When I was in High School I had a stone that I carried with me everywhere I went.  It was small and smooth and marble white.  It was shaped like a fan or a guitar pick or a shell, depending on my fancy.  It fit into the palm of my hand perfectly.  I would often place it there while I was walking and feel its coolness, its perfect glossy finish like a fluid handshake. 

Once, while at a strawberry festival with my family, I lost it.  I didn't want to leave.  I remember telling my parents I had to look for the stone.  My da said, "It's just a rock, what is the big deal?"  My quick reply was, "A diamond is just a rock, too.  The value is what you deem it be."  I was vehement and he thought I was being silly but I loved that rock.  It had great value for me.  It was talismanic.  

I found my stone that day.  I could not think of leaving the fair without it.  

I have never been particularly fond of diamonds, nor could I understand why people, ladies especially I'm afraid, were so taken by them.  A diamond has been made into the requisite testament of any man's affections. I find this state of affairs utterly ridiculous.  My favourite flowers are gardenias, they smell to me like heaven, almost making me want to eat them.  They are hard to come by but so worth it.  Should I be made to accept that roses are necessary for every romantic occasion simply to satisfy a societal pressure that puts them on the top of the herbaceous heap? Bully for that. 

I've had beautiful rubies and turquoise and topaz and sapphires and emeralds.  I prefer a stone that has character.  I've had a love affair with jade for years and have been gifted jade as a romantic (and perfect for me) Valentine's Day present.  It made me happier than any sparkling diamond ever could have.

High School was a long time ago. 

This week, I read a quote from the chairman of De Beers, the multi-national diamond consortium, stating the rather obvious (to me):  "Diamonds are intrinsically worthless, except for the deep psychological need they fill." We needed to wait till 2010 for the diamond industry mastermind to alert us to what a child inherently knows?  'A rock is a rock and the rock that I value has value for me.  No one can assign or take away the worth of something I value.'

I received some beautiful jewelry for my birthday.  The ring was jade.      

 

 (Click here for more background about the marriage traditions that so many people take for granted but which are really just more of the brainwashing provided by the best publicity machine since Sterling/Cooper)