What if being a Motherless Daughter wasn't all there was to my life?
What if in these eight months since I last posted, I found I felt less like a Motherless Daughter, and more like an honest to goodness happy person? Can the two exist simultaneously?
What if I had bad days that weren't exacerbated by the fact that Mom is gone? What if they were just... bad days? Nothing more. Nothing that lingers. Nothing that would last beyond a few brief hours.
Could you, dear reader, be a Happy Motherless Daughter? Could you find other things that define who you are?
Because really... what if being a Motherless Daugther wasn't all there was for you?
-TL
Friday, April 11, 2008
Friday, August 10, 2007
Blog the Twenty-Seventh
(Pre-Apology: Sorry that the photos and text in this post are all over the place! The New Blogger isn't very photo friendly and I just get too frustrated trying to format XML. Hope you like it anyway, and there's a video at the end! Promise my next photo blog will be more reader friendly!)
There are times, Motherless Daughter, when life will take over and steer you towards happiness, even if you don't want to go, and are dragged kicking and screaming. Good things will happen. Let them. And enjoy.
Here's a bit of what's been happening in my world.
Here's a bit of what's been happening in my world.
First Time Father-Daughter Team Makes Debut At
Nautica NYC Triathlon
"The CaliYorkers"
Growing up in New York City you hear a lot about the Hudson River, and none of it good. You wouldn’t want to touch that river with the tip of your toe, let alone go swimming in it. But that’s exactly what mixed relay team “The CaliYorkers” did on Sunday July 22nd for the 7th rendition of the Nautica NYC Triathlon.
My Father (Nelson Molina) and I had never done any Father - Daughter events together, so we were both very excited about participating in the NYC Tri as teammates. For months we trained together, Dad on the east coast and me on the west, by calling regularly to check up on progress and set new challenges for each other. My Father is a great runner, so I had a whole lot of catching up to do!
We opted to check-in early (good idea!), so Friday evening was spent at the 53rd street Hilton Hotel listening to briefings, picking up race packets and browsing all the race merchandise that was for sale. Saturday was bike drop off day. Team CaliYorkers was in Yellow Transition.
Lucky us, we got a great spot right near the runner’s exit, under a shady tree and by the fence! It was very easy to find my bike after the near 1/4 mile run back to the transition.
As you can see from the pictures, the weather was sure with us last weekend. Rain was in the forecast, yet from the day I arrived in New York, till the day after the race, skies were blue and the sun was brilliantly shining. It was the perfect day for a triathlon!
A Swim in the Mighty Hudson
There were a lot of other firsts to note surrounding this event. Besides being our first Father -Daughter event, Nautica NYC was also our first Olympic Distance race. It was the first time I was doing two parts of a tri – swim/bike. And it was the first time anyone in my family (and probably so for many participants!) had taken a dip in the Hudson River.I really didn’t know what to expect of the Hudson. All the news on the Nautica site professed that the river was as clean as it’s been
in 100 years. Yet I couldn’t help get a bit queasy at the thought of swimming in the infamous river. And I wasn’t the only one. Many family members and friends wished me luck, particularly on the swim – noting that I should be careful not to swallow anything, and might want to consider covering myself entirely in plastic!
All worries were for nothing as it turned out. I’ve not had a more beautiful, clean, fun and fast swim in my two seasons in triathlon! The Hudson was MUCH cleaner than I expected. The 1500 meter straightaway (with the current) was lined by the seawall and spectators on the left, and by a host of very expensive looking yachts on the right. Kayakers provided further line sighting and safety. I did see a few people needing to be pulled out of the water just before the 900m mark. You may be able to see the finish from the start, but once you’re in the water, 1500 meters is really a long way!
I finished the swim in 30 minutes, and that was with some sightseeing along the way. Since I’d never been in the Hudson, I didn’t want to miss the view by speeding along. I took some time to wave to the people and appreciate the view - which included a lovely Jersey riverside and a majestic George Washington Bridge.The one bit of advice that everyone got was not to stand up before the finish. Swim all the way to the ramp and then stand.
Reason – you’ll get stuck in the Hudson River muck and freeing yourself will take forever! As you can see, most folks took that advice!
Up the Westside Highway
I wore those Mickey Ears for 25 miles! I got only compliments, big smiles and dozens of renditions of the Mickey Mouse Club theme song. One rider even shouted, “Good to see someone with a sense of humor!” as he flew past me heading back down.While the hills were killer (who knew!), the view was once again spectacular. The West side of Manhattan is much more scenic than the East. The bike course started on 79th street and proceeded north to Gun Hill Road in The Bronx before it looped back again.
This route takes you along the Hudson River, past lines of lush green trees, below the Cloister’s Museum at Fort Tryon Park, past the George Washington Bridge, through toll ways and byways until finally it’s time to come back and see it all over again.
I lived in NYC for 18 years before I left to college. I was born and raised in Manhattan and The Bronx, and it wasn’t till this ride that I realized I had missed so much of what makes the city so stunning. I would be the first to tell anyone there’s nothing but trash, big buildings and bad smells in New York. But after this race, I find I am sorely, and happily, mistaken.
Treading the outskirts of the city, sticking by the handsome Hudson, reveals a side of the city I imagine mostly only tourists get to see. It was quite an experience to catch a new side of my hometown. I finished my first 40K in 2:34:35.
Runners get all the Glory
That’s my Dad! Runner extraordinaire! This was his first triathlon experience and to get ready, he had returned home to prepare for his leg of the race. Who goes back home?! Well he did, and arrived just minutes before it was time to transition. We couldn’t have asked for better timing, or I would have been quite worried as to where my Father was!
Dad has been a runner all his life. He completed the Yonkers Marathon and made it all the way to mile 20 of the NYC Marathon before bonking (this was years ago of course). In 1981, he was on the front page of the sport’s section of the NY Times for participating and completing the Pepsi Challenge - a run from Jersey, across the GW and down into Manhattan. This race started Dad’s racing career. 26 years later, he’s still going strong!
My Father crossed the finish line in 51:19 – his best time yet for a 10k.
The Family that Tris Together
At the end of it all, my Father and I, Team CaliYorkers, finished 22nd among 25 mixed relay teams. Our total time was 4:08:54 (this includes transition times). We had 21 friends and family members cheering us on, a few had even seen the entire race from swim start to the finish line.Our guests were New York City natives, or from parts such as Ithaca, New York and as far away as Fayetteville, North Carolina!
The Nautica NYC Triathlon was a great challenge, a great experience, and a great way to bring the family together. My Father and I are planning to do it again next year but this time as individual competitors! I have no doubt I’ll get my Father on the swim, but once he’s out of the water, I’ll be in big trouble!
Thanks to you, friends, family, and co-workers for all the awesome training help and wonderful moral support! Till next year!
Swim – Bike – Run!
Swim – Bike – Run!
Check out video of my swim!
Saturday, June 09, 2007
In Memory
Today is the 12th Anniversay of my Mother's passing
RIP
Luz Violet Frasqueri
1955 - 1995
Miss you and love you always...
Friday, May 18, 2007
Blog the Twenty-Sixth
The Great Spirit should not have made me a Romantic. To stand and persevere beyond the death of my Mother, only to be felled by the face of a little girl or the embrace of a young man, seems a cruel twist. Such small things. Such small things.
Longing and yearning are words for Poets. They should have no place in my life. I've lived where there is hardship and struggle. Lived in the pain of loss and have made the most out of the dark. Content to finally be getting by. To finally being okay. And now, the profound sense of something missing.
Not everyone gets to have more. To put a desire in the heart, that cannot be had - a dinner of nails and glass would be better digested.
Children and travel and a man full of love, is a request the Universe cannot always grant. To align stars and time and fate is not easily accomplished. Yet the Great Spirit makes me a Romantic regardless, to yearn and to long with the Poets, to have a desire of the heart.
Feed me a second then, I should exclaim. Of Nails and of Glass. And all the good fortune to find what one seeks.
"Love, and do what you like. "
-St. Augustine
-TL
Longing and yearning are words for Poets. They should have no place in my life. I've lived where there is hardship and struggle. Lived in the pain of loss and have made the most out of the dark. Content to finally be getting by. To finally being okay. And now, the profound sense of something missing.
Not everyone gets to have more. To put a desire in the heart, that cannot be had - a dinner of nails and glass would be better digested.
Children and travel and a man full of love, is a request the Universe cannot always grant. To align stars and time and fate is not easily accomplished. Yet the Great Spirit makes me a Romantic regardless, to yearn and to long with the Poets, to have a desire of the heart.
Feed me a second then, I should exclaim. Of Nails and of Glass. And all the good fortune to find what one seeks.
"Love, and do what you like. "
-St. Augustine
-TL
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Photo Post #2 - Magic Does Happen
Where does TL work? Someplace where they let us graffiti the walls (this is in the stairwell) with beautiful artwork like this. What creative delinquents we have.
Monday, April 30, 2007
Blog the Twenty-fifth
There are some days when I just don't know what to do with myself. While the daytime hours may have been productive (or at least bordered on productive - I still can't get to those damn dishes!) as the sun sets and the evening hours come, I would occasionally find myself anxious to last those few hours between dusk and dark. Those precious few hours before sleep.
What will I do, I think. I'd better have something or else I'll start thinking of Mom, or of what I don't have, or of what I do have that I don't want. I can only watch so many hours of Battlestar Galactica, or play so many hours of FATE. I could hit the sack at 5 p.m. or 6 p.m. but after a few days of that, I start to feel like I'm missing life.
Soon you do just have to face yourself. Most times I'm good at that and can be in my own space without a problem. But still, even these 12 years after Mom's death, once in awhile, I do get a little paranoid as I don't want to spend hours hurting or crying or angry in my own home. I don't want that kind of upsetting energy constantly in my space. But I can feel it coming, like watching a storm make its way across the sea. First the clouds arrive to set the mood and then the waves get choppy, lapping hurriedly at the shore. At that point I know I'll be a wreck in no time flat. I won't be able to help myself, so I'd better get out and do something and fast.
And that's exactly what I did a couple weekends ago. I found myself having a fantastic time in the sunlight hours (I even got my motorcycle permit!) but as the day drew on and the sun started to go down, I could feel the anxiety and the sadness bubbling inside. Instead of sitting at home though, I went for a drive. Advice from Blog the Third . I wrote that entry over a year ago and here it is helping me today.
Who knew where I was going at 7:30 at night, but I knew I just had to go. I took my blanket and my iPod, hopped in the car and headed for the PCH. Altadena to Pasadena. Down Arroyo Parkway. Over the Arroyo Seco. To the west and out to the water. I took the PCH passed Santa Monica and Malibu. I went passed Point Dume (my favorite beach) and as I approached Neptune's Net I felt it wasn't time for me to stop going. So I kept driving. 70 miles later I arrive at a place called Point Mugu.
To get to it you have to pass between these two awesome rock formations. They sit on either side of the freeway. Reminded me of something out of "Close Encounters of the Third Kind." Point Mugu is military, so once I passed the Naval base I figured it was time to turn back. Back between the alien stones but I didn't go straight home. Still, I wasn't done yet. Instead, I pulled over to the side of the road, turned off my car and sat in my car window.
It's kind of something you would do at a drive-in I suppose (drive-in, who remembers those!?). I rested my arms atop my car and stared up to the sky, all while listening to the water hit the shore from a pitch black beach. The moon was a clear, bright silver crescent and I got a great dose of stars. The ocean air was sharp and cold - perfect.
No matter how much crying I do on the drive, no matter how much I'm decompressing on these long trips, I always leave it there on the side of the road. I always leave it there at the shore of the beach. I can imagine perhaps that the waves come take it away. Maybe the bad stuff comes with the storm, but I find the bad stuff leaves with it as well.
Don't forget to take time to decompress ladies. Cry it out. Yell it out. Scream, scream, scream. Don't take it out on your families or your friends. Don't take it out at the kid at the check out line or people at work. Find a way to take your long drive. Maybe that's actually driving, maybe it's crochet. Whatever it is, take time to do it. Breathe. Leave it at the shore. Just as the storm did bring it in, let the storm also take it away.
-TL
What will I do, I think. I'd better have something or else I'll start thinking of Mom, or of what I don't have, or of what I do have that I don't want. I can only watch so many hours of Battlestar Galactica, or play so many hours of FATE. I could hit the sack at 5 p.m. or 6 p.m. but after a few days of that, I start to feel like I'm missing life.
Soon you do just have to face yourself. Most times I'm good at that and can be in my own space without a problem. But still, even these 12 years after Mom's death, once in awhile, I do get a little paranoid as I don't want to spend hours hurting or crying or angry in my own home. I don't want that kind of upsetting energy constantly in my space. But I can feel it coming, like watching a storm make its way across the sea. First the clouds arrive to set the mood and then the waves get choppy, lapping hurriedly at the shore. At that point I know I'll be a wreck in no time flat. I won't be able to help myself, so I'd better get out and do something and fast.
And that's exactly what I did a couple weekends ago. I found myself having a fantastic time in the sunlight hours (I even got my motorcycle permit!) but as the day drew on and the sun started to go down, I could feel the anxiety and the sadness bubbling inside. Instead of sitting at home though, I went for a drive. Advice from Blog the Third . I wrote that entry over a year ago and here it is helping me today.
Who knew where I was going at 7:30 at night, but I knew I just had to go. I took my blanket and my iPod, hopped in the car and headed for the PCH. Altadena to Pasadena. Down Arroyo Parkway. Over the Arroyo Seco. To the west and out to the water. I took the PCH passed Santa Monica and Malibu. I went passed Point Dume (my favorite beach) and as I approached Neptune's Net I felt it wasn't time for me to stop going. So I kept driving. 70 miles later I arrive at a place called Point Mugu.
To get to it you have to pass between these two awesome rock formations. They sit on either side of the freeway. Reminded me of something out of "Close Encounters of the Third Kind." Point Mugu is military, so once I passed the Naval base I figured it was time to turn back. Back between the alien stones but I didn't go straight home. Still, I wasn't done yet. Instead, I pulled over to the side of the road, turned off my car and sat in my car window.
It's kind of something you would do at a drive-in I suppose (drive-in, who remembers those!?). I rested my arms atop my car and stared up to the sky, all while listening to the water hit the shore from a pitch black beach. The moon was a clear, bright silver crescent and I got a great dose of stars. The ocean air was sharp and cold - perfect.
No matter how much crying I do on the drive, no matter how much I'm decompressing on these long trips, I always leave it there on the side of the road. I always leave it there at the shore of the beach. I can imagine perhaps that the waves come take it away. Maybe the bad stuff comes with the storm, but I find the bad stuff leaves with it as well.
Don't forget to take time to decompress ladies. Cry it out. Yell it out. Scream, scream, scream. Don't take it out on your families or your friends. Don't take it out at the kid at the check out line or people at work. Find a way to take your long drive. Maybe that's actually driving, maybe it's crochet. Whatever it is, take time to do it. Breathe. Leave it at the shore. Just as the storm did bring it in, let the storm also take it away.
-TL
Friday, March 23, 2007
Quick Post It
Well, it's been another two month haitus. I can't believe how the time gets away from me when life decides to REALLY drive. A lot has happened in such a short time. I even got a promotion at work (which is where most of my time has gone).
As usual there are stories to tell and finally some pictures to share. If you're still even checking in on this, I hope you're all doing well and moving forward.
-TL
As usual there are stories to tell and finally some pictures to share. If you're still even checking in on this, I hope you're all doing well and moving forward.
-TL
Monday, January 22, 2007
Blog the Twenty-Fourth
I found looking for advice in all the wrong places can lead one to become quite confused, and more entangled in trying to decipher all the bad advice, than trying to unravel the challenge at hand.
During my intense research this weekend, while trying to tackle and unravel a challenge of my own, I found a lot of advice out on the Internet... that didn't help me at all. It actually made things worse.
As a Motherless Daughter, we try so hard to find the answers we need out there. It's 2 a.m. and I can't possibly call my best friend to talk. So I pop online hoping to discover the reason, the answers, behind why I act the way I act - why I said what I said - why I feel what I felt, and the worse - if I should do this or that (ugh, I hate when I get into that awful cycle). I want so desperately to be told, that I am okay, that I am not a big freak. And I found online that 50% of the time I'll hear what I want, and 50% of the time I won't.
If you look hard enough, you can find anything online to justify what you need justified. If you look hard enough, you'll also find the exact opposite.
Where did I get the best advice then? From the people who know me. From the folks who've known me a long time and intimately understand where I come from. From those who maybe haven't known we for years but are still caring friends. And I even got some good advice from myself (when I shut up long enough to listen).
And why did it work? Because I am person with a history. I am a person with unique circumstances. Because I am not a nameless, bodiless entity. And a website, especially a commercial one, can't possibly know that.
The next part though, once you know what needs to be done, is actually going about and doing it. And that is where I am right now. Maybe some website can't give me the best advice, but the Classics did. So here, in case you need a little dose of courage (like I do today), is what I did find online.
A few words of wisdom from Virgil:
During my intense research this weekend, while trying to tackle and unravel a challenge of my own, I found a lot of advice out on the Internet... that didn't help me at all. It actually made things worse.
As a Motherless Daughter, we try so hard to find the answers we need out there. It's 2 a.m. and I can't possibly call my best friend to talk. So I pop online hoping to discover the reason, the answers, behind why I act the way I act - why I said what I said - why I feel what I felt, and the worse - if I should do this or that (ugh, I hate when I get into that awful cycle). I want so desperately to be told, that I am okay, that I am not a big freak. And I found online that 50% of the time I'll hear what I want, and 50% of the time I won't.
If you look hard enough, you can find anything online to justify what you need justified. If you look hard enough, you'll also find the exact opposite.
Where did I get the best advice then? From the people who know me. From the folks who've known me a long time and intimately understand where I come from. From those who maybe haven't known we for years but are still caring friends. And I even got some good advice from myself (when I shut up long enough to listen).
And why did it work? Because I am person with a history. I am a person with unique circumstances. Because I am not a nameless, bodiless entity. And a website, especially a commercial one, can't possibly know that.
The next part though, once you know what needs to be done, is actually going about and doing it. And that is where I am right now. Maybe some website can't give me the best advice, but the Classics did. So here, in case you need a little dose of courage (like I do today), is what I did find online.
A few words of wisdom from Virgil:
Fortune favors the brave.
Hope on, and save yourself for prosperous times.
-TL
Sunday, January 07, 2007
Blog the Twenty-Third
Vulnerable: Capable of being physically or emotionally wounded. Open to attack or damage. Liable to succumb, as to persuasion or temptation.
I am a scrapper by nature. A fighter. I'm not particularly calm or patient. To achieve those states I have to be very mindful of where I am, who I'm talking to, what I'm saying - very mindful indeed. I see a situation, figure out what needs to be changed (if anything) and then go change it. No waiting. No coating with sugar. Done.
My years in the martial arts has helped me develop the tools for mindfulness. Being a Motherless Daughter has helped me live and interact with empathy and compassion.
But underneath it all, is the scrapper. Persistent fighter. Never giving up. Vulnerable is not a word in my vocabulary - until I get sick - and then I remember what weakness is.
I HATE getting sick. I remember the first time it happened after Mom passed away. That was a particularly significant moment, because when I was sick, it was Mom who used to take care of me. Rub the Vicks. Turn on the humidifier. Make me stay in bed. Bring the soup and crackers. Feel my head for my temperature. Laugh at me. Give me a kiss. Give me a hug. Tuck me under.
The first time I got sick after she died, I encountered one of those Big Reality Check Moments. Those are moments that come, perhaps well after the initial grief is waning - when you realize all the little things your Mother won't be around for. And most times it's the stupid little things you didn't think of that get you.
Every Motherless Daughter knows that Mom won't be around for weddings, babies or graduations anymore - the big things. But did you think of how it would feel when you recognize she won't be there to help fold the laundry, as she's sticking half way in the dryer searching for that one elusively stupid sock? Or, as in the case of fellow blogger Burfica, when the TV show you watched came on and Mom's no longer there to comment after the credits roll? Her favorite song coming on the radio. Her incessant comments about the most recent color of you hair.
Annoying or not. Irritating or not. These small things are now missing. And you get that gut twisting feeling of realization that she's not here - and she'll never be here to take care of you ever again, to annoy you ever again, to make comments ever again.
When I'm sick, is when I am the most vulnerable. And vulnerability is not a state that I am at all used to. It's then that the loneliness comes and all those thoughts that I usually keep at bay (no lover, no children, no family close) rush in. It makes being sick become more than just snot rags and coughing. When I am sick and feeling vulnerable, it becomes a difficult exercise in reality checks about where I am in life and who is not here. And about the only time one would get me to admit it sometimes sucks being alone.
But here is the saving grace - the flu doesn't last forever (thank goodness!). As long as I stay away from making uber significant decisions when I am at my most vulnerable, after a few days I am okay. And for the first time, as I am sick right now, I am letting myself be okay with my vulnerable feelings. Is it okay to feel sad that there is no one to take care of me but me? Sure is. Is it okay to miss Mom really bad? Yup. Can I watch eight hours of Battlestar Galactica curled up warmly on the couch? Go for it.
And well, maybe it's also time to try something different. While Mom and I had a ritual to do when we were sick, perhaps a new ritual is in order. 'Cause I have to admit, while it was nice having someone bring me soup and crackers, I really really REALLY hated wearing that Vicks!
-TL
I am a scrapper by nature. A fighter. I'm not particularly calm or patient. To achieve those states I have to be very mindful of where I am, who I'm talking to, what I'm saying - very mindful indeed. I see a situation, figure out what needs to be changed (if anything) and then go change it. No waiting. No coating with sugar. Done.
My years in the martial arts has helped me develop the tools for mindfulness. Being a Motherless Daughter has helped me live and interact with empathy and compassion.
But underneath it all, is the scrapper. Persistent fighter. Never giving up. Vulnerable is not a word in my vocabulary - until I get sick - and then I remember what weakness is.
I HATE getting sick. I remember the first time it happened after Mom passed away. That was a particularly significant moment, because when I was sick, it was Mom who used to take care of me. Rub the Vicks. Turn on the humidifier. Make me stay in bed. Bring the soup and crackers. Feel my head for my temperature. Laugh at me. Give me a kiss. Give me a hug. Tuck me under.
The first time I got sick after she died, I encountered one of those Big Reality Check Moments. Those are moments that come, perhaps well after the initial grief is waning - when you realize all the little things your Mother won't be around for. And most times it's the stupid little things you didn't think of that get you.
Every Motherless Daughter knows that Mom won't be around for weddings, babies or graduations anymore - the big things. But did you think of how it would feel when you recognize she won't be there to help fold the laundry, as she's sticking half way in the dryer searching for that one elusively stupid sock? Or, as in the case of fellow blogger Burfica, when the TV show you watched came on and Mom's no longer there to comment after the credits roll? Her favorite song coming on the radio. Her incessant comments about the most recent color of you hair.
Annoying or not. Irritating or not. These small things are now missing. And you get that gut twisting feeling of realization that she's not here - and she'll never be here to take care of you ever again, to annoy you ever again, to make comments ever again.
When I'm sick, is when I am the most vulnerable. And vulnerability is not a state that I am at all used to. It's then that the loneliness comes and all those thoughts that I usually keep at bay (no lover, no children, no family close) rush in. It makes being sick become more than just snot rags and coughing. When I am sick and feeling vulnerable, it becomes a difficult exercise in reality checks about where I am in life and who is not here. And about the only time one would get me to admit it sometimes sucks being alone.
But here is the saving grace - the flu doesn't last forever (thank goodness!). As long as I stay away from making uber significant decisions when I am at my most vulnerable, after a few days I am okay. And for the first time, as I am sick right now, I am letting myself be okay with my vulnerable feelings. Is it okay to feel sad that there is no one to take care of me but me? Sure is. Is it okay to miss Mom really bad? Yup. Can I watch eight hours of Battlestar Galactica curled up warmly on the couch? Go for it.
And well, maybe it's also time to try something different. While Mom and I had a ritual to do when we were sick, perhaps a new ritual is in order. 'Cause I have to admit, while it was nice having someone bring me soup and crackers, I really really REALLY hated wearing that Vicks!
-TL
Thursday, January 04, 2007
Blog the Twenty-Second
Make no mistake. The day the Mother dies, is the day your life changes forever.
I hate the hard truth of that.
It feels like a bomb went off - BOOM! vaporizing everything - and as if that weren't enough - its ripples broach the space-time continuum, its waves travel through a worm hole of cosmic proportions, to effect life and the future - ad infinitum.
Something blew up over there. And I am dealing with the consequences of that over here - everyday forever and ever.
Since the day my Mother died, it has always felt like my life split apart.
Two roads diverged in the wood, and I, I was forced to take the one that I didn't ever want, would never have wanted, wouldn't even have guessed could have ever existed. A life without my Mother - it was completely inconceivable.
In the early days, I would be so angry, cursing the state of things. "It wasn't supposed to be like this!" I'd wail. "I was supposed to be something else. I was supposed to be somewhere else. This wasn't how things were supposed to do down. She's supposed to be here. She's supposed to see all this. She's supposed to be alive!"
And yet, she is not.
I often wondered, if I were ever given a time machine, would I go back? Would I go back to change things?
The further along I come in life, and the further away I get from the day of Mom's death, the more I find the answer to the Time Machine question is... no.
Since my Mother's death, so many amazing things have happened in my life. As the years pass, I find it harder and harder to want to give all that up. The kind of person I am, the connections I've made, the people I love, the friendships, the successes - these have all come because I have experienced the death of a Mother.
Perhaps in the beginning, I may have been forced down this path, a life without my Mother. But that was indeed only the initiation, every step of the way after that, has all been my choice.
There will come a time, Motherless Daughter, when you will move from dying, to surviving to living to being your own success. This does not happen over night. The process is always slower than you think it should be. But as the years pass, and your life carries on, you may find that even though the bomb did go off, and that it may continually effect your life, that the flowers are still indeed growing here and there, the trees are indeed mending here and there. Perhaps Motherless Daughter, you'll find that regardless of that you were handed, you are actually making things work out.
-TL
I hate the hard truth of that.
It feels like a bomb went off - BOOM! vaporizing everything - and as if that weren't enough - its ripples broach the space-time continuum, its waves travel through a worm hole of cosmic proportions, to effect life and the future - ad infinitum.
Something blew up over there. And I am dealing with the consequences of that over here - everyday forever and ever.
Since the day my Mother died, it has always felt like my life split apart.
Two roads diverged in the wood, and I, I was forced to take the one that I didn't ever want, would never have wanted, wouldn't even have guessed could have ever existed. A life without my Mother - it was completely inconceivable.
In the early days, I would be so angry, cursing the state of things. "It wasn't supposed to be like this!" I'd wail. "I was supposed to be something else. I was supposed to be somewhere else. This wasn't how things were supposed to do down. She's supposed to be here. She's supposed to see all this. She's supposed to be alive!"
And yet, she is not.
I often wondered, if I were ever given a time machine, would I go back? Would I go back to change things?
The further along I come in life, and the further away I get from the day of Mom's death, the more I find the answer to the Time Machine question is... no.
Since my Mother's death, so many amazing things have happened in my life. As the years pass, I find it harder and harder to want to give all that up. The kind of person I am, the connections I've made, the people I love, the friendships, the successes - these have all come because I have experienced the death of a Mother.
Perhaps in the beginning, I may have been forced down this path, a life without my Mother. But that was indeed only the initiation, every step of the way after that, has all been my choice.
There will come a time, Motherless Daughter, when you will move from dying, to surviving to living to being your own success. This does not happen over night. The process is always slower than you think it should be. But as the years pass, and your life carries on, you may find that even though the bomb did go off, and that it may continually effect your life, that the flowers are still indeed growing here and there, the trees are indeed mending here and there. Perhaps Motherless Daughter, you'll find that regardless of that you were handed, you are actually making things work out.
-TL
Monday, January 01, 2007
Pit Stop
For the 6th Day of Christmas I commented briefly on the myriad questions Motherless Daughters want answers to, and how frustrating it is when those answers just don't come.
While perusing an old issue of O, The Oprah Magazine (April 2001 Vol.2 #4) I came across a bit of interesting advice. It's shared below:
An Open Question
It's not the answers that show us the way, says Czech poet Ranier Maria Rilke, but the questions.
While perusing an old issue of O, The Oprah Magazine (April 2001 Vol.2 #4) I came across a bit of interesting advice. It's shared below:
It's not the answers that show us the way, says Czech poet Ranier Maria Rilke, but the questions.
"Have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer."
-From Letters to a Young Poet, translated by Stephen Mitchell
Sunday, December 24, 2006
Blog the Twenty-First
10th Day of Christmas
You could do this: Refuse to enjoy life
But do this instead: Put your computer speakers up to ten, click the link below, and get ready for three and a half minutes of awesome living!
11th Day of Christmas
You could do this: See only doom and gloom and the sad grayness of life
But do this instead: Grab some crayons and color
Some things from my childhood did not stand the test of time: I'm not a voracious reader of Fangoria Magazine anymore. I don't want to tumble rocks. I don't wear five watches on one arm. But some things from my childhood have never left. One of those things is coloring.
I have all sorts of colored pens and pencils, markers, pastels, paints. And I have boxes of Crayola Crayons at home and at work with a jumbo coloring book accompanying each. My co-workers have caught me many a time at my desk or outside in the sun coloring away. At home, when I'm bummed out, a little coloring helps to turn my mood right around.
I am an "off-colorist" - rose petals turn green and the stems are purple. Puppy dogs are orange with silver polka dots. And while I do stay in the lines, there are no rules on the coloring page. Being able to do whatever you like, however you like, when everything else may be out of your hands, and even if it's just for coloring, feels really great.
I am an "off-colorist" - rose petals turn green and the stems are purple. Puppy dogs are orange with silver polka dots. And while I do stay in the lines, there are no rules on the coloring page. Being able to do whatever you like, however you like, when everything else may be out of your hands, and even if it's just for coloring, feels really great.
On the
12th and Really Freakin' Last Day of Christmas
But do this instead: Blog
Blog long. Blog hard. Blog wide. Blog with passion. Blog with humor. Blog with anger. Blog with pictures or just your writings.
We're out here reading. We know what it's like. We're sharing. We're connecting. And in Bloggerland, we are not alone - which is one of the best gifts a Motherless Daughter can have.
So Merry Christmas Motherless Daughters! Now, what did ya'll get me? :)
-TL
Saturday, December 23, 2006
Blog the Twentieth
Three this time :)
On the
7th Day of Christmas
You could do this: Hit something
But do this instead: Hit something really hard! But at your local batting cage or bowling alley
When it's been a tough day at work, or in life, and I need to rage against the machine, I hit up my local batting cage, plug up the iPod and have it.
For 15 to 20 minutes, I swing for the tree tops. I swing for deep right field. I swing to smash that flippin' ball across the universe, and as it flies away it takes with it all the crap of the bad day.
I suck at bowling, so you're just going to have to figure that one out for yourself ;p
On the
8th Day of Christmas
You could do this: Freak out and spin your own wheels
But do this instead: Read one entire book from cover to cover
I will be the first to admit, I can't sit still to save my life. I talk fast, I move fast, I work fast. But sometimes when things get a bit too overwhelming, I find a good way to sort through it all is to focus on one thing at time.
Taking the time to read a book, cover to cover, is a bit like meditating. Singleminded, still - and probably not very easy to do at first crack.
Get comfortable then with a blanket and your favorite cup of coffee or tea (I love Chai!). You will enter another world (Motherless Daughters could so use a healthy escape once in awhile), and force yourself to pay attention to only one task at a time. If you're like me - aka Speed Racer - you can cheat a little and pick a book with only a couple hundred pages. You can graduate to a tome later.
On the
9th Day of Christmas
You could do this: Hide away the memories
But do this instead: Celebrate the memories!
While it doesn't happen as much anymore, the images of my dying Mother do still seep into my head. For nearly five years I watched her waste away, deflated to skin and bones. Those images I'm sad to say, are most likely permanently seared into my brain. In the early days, I didn't want to close my eyes at night, because I couldn't bear to see those images. They still make me cry.
But if you could have seen my Mother in 1986, or for New Years in '89 - you would smile and laugh. In order for you to see that however, I have to celebrate the good memories I do have and share them, let them out, let them breathe in the world.
I have very few of my Mother's trinkets, and very few of her photographs, so it's hard for me to celebrate with tangible things. If you have trinkets, perhaps creating a shrine is right up your alley. But if you're like blogger Michigan Holly - and you do have a plethora of fabulous photographs - then a photoblog may be just for you.
Check out Holly's blog Diary of a Motherless Daughter. It's the most amazing way I've seen a Motherless Daughter celebrate her own Mother's memories.
Or you could give this a whirl - grab a group of your friends, head out to your Mom's favorite places and celebrate her there.
A few months ago, on my Mother's 51st birthday, my friend Kzam, in the middle of breakfast out, decided we were going to celebrate by hitting up the casino. So we did, but not before cruising all over Altadena in search of a liquor store that was open before 10 a.m. To my naive surprise, we found one!
The whole adventure hysterical. And we had a blast. I lost every penny I went with, and my friend hit on the slots. We cracked up the entire drive back. My Mother, without a doubt, would have a approved.
The home stretch is coming up! Look out for the last three verses to be published on Christmas Eve (I hope!).
-TL
7th Day of Christmas
You could do this: Hit something
But do this instead: Hit something really hard! But at your local batting cage or bowling alley
When it's been a tough day at work, or in life, and I need to rage against the machine, I hit up my local batting cage, plug up the iPod and have it.
For 15 to 20 minutes, I swing for the tree tops. I swing for deep right field. I swing to smash that flippin' ball across the universe, and as it flies away it takes with it all the crap of the bad day.
I suck at bowling, so you're just going to have to figure that one out for yourself ;p
8th Day of Christmas
You could do this: Freak out and spin your own wheels
But do this instead: Read one entire book from cover to cover
I will be the first to admit, I can't sit still to save my life. I talk fast, I move fast, I work fast. But sometimes when things get a bit too overwhelming, I find a good way to sort through it all is to focus on one thing at time.
Taking the time to read a book, cover to cover, is a bit like meditating. Singleminded, still - and probably not very easy to do at first crack.
Get comfortable then with a blanket and your favorite cup of coffee or tea (I love Chai!). You will enter another world (Motherless Daughters could so use a healthy escape once in awhile), and force yourself to pay attention to only one task at a time. If you're like me - aka Speed Racer - you can cheat a little and pick a book with only a couple hundred pages. You can graduate to a tome later.
9th Day of Christmas
You could do this: Hide away the memories
But do this instead: Celebrate the memories!
While it doesn't happen as much anymore, the images of my dying Mother do still seep into my head. For nearly five years I watched her waste away, deflated to skin and bones. Those images I'm sad to say, are most likely permanently seared into my brain. In the early days, I didn't want to close my eyes at night, because I couldn't bear to see those images. They still make me cry.
But if you could have seen my Mother in 1986, or for New Years in '89 - you would smile and laugh. In order for you to see that however, I have to celebrate the good memories I do have and share them, let them out, let them breathe in the world.
I have very few of my Mother's trinkets, and very few of her photographs, so it's hard for me to celebrate with tangible things. If you have trinkets, perhaps creating a shrine is right up your alley. But if you're like blogger Michigan Holly - and you do have a plethora of fabulous photographs - then a photoblog may be just for you.
Check out Holly's blog Diary of a Motherless Daughter. It's the most amazing way I've seen a Motherless Daughter celebrate her own Mother's memories.
Or you could give this a whirl - grab a group of your friends, head out to your Mom's favorite places and celebrate her there.
A few months ago, on my Mother's 51st birthday, my friend Kzam, in the middle of breakfast out, decided we were going to celebrate by hitting up the casino. So we did, but not before cruising all over Altadena in search of a liquor store that was open before 10 a.m. To my naive surprise, we found one!
The whole adventure hysterical. And we had a blast. I lost every penny I went with, and my friend hit on the slots. We cracked up the entire drive back. My Mother, without a doubt, would have a approved.
The home stretch is coming up! Look out for the last three verses to be published on Christmas Eve (I hope!).
-TL
Friday, December 22, 2006
Blog the Nineteenth
Two more!
And if you can't donate blood yourself, then recruit one of your friends (or even a few of them) and make an afternoon out of it!
Eat a good breakfast together, take the drive to the donation center together, hold her hand (or his hand) during the process, slap the "I Donated Blood" sticker on your foreheads and then go eat a yummy lunch!
I hate needles, so I may recruit a friend to just to hold my hand anyway ;p
-TL
On the
5th Day of Christmas
You could do this: Bemoan your miserable fate! - till even you get bored of hearing yourself
But do this instead: Be an Agent of Change for one day and take matters into your own hands
No matter how many times you've heard it, I'm gonna say it again here once more: VOLUNTEERING is one of the best things a human being can do for others, for the community, for the world and for their karma.
So many things may seem, and very well may be, out of the hands of a Motherless Daughter, but choosing to VOLUNTEER is one simple act that can - help put things in persepective, help get you active, help get you reconnecting with others, and help you see what Motherless Daughthers sometimes forget to see - that there is still life out there (and sometimes that life needs you).
Here are some suggestions to get your VOLUNTEER imagination fired up:
Local - help prepare meals for families living at a Domestic Violence Shelter
National - participate in a letter writing campagin to you state's Senator based around some issue signifacnt to you
Global: start a Christmas Clean Up Day - and pick up trash at park or a beach then... RECYCLE!
On the
6th Day of Christmas
You could do this: Ask, ask, ask for peace, for the pain to go away, to hit the lotto
But do this instead: Give, give, give blood
Motherless Daughters spend a lot of time in their lives asking. They ask their Gods, spiritual adviors, therapists, families, best friends, strangers. They ask for things they can't have anymore. They ask for things they get and then realize don't actually matter. They ask questions others can't answer.
So let's spend some time not asking, let's spend some time being okay with the answers we already have, and instead let's take that time to give.
Giving blood literally means you are helping to save someone's life. It seems to me, one of the best balancing acts of the universe that you can be a part of. And if you're hardcore enough, like my friend Kelley of Don't Know How Ya Do It, you can donate platelets as well.
I've just signed up to donate blood on December 26th! When will you donate? To find out where to donate in your 'hood check here - GiveLife.Org
And if you can't donate blood yourself, then recruit one of your friends (or even a few of them) and make an afternoon out of it!
Eat a good breakfast together, take the drive to the donation center together, hold her hand (or his hand) during the process, slap the "I Donated Blood" sticker on your foreheads and then go eat a yummy lunch!
I hate needles, so I may recruit a friend to just to hold my hand anyway ;p
-TL
Sunday, December 17, 2006
Blog the Eighteenth
Two more verses for you gluttons of punishment :)
On the 3rd Day of Christmas
On the 4th Day of Christmas
But do this instead: Eat out for breakfast, lunch AND dinner!
You could do this: Hide away from the world underneath all your blankets
But do this instead: Take those blankets out to the living room and watch a Favorite Movie Triple Feature - add some microwaveable butter (or kettle!) popcorn for that fine theater touch.
Triple feature recommendations:
Horror - The Shining, Cabin Fever, The Blob (original version please)
SciFi - Starship Troopers, Aliens, iRobot
Comedy - Shaun of the Dead, Dodgeball, Duck Soup (or any Marx Brothers film in existence)
Romance - Love Actually, French Kiss, Moulin Rouge
Action - Casino Royale, Braveheart, Gladiator
Fantasy - Harry Potter, Labyrinth, Mirrormask
Mix 'n' match for an afternoon of good cries, hearty laughs, ignited imagination and adrenaline rushes.
But do this instead: Take those blankets out to the living room and watch a Favorite Movie Triple Feature - add some microwaveable butter (or kettle!) popcorn for that fine theater touch.
Triple feature recommendations:
Horror - The Shining, Cabin Fever, The Blob (original version please)
SciFi - Starship Troopers, Aliens, iRobot
Comedy - Shaun of the Dead, Dodgeball, Duck Soup (or any Marx Brothers film in existence)
Romance - Love Actually, French Kiss, Moulin Rouge
Action - Casino Royale, Braveheart, Gladiator
Fantasy - Harry Potter, Labyrinth, Mirrormask
Mix 'n' match for an afternoon of good cries, hearty laughs, ignited imagination and adrenaline rushes.
You could do this: Not eat
But do this instead: Eat out for breakfast, lunch AND dinner!
Yes that means you will have to get up and get dressed. Yes you may even have to shower and put on some makeup. But you don't have to necessarily eat somewhere new. Tired and true Mickey D's works just fine. If you're going to go through all the trouble to live for a second though, you may as well try something different :)
If you live in LA, my IRL friend Fightin' Mad Mary, reviews may eateries in her blog - The Customer is Always Right
For ya'll outside of the City of Angels, try this website CitySearch. Type in your city name, click off what you're looking for (a yummy Thai perhaps?) and wahlah! A list of fabulous restaurants all in your backyard.
Stay tuned for more verses! How long is this damn song anyway ;p
-TL
Thursday, December 14, 2006
Blog the Seventeenth
Hello Motherless Daughters! And Happy Flippin' Holidays!
I wanted to start this post yesterday, for the official start of the 12 Days of Christmas, but I got busy and forgot. So here it is - a day late but just as good promise.
I could post to you guys about how difficult it could be around the holidays for us motherless ones. But all of you are already hip to that shit. All of the Motherless Daughters, in all of the world, already know this time of year sucks.
So for the 12 Days of Christmas this year, I've decided to do something a little different. Instead of expounding on the knowledge ya'll already know about Motherless Daughters and how well they do on Holidays, I'm gonna learn ya something maybe you don't know but really, really should. For those of us Motherless Daughters who also have the distinction of being fabulously solo, I think a lot of this info is mightily important.
We're gonna do two sections this time around since I missed one yesterday. Ready, set, read!
The 12 Days of Christmas - You Could do This But do This Instead Version (sung in the verse of absolutely no figgin' holiday song in existence, 'cause I can't sing and this doesn't rhyme anyway.)
On the
1st Day of Christmas
You could do this: Sulk
But do this instead: Take a few hours to do a Year End Portfolio Checkup
1. Check on your 401k - review retirement plan contributions
2. Check on your IRA accounts
3. Review your entire portfolio to see if it still meets your goals
4. Rebalance if necessary
5. Track your gains and losses since purchase date
6. Find ways to cut expenses
7. Make additional contributions
8. Review your company's benefit plans
On the
2nd Day of Christmas
You could do this: Cry your eyes out till you're sucking up your own snot
But do this instead: If you don't have a portfolio to checkup on - build one!
Retail discount invest brokers like Sharebuilder (love them!) allow you to buy individual stocks, exchange traded funds and index funds, for a very low commission (4 bucks a pop) and no minimums. If you're not stock market savvy, start with investing $10 a week (heck a month even, just start with something!) in an index fund that matches what benchmarks, like the S&P, are returning. That way you'll at least be making some money back on your hard earned dough.
Index Fund Super Crash Course from Wikipedia - Click and Learn Baby!
Check back in tomorrow...ish, for the next verse of this new holiday song!
-TL
I wanted to start this post yesterday, for the official start of the 12 Days of Christmas, but I got busy and forgot. So here it is - a day late but just as good promise.
I could post to you guys about how difficult it could be around the holidays for us motherless ones. But all of you are already hip to that shit. All of the Motherless Daughters, in all of the world, already know this time of year sucks.
So for the 12 Days of Christmas this year, I've decided to do something a little different. Instead of expounding on the knowledge ya'll already know about Motherless Daughters and how well they do on Holidays, I'm gonna learn ya something maybe you don't know but really, really should. For those of us Motherless Daughters who also have the distinction of being fabulously solo, I think a lot of this info is mightily important.
We're gonna do two sections this time around since I missed one yesterday. Ready, set, read!
The 12 Days of Christmas - You Could do This But do This Instead Version (sung in the verse of absolutely no figgin' holiday song in existence, 'cause I can't sing and this doesn't rhyme anyway.)
1st Day of Christmas
You could do this: Sulk
But do this instead: Take a few hours to do a Year End Portfolio Checkup
1. Check on your 401k - review retirement plan contributions
2. Check on your IRA accounts
3. Review your entire portfolio to see if it still meets your goals
4. Rebalance if necessary
5. Track your gains and losses since purchase date
6. Find ways to cut expenses
7. Make additional contributions
8. Review your company's benefit plans
2nd Day of Christmas
You could do this: Cry your eyes out till you're sucking up your own snot
But do this instead: If you don't have a portfolio to checkup on - build one!
Retail discount invest brokers like Sharebuilder (love them!) allow you to buy individual stocks, exchange traded funds and index funds, for a very low commission (4 bucks a pop) and no minimums. If you're not stock market savvy, start with investing $10 a week (heck a month even, just start with something!) in an index fund that matches what benchmarks, like the S&P, are returning. That way you'll at least be making some money back on your hard earned dough.
Index Fund Super Crash Course from Wikipedia - Click and Learn Baby!
Check back in tomorrow...ish, for the next verse of this new holiday song!
-TL
Sunday, November 26, 2006
Blog the Sixteenth Act the Last
There's nothing quite like being in the ocean, zipped up in a constricting wetsuit, and spinning around and around in tight, frightened circles to help you realize this probably isn't going to be the summer you dreamed about.
Working through one long held fear (planes are sooo not my friends) and discovering another (sharks are sooo not my friends either), lead to many days and nights of fielding terrible anxiety and battling major panic attacks. And I must say, from experience, having a panic attack in the open water is not a very good idea.
I always thought I was a brave person. I remember being younger and heading off into unknown adventures. Bounding out the apartment door early on a weekend morning to discover new things. To go exploring, as I called it. Nothing quite like getting lost in the massive acreage of a country farm, but one does what one can in New York City.
In these last few months however, since the planes and the sharks, the flying and the swimming - I have concluded something about myself I think I'd rather not have known.
I'm scared. I am really very freakin' afraid!
I am much more scared in life, much more scared than I thought I'd ever be, since my Mother's death. I am much more frightened to do things outside my protective circle - but with good reason I had convinced myself. When it all lands on you to take care of - your life, your safety, your survival - at the gloriously young and completely unprepared age of 18 - you really don't want to fuck it up. If I make big mistakes, if I get it really wrong, I concluded, there isn't anyone else to fall back on, or anyplace else to fall back to. Your security, your support, your home, your Mother are gone - so you'd better make it work and make it work right.
I'm thinking maybe that would have scared the bejebus out of anyone.
It should come as no surprise then, that I don't do well with things that are out of my control. Oceans and planes, rollercoasters, boyfriends, the freaking World Series - all much too much out of my hands. Did you know I bit all my fingernails off while watching the movie Open Water because I couldn't deal with not knowing what was going to happen? Did you know that my job is in production scheduling? My world. My order.
The summer, I've realized, had other plans.
The challenge to participate in a triathlon and raise money for children living with AIDS -
The recurring daydream about being stuck in a cave -
The strange visions about what to do with my Mother's ashes -
The return to my home place -
The freaking out in the ocean -
The not freaking out in the plane (both ways! woo hoo!) -
So many seemingly unrelated things and all culminated in an utterly fantastic family road trip, a moment with wild dolphins, a spectacular open water swim in the Pacific, and one recently initiated and accepted challenge - the challenge to not be so afraid.
I don't think I could ever be a "fly by the seat of my pants" kind of gal - the need to make sure I have security in life unabashedly comes first - it's too ingrained in me, that need to be secure. But I am thinking that perhaps the good spirits have paved the way for a future of adventure for me. And I get to use the last few months as proof to myself that being scared, but doing it anyway, can result in some pretty amazing things.
Fin.
-TL
Working through one long held fear (planes are sooo not my friends) and discovering another (sharks are sooo not my friends either), lead to many days and nights of fielding terrible anxiety and battling major panic attacks. And I must say, from experience, having a panic attack in the open water is not a very good idea.
I always thought I was a brave person. I remember being younger and heading off into unknown adventures. Bounding out the apartment door early on a weekend morning to discover new things. To go exploring, as I called it. Nothing quite like getting lost in the massive acreage of a country farm, but one does what one can in New York City.
In these last few months however, since the planes and the sharks, the flying and the swimming - I have concluded something about myself I think I'd rather not have known.
I'm scared. I am really very freakin' afraid!
I am much more scared in life, much more scared than I thought I'd ever be, since my Mother's death. I am much more frightened to do things outside my protective circle - but with good reason I had convinced myself. When it all lands on you to take care of - your life, your safety, your survival - at the gloriously young and completely unprepared age of 18 - you really don't want to fuck it up. If I make big mistakes, if I get it really wrong, I concluded, there isn't anyone else to fall back on, or anyplace else to fall back to. Your security, your support, your home, your Mother are gone - so you'd better make it work and make it work right.
I'm thinking maybe that would have scared the bejebus out of anyone.
It should come as no surprise then, that I don't do well with things that are out of my control. Oceans and planes, rollercoasters, boyfriends, the freaking World Series - all much too much out of my hands. Did you know I bit all my fingernails off while watching the movie Open Water because I couldn't deal with not knowing what was going to happen? Did you know that my job is in production scheduling? My world. My order.
The summer, I've realized, had other plans.
The challenge to participate in a triathlon and raise money for children living with AIDS -
The recurring daydream about being stuck in a cave -
The strange visions about what to do with my Mother's ashes -
The return to my home place -
The freaking out in the ocean -
The not freaking out in the plane (both ways! woo hoo!) -
So many seemingly unrelated things and all culminated in an utterly fantastic family road trip, a moment with wild dolphins, a spectacular open water swim in the Pacific, and one recently initiated and accepted challenge - the challenge to not be so afraid.
I don't think I could ever be a "fly by the seat of my pants" kind of gal - the need to make sure I have security in life unabashedly comes first - it's too ingrained in me, that need to be secure. But I am thinking that perhaps the good spirits have paved the way for a future of adventure for me. And I get to use the last few months as proof to myself that being scared, but doing it anyway, can result in some pretty amazing things.
Fin.
-TL
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Photo Post #1 - Favorite Halloween Photo
I don't know who this person is, but I love them. Photo snapped at the West Hollywood Halloween Carnivale in Los Angeles.I posted this picture, and didn't think to leave any writings behind. But one commentor asked if the wings were itty bitty fairy wings - which would make anyone stop and ask... uhhhh what's up with that demon dude - itty bitty fairy wings?
But in fact those aren't itty bitty fairy wings at all - they are a set of tortured and broken wings.
The back of the costume looked as if the skin had melted like wax, dripping and bubbling down, and the wings appeared to have been savagely ripped off - and just stumps were left. I got the feeling that someone, or something, or some set of terrible, terrible circusmtances - took hold of his wings with sharp claws, with awful deadly talons. They gripped the feathers with a harsh and heartless cruetly, and then... tore them off. Could have been feather by feather, could have been all at once.
I love this costume, this creature, because sometimes, lots of times, I feel like it looks. Sometimes I feel that savagely ravaged on the inside, torn apart, torn asunder, and still asked to walk along displaying what I have, the tattered remains of what I am left with. It was a very brutal looking costume from the back, and a scary one from the front (which is what ya'll can see). But to me it was beautiful. A tortured misery still walking amongst us. Ahhh yes... definitely a tortured misery.
-TL
Friday, October 27, 2006
Blog the Sixteenth Act II
I was wrong.
Back in July I wrote to you all about a recurring day dream I had been having.
In a nutshell, the daydream went as such: TL in the corridor of a dark cave, trying to break free of thick and sticky cobwebs that grabbed at her face and hands and wouldn't give her freedom.
It seemed particularly obvious that this daydream was about trying to break free, trying to get out, trying to leave behind all the bad stuff.
But it wasn't.
This daydream was about not letting myself runaway from the past. What this daydream was trying to tell me, was that it was time for me to face all the crap (or at least some of the crap - baby steps ya know) I had left behind, or more honestly, that I had run away from - eleven years ago.
It was time to face one of the biggest storms in my life.
It was time to face all that, and the cobwebs wouldn't let me go until that job was done. I wouldn't be allowed to runaway anymore and blame something else. I would be forced to stay, to turn around and look at what was at the original place, to look backward with my new eyes. To turn around and look at that scary place. Look at that place where I had come from.
It was no use anymore... denying. My insides were telling me. It's not that you're afraid to fly or that you have "issues" with your family. It's not that you don't have a place to stay, or not enough money this time around. It's not that you just don't have enough vacation time or couldn't possibly take another day off because you're just so busy. It's not any of that that makes you not want to go back to the city.
It's not any of that that makes you say you hate the city with such venom, with such gut fire. Say you hate to fly. Say you hate taking the time or you don't want to deal with your family. Lie, lie, lie...
What it is is that your heart was broken in that place. What it is is that your life was ended in that place. Your Mother died in that town. She was eaten by The City.
For eleven years, my home, the place I had grown up in, the place I had had everything in, was this big, black, bleak hole that had taken my Mother's life. It stole the innocent look of my childhood envisioned future. It had taken everything. And I just... I just didn't want to go back there.
I made up a lot of excuses, gave myself a fear of flying complex (validated by one bad flight I had 14 years ago), missed out on seeing my family, my best friend's kids, my godchildren growing up - all because I could hardly bear to spend any amount of time in the place I should call home. But home is not supposed to eat Moms. Home is not supposed to have all these bad memories...
I live 3,000 miles away from New York because of this. This was as far as I could get without swimming, and as much as I could afford with $350 in my pocket and five bags of hope on the train. Please, I kept thinking while I was on my way across the vast lands of this country, please let it better in this new place.
-TL
Back in July I wrote to you all about a recurring day dream I had been having.
In a nutshell, the daydream went as such: TL in the corridor of a dark cave, trying to break free of thick and sticky cobwebs that grabbed at her face and hands and wouldn't give her freedom.
It seemed particularly obvious that this daydream was about trying to break free, trying to get out, trying to leave behind all the bad stuff.
But it wasn't.
This daydream was about not letting myself runaway from the past. What this daydream was trying to tell me, was that it was time for me to face all the crap (or at least some of the crap - baby steps ya know) I had left behind, or more honestly, that I had run away from - eleven years ago.
It was time to face one of the biggest storms in my life.
It was time to face all that, and the cobwebs wouldn't let me go until that job was done. I wouldn't be allowed to runaway anymore and blame something else. I would be forced to stay, to turn around and look at what was at the original place, to look backward with my new eyes. To turn around and look at that scary place. Look at that place where I had come from.
It was no use anymore... denying. My insides were telling me. It's not that you're afraid to fly or that you have "issues" with your family. It's not that you don't have a place to stay, or not enough money this time around. It's not that you just don't have enough vacation time or couldn't possibly take another day off because you're just so busy. It's not any of that that makes you not want to go back to the city.
It's not any of that that makes you say you hate the city with such venom, with such gut fire. Say you hate to fly. Say you hate taking the time or you don't want to deal with your family. Lie, lie, lie...
What it is is that your heart was broken in that place. What it is is that your life was ended in that place. Your Mother died in that town. She was eaten by The City.
For eleven years, my home, the place I had grown up in, the place I had had everything in, was this big, black, bleak hole that had taken my Mother's life. It stole the innocent look of my childhood envisioned future. It had taken everything. And I just... I just didn't want to go back there.
I made up a lot of excuses, gave myself a fear of flying complex (validated by one bad flight I had 14 years ago), missed out on seeing my family, my best friend's kids, my godchildren growing up - all because I could hardly bear to spend any amount of time in the place I should call home. But home is not supposed to eat Moms. Home is not supposed to have all these bad memories...
I live 3,000 miles away from New York because of this. This was as far as I could get without swimming, and as much as I could afford with $350 in my pocket and five bags of hope on the train. Please, I kept thinking while I was on my way across the vast lands of this country, please let it better in this new place.
-TL
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