Changing through loving memory

My Grandfather died at 6pm on August 3rd. At 3 We were told over the phone he was dying. We got to the hospital at 4. I was holding his wrist along with his entire family holding him as he flickered away. It was cancer, he never told anyone. It was a shock to all of our systems. Everyone is still in agreement that we expected him to live so much longer.

In the days that followed his death I placed a picture of him as a child on my bed then next to it one of his high school graduation, then his wedding photo, one of he and I when I was 2 then, one of my own graduation, lastly the image a had of his death bed. The common thread was in each photo his bright smile was beaming with pride and his eyes were full of joy. Then I thought, not too eloquently, "my God, this is one man's life." I thought "this is it. It's what you make of it."

With this realization my life broke in half. One half of my life was thrown forward as I watched the old me fall and drift out into oblivion. My mind told me to catch it before I lost it but my heart told me to let go. The people that I thought I mattered to me most were suddenly no where to be found and new people began to step into their place and still do such. It didn't bother me though; this happened when my Grandmother died as well. The only real difference is that when she passed I was lucky enough to have been in school where there was a plethora of people in one single environment. Now I have to force myself to go out into the world and seek the good experiences and good people for myself by myself. A tough tough thing to do for someone with an avoidant personality.

I have always been queen of "I was here first but you go ahead." I realize that I only take my fair share and that that share usually consists of an average slice. Nearly all of the time I know I deserve more and I know I deserve better than what I am left with. I don't know where I got that from but I can no longer stand this part of my personality. All I know is looking into my Grandfather's eyes (the brown had faded into navy from all the pain and drugs he was on) he recognized me. The pride that he held for me all his life was still there and he tried to lift himself up to hug me. Unfortunately he was wracked with too much pain to do so. I still feel in awe that this man loved me that much when I don't even think I love myself that much yet. And yes, I do think there is something wrong with that last sentence. I didn't recognize myself reflected in his eyes. I am forever proud of my Grandfather and grateful to him and proud to be his Granddaughter. I know now my dedication will be to capture once and for all, all of the potential and love he saw in me.

RIP

So I don't give a fuck what anyone thinks I am actually crushed that Michael Jackson died. I was in shock when I found out and last night I was crying and today I went to the Apollo and signed the floor and cried again. I just was watching Black or white and seeing Macauly Culkin so young made me realize that I was two years younger than him when that video came out and I was a huge fan then. Anyone who knew me as a kid knew how I was obsessed with Michael when I was a child and it never really changed (Don't make me get out the pictures! lol) I was such a lonely little girl and before I discovered rock all I had that gave me solace was my Michael Jackson tapes and recorded of the tv videos for quite awhile...I remember reading his lyric books that come with the CD's later and feeling the power that he had with words especially about loneliness and not fitting in...It's no wonder why I feel like I lost a childhood friend... I have never hidden the fact that I was a fan of his and I am not ashamed to admit that I am devastated that he is gone...

Live to win..

Back in the day in SD there used to be a kick ass rock station that I listened to. Every morning it would be Black Sabbath, Guns and Roses, old Metallica, Tool, old Korn, Deftones, Nine inch nails and such. I loved listening to the station so much, the only CD's I ever bought were my grunge (the grunge/punk station was slowly being taken over by the stupid no/so cal "rock" movement of the mid 90's; Blink is POP asshole Cantori! you old fucker) and moody fiona apple cd's. Shoot forward to now, the station got sold out and went pussy so I'm realizing I have to buy all those albums, I always figured I'd have the radio, I finally got a Motorhead CD in the mail, I had forgotten how much this shit runs through my veins. Listening to these bands again after all these years it's like drinking apple cider by a fire back home. These "turn that shit down" albums take me back and make me feel complete again. It's strange when you neglect a part of your life for so long and then you say what the hell I'll go back, you realize just how much you missed it....End of Story.

New Year, Real World addict.

HAPPY NEW YEAR Y'ALL!
Well it took them like 20 years but Real World has finally cast a Transgender roommate named Kaitlin and I love her. I've been watching that show since I was in Junior high (excluding last year, which sucked, you should never let bored teenagers cast anything) and I am stoked to see her there. There have been so many LGB people on that show, Pablo, Danny, Genesis were some of my favorites and I am so excited to see her on there, I love that younger generations will watch her experience Brooklyn and the way others will see her. I can see her totally helping the views of our youth for the better like the other roommates before her.
Much Love

My first man...

The first time I ever got that funny sexy feeling in my body I can remember, I was like maybe 8 years old and I saw Labyrinth on tape. The first time David Bowie appeared onscreen I was utterly fascinated, He had me at hello and then when the dance magic number came on I was hooked, If what I had heard about sex was right than this guy was it (this should have sent a clue to my parents that I was never gonna ever, ever, ever bring a normal guy home, nor was I gonna be normal myself). I wanted to live in the ballroom scene with him forever, The masquerade was my favorite and I never understood why the girl never wanted to stay with him forever. I guess that's why I haven't been married yet, lol. Jareth fucked me up for life, I'm still waiting around for my Goblin King.



I actually watched Labyrinth last night and twenty years later it is still friggin awesome, (yes I still have the hots for David Bowie). I'm getting in touch with my inner muppet lover and normally when a legend dies, (ie. Paul Newman, RIP) I think he really gave us all he could and he was done with this world, but Jim Henson is one artist that I truly feel was taken away from us too early, I would have loved to see more of his work. I love the Darker muppet stuff.

P.S
Natalie Dee's comic today is super cute! I thought I'd share:


nataliedee.com

How Come I Don't Climb Trees Anymore?

I've already mentioned that I am using the book: The Artist's Way by Julie Cameron. One of the tasks she gives is to write down things you enjoyed as a childhood. I like doing this because you don't know until you've thought about it what you enjoyed so long ago and what it means now. Things that you used to like you wonder "wow, why did I stop doing that" and "oh, yeah that must explain why ___". I thought I'd post some here, you should do your own.
Things I liked as a Child:
Coloring books
Writing stories
Flowers
Reading
Playing with Dolls
SInging
Disneyland
Jumping Rope
Climbing on things
Libraries
Beaches
Ice Cream Cones
Cookies
Taping things I liked to my bedroom walls
The Wizard of Oz

She is an American Girl

I took a trip to the American Girl Store on 49th the other day. I'm still dying to own one of those. Seeing all of those dolls drew these feelings that I haven't felt since I was a little girl. As a child I used to play with dolls religiously. It was my absolute favorite thing to do sometimes with my best friend sometimes alone. I think that is where I dreamed up some of my stories. I remember thinking that by acting I would be a grown-up doll I guess. Putting on costumes and saying someone else's words. I would get to live a different life besides my own and see how other people behaved. 

In that store looking at those blank little faces behind the glass I remembered my Grandmother and how she kept some really cool dolls behind glass cases and when she would leave me alone in her house, I would sneak into her drawer and get the antique key and open the case, It was very "Indian in the cupboard." 

It's strange what time and trauma pushes back in your memory and how the slightest most obscure thing can rip it right back into focus again. As children we are taught to grow up. Often I remember wanting and wishing I was older, I wonder now if I had enough time just being a kid. I wonder if parents of young children sometimes have that moment of discovery through their children. Maybe that will be my new goal, to start seeing things more through the wide eyed optimistic mind that I had as a child and not the cynical, sarcastic, enlightened mind I have now as an adult. How could I possible be a Mother one day when I can't even be a kid?