NY Journal # 16

JOURNAL ENTRY
Saturday, October 30, 2004
Ahhhh, Irvine. what to say, what to say? nothing really. about Irvine at least. My mom is perpetually a few words short of full sentences and gets frustrated by it. Over and over. My dad is doing ... far more than i thought him capable of, far more than i'd think anyone capable of in fact. It's pretty amazing. I dont think i ever would have thought of him as a caregiver. Very nice to see. Also nice to see is demonstrative love. Outward caring. Visible compassion. Me? I seem to be pretending that nothing is all that wrong. Or that it's temporary. or a minor illness. or... i dont know. more later.


Friday, October 29, 2004
I dont want to talk about it.... which is maybe why I should.

The only constant in the universe is that everyone, everything... dies. The great stage mananger of the universe seems to be in the process of directing my mom off stage. Exit... stage left. No, not now... wait for it... wait.... on my cue........ keep holding.....

Glioblastoma Multiform, grade IV brain cancer, the least survivable cancer, cells multiplying out of control. cells. this is all about cells. sure on some level it's all about atoms but here, with cancer, it's all about cells. you cant see cells. how often are life's problems determined by things so small you cant see? so small. death isn't small.

A year and a half ago, my parents visited New York. We walked and walked and walked all over the city on a typical out-of-towners whirlwind tour of NY. We saw everything, ate pizza, took pictures. took pictures in Central Park. the Ramble.
1 month later, sitting in the small room at home, computer chair creaking as I rocked slightly, the feel of my cell phone headset wire taut from ear to pinched fingers as I held it, I listened to the description of the "eye stroke" my mom had.
Eye stroke?
4 days later. more tests.
Not a stroke. no.
3 days later. more tests.
no. please no.
crying. in the shower.
again, so vivid a memory.
the first release.
first of many.
many firsts.
each bad news received is a first.
2 weeks later.
everyone present.
the hospital, the waiting room.
surgery.
then hope.
medication. then hope.
wait. repeat.
then wait.
more
hope.
repeat.
where did hope go?
wait.
still there, we all say loudly.
a stranger lurks in the corner.
then the call.
the recent call.
so small.
the phone.
the voice.
no longer
operable.
treatment ceased.
the stranger stepping forward.
no. but what if,
or....
the strangers hand on my shoulder..
but.. all those survival stories..
c'mon,
..you cant....
but you have.
given up.
but why.
this stranger,
this truth or acceptance or reality,
take your pick..
he doesn't need to say why.

(pardon the prose.... i haven't written a poem since... high school? not sure why i just did, but it let me both focus on and be distracted by what's going on)

AND SOOoooo.........I dont want to talk about it. Although I just did. I dont want condolences. though i've already received them... I dont want anything from anyone who 'wouldn't' if my situation were happy roses and rainbows. I have no time or energy for it. The falseness of un-fair-weather help just magnifies it's own falseness. These mental pathways that I hardly ever use: depression, anger, neediness, panic - are on fire.. So active are my synapses firings, i fear i'll get taken down in the battlefield crossfire. Every three minutes or so I have to consciously un-tense my back muscles. Every 10 to 15 minutes, I snap out of a cross eyed stare at my computer screen. Every 30 mins to an hour, waves of panic, some small, some massive, crash over me. Every few hours, I am fine, and able to cope completely. And then not. AND Every Damn Day for 17 months, my mom has been dying. And then not. And then, and then.....I fly out West this afternoon...


Wednesday, October 27, 2004

BLOG ENTRY
FOR those of you that dont know about craigslist.com, it's an online (really?) bulletin board where people can: buy stuff, sell stuff, find apartments for sale/rent, list apts for sale/rent, meet guys, meet girls, meet others. you can trade stuff, offer stuff for free, you can rant and make wildly ridiculous claims to the gods of cyberspace.AND OhMyGoodGod - i seriously think the funniest people in the world have access to and use craigslist to purge themselves of pent up comedy, lest they explode:
http://newyork.craigslist.org/about/best/sdo/41872611.html
----- and that The Best of Craigslist is better reading than... well... everything: http://newyork.craigslist.org/about/best/
this one's awesome too:http://newyork.craigslist.org/about/best/por/41661987.html
oh and this one:http://newyork.craigslist.org/about/best/nyc/40254801.html
OH and the absolute best being: http://newyork.craigslist.org/about/best/nyc/40606332.html


Tuesday, October 26, 2004

JOURNAL / BLOG ENTRY
Why does it always take someone else saying something to get me to realize it's something I already believe myself..? How is it possible I can know and believe something but still actively try to produce results opposite to that end? Over and Over, I do this. what am I talking about? I'm not sure, but I think it involved pursuing the wrong girl. oh, and enjoying kissing and intimacy. A lot. and the conflict those two things will invariably create. for me at least. I guess I should start off with saying that I met a girl. She is quite awesome in so many ways: SuperIntelligent, SuperWitty, (which means) SuperFunny, she loves football, she reads ravenously, she loves bad tv, and I'm sure a dozen other things I could cite if I felt like it. There were, however, so many red flags that went from waving in front of my face to swatting furiously at me to trying to take my head off. And somehow, as always, i chose to Not see them... chose to believe they wouldn't matter. I thought that maybe ... given time or understanding, they wouldn't bother me or would go away. The old "Am I being too picky? Is anybody really perfect for anyone?" The flip side of that slippery slope is the futility of entering into, or staying in a relationship with the expectation that a person could change fundamental things about themselves... and that it would make everything ok. All of that aside.... here's a question: when did I become an intimacy whore? I mean, really. wait, Am I really one? I dont even.. objectively.. know! have I always been touchy-feely? is it just that it was something new that made me want to be so close to her? Seriously - Just this little recent taste of it made me realize I am more intimacy bound than I ever could have thought I was. touching hands, kissing, gentle touches... an arm around a back even... has been enough to pump adreneline and bring that heightened reality feeling we all..... that i thought we all craved. and yet, she doesn't. says she never has. i dont..... i just .... i dont understand. I knew, and know, that it wouldn't work... or that it shouldn't work. And yet, some part of me still wanted to pursue it. is it just the kissing and intimacy? seriously, i think it might be.... i miss dating and/or having-a-girlfriend and/or being-loved.... that part is not abnormal. maybe I'm just suprised by how Much i missed it. why am i typing this? because i'm pained by this situation. I admit it. frustrated. Stupid circumstance. I find what I think may be a perfect girl & then she turns out to not be perfect. And YES I want perfect (for me) so Dont Even Say It. And dont say "get back out there! date a bunch of girls!" Yeah, like I hadn't thought of doing that, Thanks...! I realized ... no, i admited to myself today, that the problem is that I am shy, and a chickenshit when it comes to starting conversations with girls. with strangers, I mean. i stayed out of the dating game too long. having a girlfriend all through college didn't help the ol' dating skills either. Could this recent nymph have just been any-ol'-girl to produce my current angsty state? Maybe, I dont know. Maybe any girl as smart, witty and attractive could have me in this much flux. I never realized how much I craved 'smart' and 'witty'. There is Absolutely Nothing sexier to me. It gives me goosebumps to be around single, smart girls with a quick wit. Attractive is nice and all but when the lights are out, attractive doesn't make you think or make you laugh.SOoooooooo... We're going the friends route. Which I'm really happy about now 'cause.. well... she's way cool. just not for dating. different peas in the same peapod field. (huh? ok, how'bout this instead) She's a bright burning candle and I'm an environmentally-friendly 65 watt soft-lite halogen bulb. And Yes, I'm girl crazy and Yes I think too much and Yes I need to get out there and Yes I really really think too much and Yes I need to play it cool and Yes a lot of things.I just miss ... so many things. ....about so many things.


Friday, October 22, 2004

BLOG ENTRY
Steve McCroskey : And I can sum it all up in just one word: courage, dedication, daring, pride, pluck, spirit, grit, mettle, and G-U-T-S, *guts*. Why, Ted Striker's got more guts in his little finger than most of us have in our large intestine, including the colon!

Steve McCroskey : Jacobs, I want to know absolutely everything that's happened up till now. Jacobs : Well, let's see. First the earth cooled. And then the dinosaurs came, but they got too big and fat, so they all died and they turned into oil. And then the Arabs came and they bought Mercedes Benzes. And Prince Charles started wearing all of Lady Di's clothes. I couldn't believe it.

Pilot: And that's when we lost Bill.
Prosecutor : Over Macho Grande?
Pilot: No. I don't think I'll ever get over Macho Grande.

Boy: Can I ask you a question?
Striker : What is it?
Boy: It's an interrogative form of sentence, used to test knowledge. But that's not important right now.

and .. if this isn't the best song in the universe, you're wrong, 'cause it is:
http://home.graffiti.net/maxsommers:graffiti.net/BnS_IF.mp3
Belle and Sebastian - If She Wants Me