February 21, 2012 at 4:32 PM My first post has gone live on the CancerWise blog!
It's gotten good responses via facebook (which I'll check from home--is blocked at work, and yes, I have a FB shutupit'sallJaime'sfault) and a really lovely compliment via email.
cancer, cancerwise.org, m.d. anderson February 20, 2012 at 3:52 PM Today would have been Kurt Cobain's 45th birthday. I don't automatically remember his birthday or do any somber rituals to commemorate the day or anything; I just happened to catch a blurb somewhere saying he would have been 45 today. That blows my mind a little, as he joined the 27 Club in 1994. Jimmy, my elder nephew, wasn't even a year old when he died; J2, nephew the younger, wasn't even born. And me, I was just one year older when he died than the number of years he's been gone now (19 and 18 respectively).
I think Kurt Cobain is the closest my generation (X, bitches) had to an Elvis or a John Lennon. My dad remembers where he was when he heard about the death of both of those legends. I think most people in my generation remember the moment they heard about Cobain's death. I was in the passenger seat of JD's car, driving up to my parents' house for the weekend when we caught a static-infused blip on KROQ (we weren't yet completely in range) saying something about Kurt Cobain. I turned to JD and said, "I bet he fucking killed himself." Once that was confirmed, I added, "I wonder how many kids will off themselves now?" Thankfully, it was far fewer than I anticipated. I never got a chance to see Nirvana live. It's my one true concert regret.
I wasn't devastated at the news of his death. I expected it, really. I saw the signs there. I was just beginning to really acknowledge the bloom of my own depression and while I could understand his thought processes and the reasoning behind his actions, I didn't fully grasp why I could do either of those things. It's only recently, within the last few months, that I've really started digging into more his biography. The spark began with a dream I had in which I was convinced I could have saved him. It was one of those dreams that haunts me long after I've woken up, still haunts me now. I knew there had to be a reason my brain gave me that dream at that time, but I couldn't get past the ghosts to see what that reason was.
Recently, Shannon and I were going over a dream she had, trying to suss out her brain's reasons for sending a particular dream her way. I had an insight or two that surely stems from years of therapy (PB is big into dreams--I haven't told her about the Cobain dream because I want to keep it untouched) and told her a little more about my recent Cobain dream. Neither of us had an epiphany within our emails; there was no "ah ha!!" with pointed finger and illuminated lightbulb to signify that this--THIS--is the reason we had those dreams. Just two friends talking it out with one another.
A few days after that email exchange, I was walking from my living room to my bedroom and caught a glance at the curtains in The Area when it hit me. The reason for my Kurt dream, or more specifically, who Kurt was representing in my dream. An old friend of mine, a member of the 16 Club that was disturbingly popular when I was in high school (although his was not a self-induction to the club), technically an ex boyfriend of mine and probably the only person I'd ever deem worthy of the title of "soulmate." (I suppose I'll find out the accuracy of that adjudication when I leave this body.) The lightbulb hit me more like a tidal wave of cinder blocks than a triumphant "ah ha!" It was trailed by a tinkley breeze of chuckles, an emotional spritzing of Bactine on a fresh, stinging scrape.
I'd lost touch with his mother a year or so after his death. She left my childhood town and I was in college by then. It was probably easier for her to heal without the surrounding reminders of him. The last time I saw her was on what would have been his 17th birthday. I remember sitting at her feet on the floor with a few of his other friends, all of us crying. That night, I dedicated my senior project for my television production class to him.
I did some research and discovered that his mother is now living fewer than 200 miles away from me in Killeen. How did it happen that we moved to the same general area of this giant country? I'm still bewildered at discovering that she's so close, considering we're over 1,500 miles from where it all happened. I haven't decided whether or not I'll make contact; I'm waiting for more guidance on that.
Perhaps Kurt will pay me another visit tonight.
February 14, 2012 at 4:06 PM I'm single so Valentine's isn't my favourite holiday. Even when I haven't been single on Valentine's, it hasn't been a holiday that registered much for me except for the candy. Truthfully, even the candy isn't all that great. (Easter is the candy el dorado.) Roses are pretty but not my favourite flower, especially in red, and they're ridiculously overpriced right now. I'm not as bitter as I have been in the past, but on the whole today is just not a big deal to me. Of course, that said, I did get three cards in the mail yesterday, two of which made me bawl and one which made me laugh. Luckily, I opened them in that order.
I won "MVP" of my team last Friday during the bowling ramp up. We also locked into last place, score-wise. I know I helped with that a lot too. (Hey, we got a prize for it! But really, it's just that I suck at bowling.) I'm not sure what I did to deserve the MVP aside from ham-up without a lick of shame (stick-on mustache!) and dance to the music that was playing, but I'll take it! I won a bowling pin. That might not sound like a big deal to anyone else, but I like quirky shit like that. I was looking on ebay for bowling pins a few years ago. So now I have one. I have to think of some other quirky object I must have now.
The diet continues. I was up last week and a little confused about it, as I'd been pretty damn good (aside from a visit to Meat Church). I weighed again Friday night on a lark and fully clothed, I weighed less than I did that morning. So I decided it was a fluke, some trickery by my body to keep me from getting smug or something. In any case, I'm not bothered by it. It won't be the last time the numbers go up. Another number that's up is my grocery budget. Crispy McFuckcheese, fresh food is expensive! I find it irritating that a pound of cherries (roughly $5 last Sunday) is more expensive than a "value" meal at most fast food places. I don't really consider the grease, heartburn, and fat ass that come with that meal to be a "value" but it's cheaper than a bowl of cherries and there's something inherently wrong with that.
I tend to do my grocery shopping on Sunday afternoons, which is a little stupid. I bring my shuffle, throw in my earbuds and bop through the aisles, ignoring all the fussy children, exasperated mothers, and idiot men who don't seem to understand how grocery stores work. It helps keep me from strangling strangers in my way. I'd like to switch it over to a week night, but I'm stocked up right now and my weeknights will be few and far between soon. Plus, then I'll miss Wheel of Fortune and the opportunity to laugh gleefully at the people who buy obvious vowels and then hit bankrupt immediately. (Frivolous vowel purchase infuriates me. Shut up.)
So I've noticed that I don't get nearly as much heartburn as I used to. I figured that would happen as my weight went down but I haven't really shed that much and the difference is staggering to me. Obviously, there's something to this "eating better" thing, even if it's not the most fun. I noticed I was walking a little differently today. It's a walk that I recognise from a long time ago; I don't know how to explain it, but I do hope that it sticks around. When I was hitting the gym daily (sometimes twice) when we first moved to Texas, I had this silly habit of mashing all the fat on my belly into a ball shape. (I know, it sounds nuts.) I remember that ball getting smaller and smaller as I went to the gym. At my thinnest point, my hands touched each other around that little ball. My hands are still very far apart in the belly smoosh exercise now. I want that little ball back.
blah blah blah, mundania, weighty matters February 9, 2012 at 9:25 PM Tomorrow, my office is having its busy season kick-off meeting. It's supposed to get us pumped up and get us off running towards April 17th. (You get two extra days this year as the 15th is a Sunday and the following Monday is Emancipation Day in Washington DC.) We're doing team bowling at a newish place downtown that I've heard is really cool. We had to do a football theme to our teams (superbowl tie in?) and name them using words from a specific list of football terms. I liked the "First Downs Syndrome" but that didn't fly so we're the "Hikes, Spikes, & Strikes." I like my team--we'll have a good time. We won't win because I'll be bowling and that ensures we're probably going to bring up the rear, but we'll laugh and have a good time.
Technically, I think busy season has already started. We've changed procedures drastically. Again. Lost 2 admins in a week. A lot more steps to each return. Hundreds of new returns on my team alone. Simply put, I'm scared. I anticipate overtime will begin next week and we'll be diving straight into 60 hour weeks. The money will be excellent, as will the lack of spending it because I am always at work. I'm frightened of the fatigue and the breakdows and the inevitable fuck ups that I am obligated to own up to, even if they aren't mine. I'm just anxious.
I was so exhausted today at work. Didn't sleep well last night. Crazy week. Just exhausted. Took an ambien early tonight so I could go to bed early except it's already got its fingers on my brain.
I'm alive. Sleepy. Pilled. Zzzzz. Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
February 6, 2012 at 2:19 PM The weekend-accomplishment list works for me. I think I might keep that up. Mainly because I don't have the time for a proper entry right now. Work with what you've got, eh?
Not bad, eh? Especially since I didn't feel like I got a whole lot done!
life in list form