Funky Dream, Lame Poetry

If you haven't seen the movie Love and Sex, I suggest you watch it. ASAP! It protrays a realistic relationship, and precisely the one I would welcome into my life with open arms. The leading man, Adam, is played by Jon Favreau. Yum.

Last night, I dreamt that I wandered around knocking on the doors of all of my past lovers, in search of Jon Favreau. I would stand on their oh-so-familiar doorstep, and once they answered, I was surprised to find my old flame instead of Jon Favreau. In fact, I remember saying to each one of them, "You are not Jon Favreau." Then, I would scurry if the residence of another old flame, and enjoy the same confusion.

I popped out some incredibly lame poetry regarding this perplexing vision; searching for that elusive, archetypical soulmate.

Are you ready for this? Heh.

I searched for you all last night
In and out, dark to light
Frustration builds- I'd like to know
Just where is my Jon Favreau?

Studying faces I lived to love
Each one after, a step above
Recalling the reason I had to go
"You are not my Jon Favreau"

Taking those hits for 'the team'
Did little for my self-esteem
Hating each for every blow
There is no fucking Jon Favreau!

Took my time and licked my wounds
Sunny, happy afternoons
My heart no longer to and fro
I just don't need a Jon Favreau.

Since I Am Going To Live.....

..Or so, we think for the moment, I realized I have a great deal to say not only to both of my adoring fans, but to those that will never read this. Among other things, in classic Madman style, I shall compose the occasional letter of apparantly unneeded closure. Cool, heh. Enjoy the voyeuristic appeal.

Good news, Bad News

...And it's all too often the same thing. The docs at BJC do not belive that I am riddled with Cushing's. Woohoo and Damn. I am grateful that I am not burdened with the diagnosis, yet now I am left without answers and unsatisfied. What on earth do I have? What is wrong with me? Where has my vivacious self gone?

Brace Yourself...

I am less than a day away from my first round at BJC. I am delighted and fearful all at the same time. I am not fearful of the Cushing's, rather this tetative diagnosis has created a bit of a hypochondriac from my former self. I now occasionally shiver at the idea that I have something much worse. Yesterday, I felt great. I had more energy than I have had in a month. I woke up, and conversed with a dear friend, followed by cleaning my space almost to my approval...I returned to my mother's abode where I stripped down to a skimpy tank and skirt, reading Mama Gena in the sun. I tired after an hour, and ran the most luxurious bath I have had in years. Complete with flower petals!

I ended up at The Grind many hours later, caught in a whirlwind of conversation with my brother and A. We lost ourselves discussing ego, relationships, expectations, and the very energy passing between individuals. You cannot plan a night like that. It was divine, spontaneous, just filled with warmth and intellect. I learned a great deal about them both.

Only a few more days until my first visit to the doc. Woohoo. I took the time to head out and get my hair colored. Roots done, and then a round of highlights and lowlights, plus a cut and shaping. I LOVE the lowlights. They are a chocolate brown, and I want more of them to be honest. I needed some time to pamper myself, and I just want to do it again tomorrow. Maybe a pedicure and an eyebrow wax?

I cannot hold a thought in my head yet. I went to the trouble of buying Memoirs of a Geisha before my appt. at the salon. I read about 80 pages just during the highlighting process. It was rather intoxicating, and wouldn't you know that I walked out and left my unfinished adventure in the middle of some hussy's hair station. Damn.

This simple adventure drained me completely, and I came home and took the most fabulous nap. Oh, this WAS after I engulfed a seafood rice pot and sweet potato flan from Lemongrass. Mmmmmmmmmm....flan.

I am so sick of lying in bed. I cannot fully explain HOW sick of this illness I am already. Bless my friends, those I have left. Actually, this whining shit isn't my style, either. I am going to go now, and make the utmost of my energy. I'll blog when I fall.

To the MadMan

Please forgive my tardy response. I sat down and began to compose one almost a week ago, and then lost it.

I have read your rants and ramblings, and found myself lost in your chaotic logic and hilarity. I find it an utmost pleasureable experience in general, let me assure you. I heard that you had written about moi and I found myself instantly defensive. I figure that a couple times a week, I sit at my computer, most often now in my pyjamas, tossing out a mental pissing and you have the audacity to play Gene Fucking Shalit? I do not think so. We have never had the time to bond- you-a man that does not know me; you are dangerously underqualified to pretend to answer my life's deepest questions. At best, you would be compared to a Freudian Yukon Cornelius- throwing your mental pick axe in the air, only to lick the cold steel for answers to ingest, yet inevitably, you come back with "Nuthin'!"

All I can truly say to you my good man- is you are right. And I was wrong. And I was so glad to read what you had written. You are Oh-so-fabulously....CORRECT. Bless you a thousand times. After my inital medical diagnosis, I can tell you that I began to re-hash my self, my entire existance. I had come up with the exact same conclusion the morning before I read your blog to me. I have placed too much importance on the insignifigant. I have placed too much importance on those around me, those that were unworthy in the first place. I do have an enormous amount of strength, yet I refused to recognize it. Thank you, bless you, love you for taking the time and speaking out of turn about something that was none of your business in the first place. You have my gratitude. I owe you, and I promise to remember this always.

So, it's been about a week since I got the "big news"....First of all, my roomates and my family have all rallied around me, and for that I am so grateful. I have had more fun in the last two weeks than I have had in the last couple of months. I am so grateful. By yesterday, everytime someone cracked a joke, I winced as my belly has gotten sore from laughing so much. Not what you would expect, eh?

I received good news the other day- my appt. has been bumped up to Friday, so hopefully we will see what fate has in store for me that much sooner. My brother will go with me. I do not know why I have allowed him to go- he is not good at coping with stress. My mother and father both want to go, but as I told them- I am positive that we will not make any new discoveries, and there is no reson to come down. My brother, since he has gotten sober, has been a god-given dream. He is no longer selfish and petty- in fact he has been my saviour through this time. He takes me out every night that we are together, most often to The Grind. I find myself resting up to go grab a cup of late-night java and laugh my ass off all night. I get tired, and he drives me home, where I read. Cureently, I am reading Devil in the White City. Very captivating.

I have encountered a few bumps in the road. The only two men that I have ever loved in my life have picked up and walked out- one on a relationship, the other in what I thought was a permenent friendship. Ugh. In one respect, this is sickens me. This is the "worst" time in my life. I am unable to work, to play with my daughter, go to the zoo, live a normal ife in general...On the other hand- go now. Obviously these gents are not worth the worry. I have had one other friend bail in the last few days, and I was somehow surprised at this as well. It's left me a little delicate in the trust department....I went and had lunch with my oh-so-luscious lawyer friend the other day, and I explained to him that in my current condition that there are times when I feel weak and clingy. I wish that I had found love in my life and there would be someone to tell me that everything would be alright. And then I began laughing hysterically, "Then I think of the men that have been in my life, and boy, they would have really fucked this up!" We laughed and laughed over a Petit Syrah and began working on my will. Morbid, but hilarious.

Enter my new buddy, A. Now, he and I first met about 7 years ago, although we can barely remember each other. We bumped into each other, re-introduced by my brother, and instantly fell into this comfortable wavelength. We sit at The Grind whenever we can, just somehow knowing the other will be there, and we laugh all night. We have freely admitted an attraction to each other, and have discussed all of the million reasons why we are NOT going to see each other right now. It must be rather funny to watch the two of us, playing content with our growing friendship- which is real in and of itself- yet, there is an undeniable undercurrent. We simply dance around this, staring each other down, and verbally sparring until the wee hours of the morning. One of the things that I admire so much about A is that we met, we had some fun, and then my doc told me what she thought, and I told him...and it did not matter. He sat me down the other night to inform me that we would stop firing on me, as it was disrespectful to place me in that position while I have all of this going on, but beyond that nothing has changed. Nice.

As far as the next few days go, I wait. I feel my back knotting up as the days get closer. I simply need to remember to laugh as I have been doing. I am rather grateful for this experience. I know who my true friends are, and I will miss the ones that are not. Must get to the MadMan now.

Bummer, Dude...

Yesterday, after watching my brother toss his flowers on top of my grandfather's casket, I returned to my mothers house- drained and depleted. Actually, I didn't make it that far before I dropped. Oh well. I finally received a bit of news on my bloodwork. It's not great. In short, it seems that my adrenal glands are overworked. The reason that they are overworked is that there is probably a small benign (we hope) tumor on my pituitary gland. The super-duper cure for all of this is brain surgery through my face. Schweet! You know, I was never the type to just break a fucking leg, or get a bee sting. Oh, no! Too easy. If I cannot have the surgery, I get radiation. Woohoo. Hans Weiman, anyone? Heh.

Now, this was a crushing blow for an hour or two. It did not help at all that my doc mentioned that her friend just died of this. Thanks! I sat and sobbed with my mother for a while, while she made promises of not allowing me to die, and taking care of me. I did not care to mention to her in her equally fragile state that this was NOT the thing to say to "Little Miss Independent". Well, Simba- I am not afraid of dying for my own sake. I am afraid for my parents, and for my child. Death itself doesn't shake me in regards to my "final adventure". I'll be back, you can take that to the bank. Actually, I do not believe that I am about to die. It's just I have a higher probability of it happening now. Heh. Not to be a dramarama queen, but you cannot utter the words 'brain, tumor, surgery, and died a few moths ago' and ask me not to examine my own mortality. I now need to consider a living will, a last will, diability, caretaking...it sucks. However, I have much to say to all of you....

I believe that I will, in the end, be alright. However, no need to continue living like my life is a comfortable promise of longevity. I do not know- I mean, none of us are guranteed another day, but it all looks a little different to me today. One way or another, I am going to get some elusive wisdom out of all of this chaos and uncertainty. Everyone that I have personally spoken to about the doctor's recent findings has had one of two reactions- "you are going to be fine. don't worry- no need to get excited" or "Oh, my god. I am so sorry." I think that the "Don't get excited" people are really the "Oh, my God" people, and they just cannot find any other words.

Regardless of the outcome, if this is an end of a cycle, or the beginning of a new one, I am determined to laugh!

On a More Personal Note:

I am sorry about our apparant and sudden lack of friendship. I have heard that you have choosen me as your divine, holy scapegoat. Others have suggested that your lack of luster stems from your treatment of others, specifically me. Rather than release my fleeting, infantile venom; I shall pity you...I know more of the story than you think....

Sorry if You Have Been Listening Too Hard...

I have heard throught the grapevine that I was recently written about. Kudos to whatever was written. I'll look it up someday. Note to viewers: Whatever I spew on this little site, this simple occupation of the mind is never to be taken too seriously. Come on, I am never to be taken too seriously. What I love so much about the blog is I can record how I spew at that moment, and that moment only.

Case in point. I return home on Sunday morning, and my roomie, B, immediately walks up and hugs me. "I read your blog from Friday. You sounded so sad, so alone. We love you. It's going to be ok....." I am absolutely puzzled by this! I fold into the hug so freely offered, and reply "I know it's going to be OK. Was I in a bad mood on Friday? What did I write?" Laughter erupts.

Blur

Today is Friday. It doesn't mean much to me anymore. I can hold down food now, weight is 118 lbs. I am incredibly weak, and feel like a marionette with no puppetmaster. I am simply a lifeless bag of bones and parts. I went to the lab this morning for blood tests, and I have to return in less than an hour for more. I will not know anything until Monday afternoon, at best. Friends call and check in, but they do not seem to understand how desperate I am. I simply want control over my body again. It appears, that for now, it's too much to ask.

My survival is absolutley due to my faithful roomies, who have won my lifeling devotion- as if they did not have it before. However, I wish that someone was in love with me, and would play with my hair, and wrap me up in big, strong arms and tell me that everything was going to be alright.

I thought it would be too fun

My roomie posted this on her blog, and someday I'll get off my bony ass and link it. In the meantime, here are my answers, at least for today, as if you ever wanted to know this much about me.

A - Act your age? Sure, no problem there.
B - Born on what day of the week? I don't remember that much about my birth, it's all a little foggy...
C - Chore you hate? laundry
D - Dad's name? let's just skip this
E - Essential makeup item? LIPSTICK, definately, yeah...defiantely lipstick
F - Favorite actor? I would have to go with Gary Oldman....what a yumcicle.
G - Gold or silver? Gold
H - Hometown? St. Louis
I - Instruments you play? clarinet
J - Job title? Imaging Operations Supervisor
K - Kids? one, still short
L - Living arrangements? Housemates
M - Mom's name? Sheila
N - Number of people you've slept with? Under 5,000, thank you very much...
O - Overnight hospital stays? yeah, and just last week
P - Phobia? Falling, and anything that crunches when you step on it
Q - Quote you like? "I feel like a million tonight- but please, one at a time" Mae West
R - Religious affiliation? The jury is still out on this one
S - Siblings? One brother
T - Time you wake up? 5-6am
U - Unique habit? Cannot think of one, really- occasional compulsive toenail painting?
V - Vegetable you refuse to eat? Lima beans- not really a veggie
W - Worst habit? Smoking
X - X-rays you've had? Spine, lungs
Y - Yummy food you make? Eggplant Parmesean
.Z - Zodiac Sign? Leo

Oblivion

Yeah, my posts might be better if I could remember them. I am so whacked out right now on my meds- and saying very crazy things. I am not myself, not by any standard. This is recovery? Man, I am ready to head back to misery. Heh.

So, I did not have my date with JP the other night. I was too whacked by the time I dropped off my daughter at my mother's, or attempted to, anyway. She held me hostage. Next thing I know, I am in my jammies, lying in bed while she makes me tapioca. Hmmmmmmmmm......tapioca. She kept me there like that for 24 hours. I get to rush home the next day to have dinner with my roomies and my ex-boyfriend. Woohoo. Surprisingly, it went well. No complaints.

Fortunately, JP was very understanding. He called me last night and I am to meet him at his apartment this evening for snuggling. Sounds good. I am a touch-junkie. I have not been touched enough in the last month. I need someone to play with my hair, and kiss my forehead, and stroke my arms- these are things I refuse to live without- single or not.

I am very excited. I just entered my home, carrying the new release of Secretary. I have been looking fwd to this for a month! I am hoping to lift my spirits..It's not that I am actually sad or upset, but I am not my normal kooky self. Maybe a little spanking and a nap will do the trick, eh?

My only true concern is that I have lost so much weight. Over 10 lbs, I think. I am now below my goal weight- it took me so long to put it on, so many Big Macs eaten in a rush, so much time speant on my arse to make it grow....all that work down the drain. No pun intended. Where did my lush, juicy body go?

Today's Rant: I Am Fabulous! and So Are You.


My roomie, S, and I were talking in line at "a popular fast food chain" the other night. She told me of this mutual friend of ours, and how this woman doesn't really like me. I could sense it, but I could never figure out why. She said that she was threatened by me. I laughed at first, but it appeared that S was serious. She said that she looked at me, "and the long, blonde hair, and the tiny waist, and the curves, and ugh...she was threatened." I found this ridiculous, but it does prove my theory of female competition. Regardless of what we look like, we can feel ugly. (I always felt like Alice the Goon).

S proceeded to tell me about how I am "EveryWoman, the whole package". I thought about this as we continued talking. I have so many different aspects to my personality, that I can "do it all"...I can play beach volleyball or just lay on the sand. I can waltz in a ballgown, or go stand in line to hear Ozzy. I can play Nightengale when you are sick, spackle your walls, texture your ceilings, and fake my way through cooking a meal....I can sip Glenmorangie at the top of the Hancock, rub shoulders with your bank VP, and woo your mother...I can rant about Blair, Bush, or Bernie Mac...I can wear the stockings, play the pinup, and blow your mind....I am the anal-retentive woman in the office, the star pupil, the devoted mother. I have the most outrageous sense of humor, and the sweetest sense of humility. I am as fragile as I am tough. Where I am I going with this, you ask?

...I simply looked at S and said, "But we all are."

Instead, I Choose Vodka....and Chaka Khan

In Bridget Jones' Diary, a movie that I can relate to oh-too-much, Brigdet finds her dazzling beau cheating on her with a beautiful, waifish American girl. She then reflects upon what her life could become, as she dies a lonely spinster, her corpse being eaten by dogs...and she refuses. She says something to the effect of, "No. I will not be defeated by a bad man and an American insect. I choose not. Instead...I choose vodka....and Chaka Khan." This was, to me, a heaven-sent scene, along with perfect poetry. I remember this after each brutal love affair. Both of them. Heh.

SJ said that he was unsure of his decision as he ended it, that he thought he was making a mistake. Well....um....yeah. If you take into account how much I love him, and how much I thought he loved me, and all that we could have had if we had just wethered the storm a little...yep...mistake. I needed to go into that hospital, and sit, and quite honestly...to break. I am headed toward myself, my truest self, and feeling fine. However, I REFUSE to be with someone that is not sure about me. If there is one thing I know, as much as I can detest myself on some days (we all can)...I know what I am worth. If you cannot see that, well, by all means move on, baby. I am a woman to be strived for, not settled for.

It seems that Shiva and I have altered my course, and I can only trust that everything is for the best. So, I choose to rejoice.

So, here I sit. My entire life has changed in the last month, and I am sitting in the rubble, wondering how it all happened. Actually, it's not rubble. It's just that I am starting over. Again. Sigh. Actually, that sigh is merely a lack of energy, not a lack of optimism.

I checked myself into the hospital yesterday; doctor's orders. It was a major fiasco.

First of all- it was my daughter's birthday. I was to pick her up for my usual 4 days with her, and begin the celebrations at once! No, I am too weak to stand without shaking. I bawl my eyes out over being such a terrible mother, and enter the hospital. My daughter, ironically, takes the news better than I did. Once I pulled myself together, I called her to explain, and I swore that I would make this up to her the moment I was out of the hospital. She actually says to me in a mommy tone of voice, "No. No- you are not making it up to me. It's okay. YOU are sicker than....than a dog, mommy...". I laughed sooo hard. She is the greatest joy I could ever know.

They finally figured out what was wrong with me. I got the news 24 hours after my admit- I have the cruise ship virus. Woohoo. That was fun! I became too dehydrated, and my body no longer had the capacity to fight it off. I have lost five pounds so far, but most of that seems to be "pooch". Considering I was cat-called and propositioned as I attempted to enter the FIRST hospital I was supposed to check into, I don't feel like I am too emaciated. Heh.

So, then I am getting released and have a fabulous talk with my PCP. She is GREAT! I tell her about my last month- my dad is a nut- so I moved to remove that chaotic variable, but then I had a new earlier schedule, and midterms, and my dad disowned me over nothing, and the man I thought was so right for me left me a few days ago, and I can't hold down food, and I have missed classes, and I am struggling to tranfer to SLU, and I missed my daughter's birthday, and my job will probably try to fire me over this, AND...AND...AND...heh. The woman sat there and patted my hand, and then did something that I would have never anticipated. She leaned over and kissed me slowly, full on my sensual mouth. Just wanted to see if you were still here. No, she personally helped me. She told me to find a new job- start looking now. She told me of a nursing program I had never heard of before- where to go, who to talk to, what the scoop was, how highly these graduates were recommended and quickly hired by St. Joseph's- my favorite hospital. She is going to make sure that I receive time off from work without penalty, and probably with pay. She made me promise that I would let her know how it was going. My god! I have never heard of a doctor like that- certainly not in this day and age. I feel great!

I had plenty of time to think in the hospital. I realized that I had carved this path for myself, and the same stubborn, tough attitude that was getting me through the day-to-day, was the same thing that would not allow me to see that none of these things in my life were really working for me. My father always taught me that you simply did what you had to do. It would be incredibly difficult, and certainly not fun. I think he was wrong. There is no reason that just because I have it a little harder, that I cannot enjoy the ride. That's what my mother keeps telling me, especially when it comes to JP- "Just enjoy the ride, baby".

I feel like I was headed in the right direction, but not on the right course. I believe that Shiva picked me up in that oh-so-tumultuous- and-often-painful-way, and said, "Eh...Just a little to the left, dear. Now, there you go." Instead of laying in the rubble and wallowing, I see that this is not rubble. I feel so blessed and grateful. A little weak and bruised, but undeniably happy. I have opportunities at my door that were always waiting, but I did not see.

So, now, I must prioritize and get to work!

One quick note: it's personal and cryptic: B: It was so good to see your face at the waiting room, and so comforting to wake up last night and just hear you typing. Thanks for making me feel protected. S:There is no way I could ever list all that you have done for me, not in the last week, and certainly not ever. Thanks for letting me be "the cryin'est woman you ever saw", the Amy clothes at the hospital, the snobby coffee fix, and for being the treasure that you are- I want to be you. R: Thanks for the laughs. No one makes me laugh like that but you. C,P, and K: Thanks for all the light and support. I haven't gotten to speak with you all yet, but let's just say that I felt it in my gut. Heh. M:Thanks for talking so much.Your problems took me away from my own. I hope I help, or at least make you laugh. NBB: I know you don't know this, but hearing your voice for five minutes makes me feel so sensual and I smile like an idiot all day. Thanks for the fix. JP: Thaks for looking so goddamn devilishly handsome when you pooked your head around my curtain! You gave my 80-year-old roomate a hot flash! Thanks for holding my hand and waiting for me to come around. You are certainly a gift- and I am anticipating unwrapping you when the time is right. Thanks for understanding my need for time. D:Last, but not least. I am glad you are back in my life, although disembodied. I have missed you and I appreciate all of your endless support in the last two weeks. I love you too, and next time, I will heed your wise words and "Open my shirt"!