small things...

Crazy, Sexy Cancer

Last night I watched the film, “Crazy, Sexy Cancer” about a woman's struggle with her cancer diagnosis.  Kris Carr interviews 4 other women battling different kinds of cancer, each with their own awe-inspiring story.  After a tough week for me (energy-wise and emotionally) this film really spoke some words I was needing to hear.  I do not have cancer, but cancer is a part of my life story.  I do not want to have cancer, but if that ends up being part of my life story as well, I want to face it with the courage of these women, with the courage of each of my parents and with the courage my my close friend Chad.

But like they say in the film, cancer is a metaphor for life.  Life becomes 'before' and 'after' cancer.  It's all about losses and gains.  With the diagnosis there is the losses - of health, of expectations, or immortality.  And after some time comes the gains - of perspective, of new plans/expectations, of  a new appreciation for time.  This is relative of course, not everyone follows these same paths.  I do no have cancer, but cancer has changed my life 3 times over.  I think you learn many of the same lessons through grief or other losses.

I was inspired particularly by Kris Carr and her dedication to fighting her illness and increasing her health; and of her pursuit of life, adventure, love and for a life well spent.  Don't we all want these things?  I do. 

What are we waiting for? Cancer?

And I think I need to really get started.  Check back here for further developments to what should now be known as "my kick-ass life"

blogshare

I've been following this blog: http://3191.visualblogging.com/ since it's inception and thought maybe I would share it with you all.  If you like my photos, you will love theirs. enjoy.

Thanks, Karma.

I was on the receiving end of some karmic forces over the weekend...the lame kind.  You know, the I've-been-putting-bad-mojo-out-into-the-universe kind of karma

There are a few of you who are aware that I became a bit of a speed demon after buying my newish car (anything would have been faster then good ol' Sammy the Subaru, god rest his engine).  With my new speed came, I'm ashamed to admit it, a bit of road attitude.  I don't get the rage like some folks, but i do get a bit of road superiority.  People do dumb things on the road - I turn my nose up at them.  I've given a few dirty looks, I admit it.  I've shaken my finger at the 3rd car to turn left after the light turned red - what good has it done?  Not a bit.  But as a road snob, what did I care?  I just wanted to feel superior.  So this is how I've been acting out in the world.

But this weekend I was tired.  Bone tired.  A-little-worried-about-how-tired-I-was tired.  I had to do a litle driving just to accomplish my normal weekend errands and out there on the road I ran into karma.  I got dirty looks, I was honked at, someone yelled at me and I was flipped the bird.  Someone even shook their head at me!?!  I've done the very same thing.  I wasn't doing anything beyond reproach out on the road, just driving a little slower and was a little slower to react to the green lights or my turn at the stop sign.  One time I started to pull into what I thought was a deserted intersection only to stop abruptly when a man on a bike came into my view.  He glared at me the entire time he biked past me.  My first thought was, "You're supposed to stop at the stop sign, a*hole" But my second thought was, "I've totally given that same glare when I was the girl on the bike."

So what I learned is that when you are an a*hole, so is everybody else.  Thanks, Karma, for the vaulable life lesson.

But before my complete attitude readjustment, I need a good long and serious nap. 

M stands for magic

On Tuesday night I received a gift brought to me by a very special delivery man.  I haven't decided if I will make proper use of this gift or keep it safe from harm as I'm told it's numbers are few in existence.  But seeing as how I don't like having things that can't be used...I think you will see me wearing this:

This is a t-shrt from the last movie worn by or gifted to the visual FX crew (I don't think anybody wore this one - no funky smells). And the M in ILM stands for "magic" and that's a true story.

Thank you, Tau.  For getting me out on a Tuesday night to drink beer in the heat and for giving me a gift that was just right.

Now seriously, if I had a magic wand I'd totally be ruling this place. 

F. U. Time travel

                                       

Came home yesterday from my weekend up North to Port Washington, Wi.  For as short a trip as it was - it felt like a vacation.  The house sat on a bluff with an 80 step staircase down to a private beach.  It was rainy all day Saturday and Sunday, but Friday was gorgeous.  Warm and sunny.  The sky was filled with dragonflies...so strange.  Anyone know why that might have been?  They were everywhere flying overhead.  Emmett is especially cuddly these days and the perfect fit on my hip and on my lap.  I can see how this might get tiresome for the momma's who are with their babies all day long, but it is GREAT for me.  Some more peeks at the weekend:

                                        

::Getting ready for winter

                                        

::The house was on a bluff with a private beach...80 steps down these stairs...and of course 80 steps back up as well.

                                        

:: We have become bonafide beach bums this summer, spending time on beaches in 3 of 4 states surrounding Lake Michigan...now we just need to make it up to the UP and the Indiana Dunes!

Friday marked 2 months since mom died.  It's a strange feeling - at once completely unbelievable and entirely real.  The passage of time feels so unfair sometimes.  I just want to yell out, "JUST WAIT A MINUTE! please..."  There is healing with the passage of time, but what is unfair is that you are not allowed to go back and do it over once the healing has happened.  (I don't know if Liz T. reads this blog, if so she may remember what this next bit is about) Liz and I spent the night  a few summers ago in the midst of a strange and hilarious conversation that ended (or began) with my exclaiming (with clenched fist of course) "Fuck YOU, time travel!"  This sentiment feels right to me tonight.

In other news of the weekend...I went to a lovely wedding of my blissfully happy friend John and his new bride Holly.  Good times were had by all and I was honored to be there.  And now they are in St. Lucia... and you and I are not.  Dang.

Off to Wisco!

I'm heading to Wisconsin for a weekend of water, woods and weddings.  Megan, Emmett and I are heading up to a cabin on Lake Michigan today for the weekend.  Terry joins us tomorrow and then I head off to Sheboygan for Johnny M.'s wedding, back to the cabin and then on to Milwaukee on Sunday for lunch with motherearth gal herself, Annie R.

Have a great weekend!  I'll return on Monday with photos and stories to share.

Sorry Texas.

Apparently, I'm inching towards you.

http://www.forbes.com/business/feeds/afx/2007/08/15/afx4023131.html

This happened once before:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hurricane_Erin_%281995%29

I'm not proud.

My escape plan

On Friday night I went out with my friend Jeremy (still such a good guy/great friend/wonderful human being).  Jeremy was my prom date long, long ago.  We went home early Friday night, much like we did from prom, not because one of us was grounded this time, but because 11pm and 2 beers is the magic combination for sleepytime for your friend Erin.  While we were still there, however, we began a conversation about the neighborhoods we live in.  Jeremy loves his house and likes his neighborhood, but is unsure whether it is as safe a neighborhood as he would like for his wife/kids.  I live in a part of Evanston that really feels like a small town.  I told him that one of the things I like best about where I live is that I can go for a run/walk at 6:30am and not really feel worried about my safety.

This morning, however, I realized that while I feel safe, I continue to concoct escape plans.  You know what I'm saying, the plan for just-in-case.  Most of my girlfriends have such escape plans (right, ladies?)  I'm guessing the guys do to.  For instance, I have an escape plan for if a robber breaks into my apartment; one for if I'm ever carjacked; one for every hotel room I've stayed in alone; bad dates, fires, tornados; feeling like I might vomit, faint or go blind on the "el".  I realize the unlikelyhood of these events, but these are sometimes the things I think about when I'm alone in a place.  One of the secrets to my own anxiety management is to answer the "what if" questions that trigger most of my anxiety.  "What ifs" will drive you mad.  Answering the "what ifs" gives you something to do.

So back to this morning...I'd stopped by the market on my way home from my morning walk to pick up an avocado so that I could make this for lunch today.  (I would share a photo of my own, but my camera is broken! boo.)

On my way home I wondered what I would do if someone jumped out from behind that big tree up ahead and tried to grab me??!?  I decided that I could swing the bag that carried my avocado and hit that awful person in the head, stunning them just enough to give me time to start running and yelling. 

And then I wondered...would someone still eat an avocado they had just used as a weapon?  I weighed this question carefully and decided, that yes, yes I would still eat that avocado because it was my "avocado of triumph!"

That's actually what i thought.  My brain is super awesome in the morning.  And my escape plans?  Foolproof.  And that salad?  Totally tasty. 

The Road to Somewhere

Lately I've been reading On The Road, by Jack Kerouac.  Having lived in Boulder for 7plus years, it's odd that I never read it before now.  Boulder being the home of many an aspiring beat poet, the Naropa Institute was a sometime haunt for Alan Ginsburg; it was also the home to the Beat Bookshop, whose electricity bills I shared one summer when I rented the corner of this girls living room in a tiny apartment on the backside of said shop.  I had ample opportunity, see, but somehow it was a no go.

It's also got me thinking of the road trip I took several years ago.  (Sarah - it was the summer you met Lance...2000?)  If so, it was the summer of the 2nd anniversary of my dad's death and I was still scrambling - trying to figure out what direction I was headed.  I planned this road trip as a means to that end.  I envisioned epiphanies.  I got homeick.  I called my mom crying from a park in Nyack, NY (once home to the great American painter Edward Hopper and my friend Erica).  I'm sure I worried her and I'm sure she told me that it would be okay for me to come home.  I wish I could remember what all she might have said.  But I know that I stayed and that I kept driving.

I'm not a really good planner.  I don't know if this is common knowledge or not, but it's true.  I got to Nyack and knew nothing about the place and had no idea of where I would stay or what I would do while there.  This type of traveling suited me well in Europe where I'd found my travel soulmate in Alison.  Not unlike Sal and his friends in the book, we decided near daily where we would go next, visiting towns that sounded appealing, seeing none of the important sites in favor of wandering around trying to get lost.  We taught cute Canadian boys how to play quarters in Salzburg; we dyed our hair in Florence (sort of - I think there was some last minute chickening out on both our parts, but I do remember each swearing we could totally tell the difference); we stayed for all of 30 minutes in Paris before hopping back on a train with a short stop in N.Spain and then on down to Southern Portugal where we spent the rest of our trip on the beach.  I thought this was me as a traveler...aimless and spontaneous.  I had applied this same level of planning to this road trip but the framework did not fit.

I had gone with Sarah to see a tarot card reader a few months before I'd set out on the road.  She told me not to bother with the trip at all and to move out and get my own apartment.  Looking back I think the advice really was, "just move on with your life. This trip is just a detour...you'll see."

I tell stories from this road trip often loaded with regret.  All of the adventures I might have had, had I not been so lonely.  However difficult that trip was, I now can see that it was an adventure and that it took courage to embark on a cross-country road trip alone.  Sometimes it's hard to look back with clear eyes.  I'm doing so now, with love and compassion to the girl I was then.  However misguided and alone I might have been, I was also brave.  And that is something I am proud to now see.

So there - 7 years in the making - lesson finally learned.