So I had this thought that somewhere in the world there must exist this cool tiny country or village where funerals were joyful, not sad. Celebrations of life, if you will. A place where even mothers who lost their young children could devote a short period of time, an hour or two, to holding hands with neighbors and friends and relatives. In this obscure village they would laugh as they remembered through stories and pictures they told with sticks in sand, the child who had passed, as they embraced one another.
It would only be after this period of celebration that the body, placed in it's box, would be presented for burial.
I attended a funeral three weeks ago. Two parents had lost a son, two siblings a brother. The family called the service a celebration of life. The casket was in the room, but a PowerPoint photo presentation and guitar player and accompanying bass guitar, singers, and story-tellers comprised the centerpiece.
An earthquake happened in my body that day, and I was shaken.
One by one, family members and friends shared stories about this young person who had passed.
I'd brought Kleenex, but apparently not enough.
I'd worn sunglasses, but apparently they weren't too sagacious because my mother ended up handing me more tissues from her purse as well.
Eventually I got up and grabbed a box from the next aisle over.
When story-time was finally over I was grateful. I couldn't bear it anymore. But I went home feeling changed and grateful for the experience. Lots of people were moved, from this funeral celebration service. I decided I'd blog about it.
I Googled it to start, funeral celebrations, and was disappointed. I read a lame article on Business Insider that some weirdo yuppie with purple hair surely wrote, which categorized five types of funerals in five major countries. Boooo. And that feminist-economist-slacker-writer-wannabe probably charged a day's wages to BI and got paid $500 for her posed labor.
But what I really wanted Google to tell me, and I went 17 pages deep! was whether this cool little tiny village really existed where people didn't automatically do something sad or bizarre like eating someone's burned bone ashes. Can't there just be a celebration of someone's life? Can't we just honor a person for having lived? Isn't talking about the deceased and giving one another a hug a normal thing? Can't all cultures agree on that?
Are people typically sad all around the world at funerals? Can you tell me that Google? Instead of throwing up this BI BS?
Are we supposed to be sad? Would the person who just died have wanted us to walk around in black dresses and suits and hang our heads?
What if something amazing just happened earlier that day and someone happens to be really happy? Is it okay for someone to be really happy at a funeral?
Are we allowed to stay home if we feel too upset to go? How much emotion is it okay to show?
I've been wondering about why I cried so much at that funeral celebration. It was kind of ridiculous, honestly, how much I cried. I just had a storm brewing inside I guess. Emotions are like the rumbles that happen way deep down at the ocean floor, but sometimes those rumbles cause shifts and all of a sudden the sea comes tsunami'ing out.
I won't be talking to my family about how I want my funeral to pan out anytime soon, but when my uncle passed away three months ago, he had every detail of his funeral worked out. He asked his youngest of three daughters to officiate the service, too. She did a great job, really holding it together. I don't know how she did it. I bawled when I watched the video. She had this beautiful glow. It made me wonder at the gratitude for her almost 35 years shared on this (somewhat still) green planet with her dad. The same amount of time I've had with mine. How lucky I am to have my father here still.
Death certainly puts things in perspective for those of us who are still living. It makes us hold each other a little more closely. Even for those of us who don't really hug. I'm holding my family closer in my heart and thoughts this holiday season for sure. It seems that death this winter has been all around.
I wasn't very close to my uncle. He was hard to be close to. His wife and daughters were the only ones he really let in.
He was a very tall man. I remember looking up to him, literally, from a very young age, and I never stopped. He pastored a church and was a true bible scholar, but also a man of very few words, ironically. Uncle Royal. Uncle Ironic. He seemed to do plenty of speaking in his final months, finely crafting his funeral service. Every t was crossed, i dotted. He and his daughters sang hymns during the final days of his life spent in hospice care, and my aunt shared pictures through email with my mom and I. It's hard to even write about this. Something about old Christian hymns, and going to meet Jesus. There's something so powerful in that.
His funeral service was not quite a celebration. But it was not a sad event either. It was upbeat, formal, and at times, entertaining! It was an honorary service to the Lord. Royal had picked out hymns, scriptures, and a blue grass gospel video, all honoring the Jesus he preached about for over 40 years.
Maybe not everybody wants people to make a big fuss over them when they die. And I for one don't want to even talk about it. Well, that's kind of hypocritical to say. But I don't want to even think about it as far as my own funeral, at least not yet. But I think it's good to think about in general terms, anyhow. It's good that we can explore different models of how to let go here in the liberal Western world, where anything goes. We're not bound by tradition, although some people still are, and there's comfort in that to some extent. I hope we continue to break away from traditions that don't serve to better us, however, when it comes to helping us grieve in healthy ways.
Thursday, December 29, 2016
Wednesday, July 13, 2016
Cookies
So I'm living at home with my parents and baking cookies. That is my life now. It's been reduced to butter, flour and sugar. Pretty much.
I don't know what to blog about anymore. I thought maybe there would be a story in this baking of cookies, but there's not. And there isn't much else, either. I just bake cookies. Everyday. And tape labels onto bags. I feel kind of like a one-woman factory.
I indulge in cookie dough, and this is a problem. I've gained 20 lbs in the past 2 months, though I'm only back up to my original 125'ish weight, so I can't complain. Yet. But what if it's another 20 this Fall. And by winter I'll just commit health suicide. I'm already beginning to not care anymore. Not about being healthy, not about being skinny. It doesn't matter.
The cookie dough also inhibits my ability to do a 3rd annual FaceBook bikini picture this summer. If I do one, I might just let it all hang out, belly and all. I'll slouch a little. Not shave my armpits for a week before the shoot. And lift my arms while squatting, sumo style. It could be funny.
Who have I become?
I didn't even go outside today. I did briefly, to get something in my car, and it was hot as hell, and I was thankful for my parents' dark shaded home, which kept somewhat cool, though I slaved over a 400 degree oven all day, and got about 50 brief facial steams in opening the oven and bending my entire upper body impatiently into it's belly when retrieving cookie pans.
I played with my dogs - 3 miniature schnauzers. Two are puppies and recent additions to my parents' home. Elmer (the boy) and Dutchess (the girl). With our third dog Brody, these names match in first letters to my names. Erin Danielle Boyea. Elmer Dutchess Brody. I think my parents subconsciously gave these dogs these names because they love me more than my sister.
That was a joke. It's just a neat coincidence. But I do think my parents love me the most.
They have to. I bake them cookies (and many other things) everyday. I vacuum. I play with the dogs. I get the mail. I do the dishes.
My mom gets mad at me though when I outscore her on Dots on her iPad. She hasn't figured out how to predict where the dots will fall to make a square.
I guess that's it. I'm still watching Bob Ross on Netflix. He makes me feel calm. The anxiety comes at night and I'm tired of running away from it. I sit through the cold sweats and focus on paint. How it all comes together in a picture. I contemplate the beauty of life for those who find and master their gifts.
I looked up Bob Ross the other day to see how old he is. I guess he died in '95. Some form of cancer I think. Maybe from all the paint fumes. I don't know.
I thought I'd be playing music this summer, but the cookies took over. Until my administrative leave paychecks from my last job suddenly came to an end 2 weeks ago. I won't be able to purchase ingredients to bake cookies much longer. I'm already giving away more cookies than I sell from each batch. If I'd known my paychecks would abruptly end I'd never have invested in starting this cookie baking business. I'd have let my paychecks go into a savings account. Lord knows how long I'd be able to survive on a couple thousand dollars. Now I have to survive on zero dollars and the good grace of my parents. Thirty-four years old and this is what my life's amounted to. Zero. It's tough being out of a job with no pay. It's tough having seizures that come about now whenever I get upset. I'm afraid. I'm depressed.
For my thyroid readers, my June levels were TSH .008, up from .002 in March. But I saw an endocrinologist who said my PCP should not have decreased my thyroid medication by so much, and she is now increasing my dosage slightly and taking over my thyroid care. Summer and winter dosage requirements might differ based on my history, I realize. I'm lucky to have insurance that affords me a specialist visit like that. Hopefully my former employer won't cut out my health insurance while I'm on this suddenly extended and now unpaid medical leave. Hopefully life gets better. It has to.
That's it for now. Goodnight.
I don't know what to blog about anymore. I thought maybe there would be a story in this baking of cookies, but there's not. And there isn't much else, either. I just bake cookies. Everyday. And tape labels onto bags. I feel kind of like a one-woman factory.
I indulge in cookie dough, and this is a problem. I've gained 20 lbs in the past 2 months, though I'm only back up to my original 125'ish weight, so I can't complain. Yet. But what if it's another 20 this Fall. And by winter I'll just commit health suicide. I'm already beginning to not care anymore. Not about being healthy, not about being skinny. It doesn't matter.
The cookie dough also inhibits my ability to do a 3rd annual FaceBook bikini picture this summer. If I do one, I might just let it all hang out, belly and all. I'll slouch a little. Not shave my armpits for a week before the shoot. And lift my arms while squatting, sumo style. It could be funny.
Who have I become?
I didn't even go outside today. I did briefly, to get something in my car, and it was hot as hell, and I was thankful for my parents' dark shaded home, which kept somewhat cool, though I slaved over a 400 degree oven all day, and got about 50 brief facial steams in opening the oven and bending my entire upper body impatiently into it's belly when retrieving cookie pans.
I played with my dogs - 3 miniature schnauzers. Two are puppies and recent additions to my parents' home. Elmer (the boy) and Dutchess (the girl). With our third dog Brody, these names match in first letters to my names. Erin Danielle Boyea. Elmer Dutchess Brody. I think my parents subconsciously gave these dogs these names because they love me more than my sister.
That was a joke. It's just a neat coincidence. But I do think my parents love me the most.
They have to. I bake them cookies (and many other things) everyday. I vacuum. I play with the dogs. I get the mail. I do the dishes.
My mom gets mad at me though when I outscore her on Dots on her iPad. She hasn't figured out how to predict where the dots will fall to make a square.
I guess that's it. I'm still watching Bob Ross on Netflix. He makes me feel calm. The anxiety comes at night and I'm tired of running away from it. I sit through the cold sweats and focus on paint. How it all comes together in a picture. I contemplate the beauty of life for those who find and master their gifts.
I looked up Bob Ross the other day to see how old he is. I guess he died in '95. Some form of cancer I think. Maybe from all the paint fumes. I don't know.
I thought I'd be playing music this summer, but the cookies took over. Until my administrative leave paychecks from my last job suddenly came to an end 2 weeks ago. I won't be able to purchase ingredients to bake cookies much longer. I'm already giving away more cookies than I sell from each batch. If I'd known my paychecks would abruptly end I'd never have invested in starting this cookie baking business. I'd have let my paychecks go into a savings account. Lord knows how long I'd be able to survive on a couple thousand dollars. Now I have to survive on zero dollars and the good grace of my parents. Thirty-four years old and this is what my life's amounted to. Zero. It's tough being out of a job with no pay. It's tough having seizures that come about now whenever I get upset. I'm afraid. I'm depressed.
For my thyroid readers, my June levels were TSH .008, up from .002 in March. But I saw an endocrinologist who said my PCP should not have decreased my thyroid medication by so much, and she is now increasing my dosage slightly and taking over my thyroid care. Summer and winter dosage requirements might differ based on my history, I realize. I'm lucky to have insurance that affords me a specialist visit like that. Hopefully my former employer won't cut out my health insurance while I'm on this suddenly extended and now unpaid medical leave. Hopefully life gets better. It has to.
That's it for now. Goodnight.
Tuesday, July 12, 2016
Nostalgia
My pain hits me sometimes, like a whip, it stings inside.
I miss the old, the old familiar, the old nonsense and pointlessness. Everything unmeaningful. It's meaningful now.
I miss the now, stuck in the then. The world screams light-waves but I can't hear.
I miss the sound of your voice and of your laughter. I miss your smile. I miss the shenanigans and the dull but somehow exciting bar-talk we shared when the day was far away.
Night owls. Passing souls. Strangers sharing a breath of time together, and it ends.
I miss feeling nothing. That was something. Something special indeed.
I miss the old, the old familiar, the old nonsense and pointlessness. Everything unmeaningful. It's meaningful now.
I miss the now, stuck in the then. The world screams light-waves but I can't hear.
I miss the sound of your voice and of your laughter. I miss your smile. I miss the shenanigans and the dull but somehow exciting bar-talk we shared when the day was far away.
Night owls. Passing souls. Strangers sharing a breath of time together, and it ends.
I miss feeling nothing. That was something. Something special indeed.
Sunday, June 26, 2016
Netflix Doc Reviews 4: The Fundamentals of Caring, Prescription Thugs, Being Ginger, Meet the Patels, Full Metal Jacket, Where was God?
1. The Fundamentals of Caring
Okay, it was a film, not a doc. A Netflix original film, to be exact. But I wanted to share it because it featured a main character who was a jerk asshole teenage boy confined to a wheelchair. His new caregiver had to have a very intimate care-giving relationship with him. It was extremely well written, lighthearted, and thought-provoking. Everyone should watch it! 10/10
2. Prescription Thugs
Umm, we have a different war than terror to fight in this country, and it's against opioids and amphetamines. Holy crap. I can't believe the creator of this film was allowed to exploit the pharmaceutical companies so freely. Bravo Netflix. I learned a lot. I also have more compassion now for people who rely on pills for pain or whatever. Former drug dealer Chris Bell is ballsy and he keeps it real. 8/10
3. Being Ginger
Did I review this one before? I watched it back in January. Anyways, I guess there is racism against redheads in some parts of the world. It's acceptable racism, which is strange, as I've never thought of red hair as a thing that constituted much of a difference between another person and myself. I mean people die their hair purple and pink now. Are strawberry blonde highlights really a thing to fear? Apparently so. Strange film, although there is a cute love story tied in, as the redheaded director tries to find a girl who will go out with him. He is cute, but struggles immensely. 6/10
4. Meet the Patels
I watched this when I was going through my internet dating phase and meeting Indian men over a year ago. I became intrigued with their culture. The producer of Meet the Patels, an only child in an Indian family of 3, films his parents as they discuss their views of marriage and life. They are a very cute family, worthy of having a reality show. I'd like to see more footage of this family if Netflix has more in the future. The Indian dad was especially funny, and I actually felt when the documentary ended, that I'd lost a friend without being able to properly say good-bye. I must have this Indian dad in my life, at least cybernetically. 9/10
5. Full Metal Jacket
Again, not a doc, but someone suggested I watch it, and let me tell you. The first 20 minutes terrorized me. I felt like I'd been to boot camp and war thrice over by the end of the film. It was an extremely disturbing psychological story of what a soldier goes through. 10/10
6. Where was God? Stories of Hope After the Storm
This was rather depressing, so I'd suggest watching this alone if you don't like getting emotional around others. It starts out kind of sad but then there are moments later on that pull your heart apart. It's about families torn apart by the Oklahoma tornado of 2013, which collapsed an entire school house. Anyways, it's not too graphic, and there are moments of the film showing how the tragedy brought a community closer together. 7/10
Okay, it was a film, not a doc. A Netflix original film, to be exact. But I wanted to share it because it featured a main character who was a jerk asshole teenage boy confined to a wheelchair. His new caregiver had to have a very intimate care-giving relationship with him. It was extremely well written, lighthearted, and thought-provoking. Everyone should watch it! 10/10
2. Prescription Thugs
Umm, we have a different war than terror to fight in this country, and it's against opioids and amphetamines. Holy crap. I can't believe the creator of this film was allowed to exploit the pharmaceutical companies so freely. Bravo Netflix. I learned a lot. I also have more compassion now for people who rely on pills for pain or whatever. Former drug dealer Chris Bell is ballsy and he keeps it real. 8/10
3. Being Ginger
Did I review this one before? I watched it back in January. Anyways, I guess there is racism against redheads in some parts of the world. It's acceptable racism, which is strange, as I've never thought of red hair as a thing that constituted much of a difference between another person and myself. I mean people die their hair purple and pink now. Are strawberry blonde highlights really a thing to fear? Apparently so. Strange film, although there is a cute love story tied in, as the redheaded director tries to find a girl who will go out with him. He is cute, but struggles immensely. 6/10
4. Meet the Patels
I watched this when I was going through my internet dating phase and meeting Indian men over a year ago. I became intrigued with their culture. The producer of Meet the Patels, an only child in an Indian family of 3, films his parents as they discuss their views of marriage and life. They are a very cute family, worthy of having a reality show. I'd like to see more footage of this family if Netflix has more in the future. The Indian dad was especially funny, and I actually felt when the documentary ended, that I'd lost a friend without being able to properly say good-bye. I must have this Indian dad in my life, at least cybernetically. 9/10
5. Full Metal Jacket
Again, not a doc, but someone suggested I watch it, and let me tell you. The first 20 minutes terrorized me. I felt like I'd been to boot camp and war thrice over by the end of the film. It was an extremely disturbing psychological story of what a soldier goes through. 10/10
6. Where was God? Stories of Hope After the Storm
This was rather depressing, so I'd suggest watching this alone if you don't like getting emotional around others. It starts out kind of sad but then there are moments later on that pull your heart apart. It's about families torn apart by the Oklahoma tornado of 2013, which collapsed an entire school house. Anyways, it's not too graphic, and there are moments of the film showing how the tragedy brought a community closer together. 7/10
Netflix Documentary Reviews 3: Holy Ghost, Dope, Furious Love, Fuller House: Season 1, Bob Ross: Season 1, My Beautiful Broken Brain, The Genius of Marian, Finding Vivian Maier, Janis: Little Girl Blue
1. Holy Ghost
This documentary followed a former member of heavy metal band Korn in his spiritual walk today. Mostly, he tells people about Jesus and tries to pray for them. There were a couple of other dudes praying and healing people, too. It really fascinated me, but then I read one distinct negative review on Netflix (even though the documentary had an overall 5/5 star rating), and it made me question everything I just saw. I've posted the negative review below, and you can watch the film and decide for yourself. 8/10
2. Dope
A fun ghetto film. Not a documentary, but I needed to include it. It's about a modern day black nerd, who dresses like Fresh Prince, but lives in the ghetto. Imagine Will Smith, as a smart and responsible teenager, growing up in the projects of West Phili. The film was well-directed and scored, and fairly well written. I just liked the concept for the character most of all. Though rated R, it seemed appropriate for the whole family. 7/10
3. Furious Love
This was kind of similar to Holy Ghost, but not quite as captivating, so I'll give it a 6/10.
4. Fuller House: Season 1
Also not a documentary. But so epic I must review! Lots of laugh-on-the-inside moments. Give it a few episodes, and you'll be hooked for the season. I was surprised to see how well the roles of DJ and Stephanie Tanner were played. Nothing was awkward. Not even the fake audience laughter following Kimmy's dumb attempts at attention, though she seems to have given up her crush on Uncle Jesse. She has a child, and is recovering from years of drinking and drugging, so she's grown up a bit, too. Rebecca and Jesse share some very wet kisses (that was as close to awkward as it got), and of course, Jesse plays his "Forever" song (yeah, that was pretty awkward) toward the end of the season. They really hashed out a lot of old memories though, yet not many visual flashbacks. Maybe they weren't allowed to use old footage for copyright issues. "Michele" did not re-join the cast, and other characters make comments about her disappearance, in one instance saying she can't join them because she is too busy "running her fashion empire." 9/10
5. Bob Ross: Beauty is Everywhere, Season 1
Wow this was a trip. Back in time, and out into nature. His paintings really come to life in front of your eyes in like 20 minutes. It's so amazing. Now kids can pause and play to prepare their palettes and practice their brush strokes. If they're painting for real and not using computer painting software. Ross often takes a moment talk about nature and animals. On the first episode, he shows baby squirrels suckling from a bottle, that he prepared for them after they lost their mother! It was nuts! I wish I could own one of his paintings, really. That would go on the bucket list for sure. 10/10
6. My Beautiful, Broken Brain
This was a legit documentary. This girl had a stroke and lost the ability to do certain things. She had to learn how to do basic things all over again. It was scary (she was only 34!) and touching. 9/10
7. The Genius of Marian
A son films his mother after she is diagnosed with Alzheimer's. I felt the film was too slow paced and boring, and it was poorly edited, and also a little invasive and exploitative. But anyways. It's there on Netflix. Maybe it could help somebody who is struggling with losing someone they love to this disease. 6/10
8. Finding Vivian Maier
This nanny whom everyone knew as always walking around with a big camera around her neck, finally got exposed, long after her death. Her pictures are so amazing, I must give this film a 10/10.
9. Janis: Little Girl Blue
Such a sad story of Janis Joplin, but this film brings her back to life, and humanizes her in a way no other media has. Great footage, and some very intimate interview segments with Janis and those closest to her. This is a story worth watching. 8/10
This documentary followed a former member of heavy metal band Korn in his spiritual walk today. Mostly, he tells people about Jesus and tries to pray for them. There were a couple of other dudes praying and healing people, too. It really fascinated me, but then I read one distinct negative review on Netflix (even though the documentary had an overall 5/5 star rating), and it made me question everything I just saw. I've posted the negative review below, and you can watch the film and decide for yourself. 8/10
2. Dope
A fun ghetto film. Not a documentary, but I needed to include it. It's about a modern day black nerd, who dresses like Fresh Prince, but lives in the ghetto. Imagine Will Smith, as a smart and responsible teenager, growing up in the projects of West Phili. The film was well-directed and scored, and fairly well written. I just liked the concept for the character most of all. Though rated R, it seemed appropriate for the whole family. 7/10
3. Furious Love
This was kind of similar to Holy Ghost, but not quite as captivating, so I'll give it a 6/10.
4. Fuller House: Season 1
Also not a documentary. But so epic I must review! Lots of laugh-on-the-inside moments. Give it a few episodes, and you'll be hooked for the season. I was surprised to see how well the roles of DJ and Stephanie Tanner were played. Nothing was awkward. Not even the fake audience laughter following Kimmy's dumb attempts at attention, though she seems to have given up her crush on Uncle Jesse. She has a child, and is recovering from years of drinking and drugging, so she's grown up a bit, too. Rebecca and Jesse share some very wet kisses (that was as close to awkward as it got), and of course, Jesse plays his "Forever" song (yeah, that was pretty awkward) toward the end of the season. They really hashed out a lot of old memories though, yet not many visual flashbacks. Maybe they weren't allowed to use old footage for copyright issues. "Michele" did not re-join the cast, and other characters make comments about her disappearance, in one instance saying she can't join them because she is too busy "running her fashion empire." 9/10
5. Bob Ross: Beauty is Everywhere, Season 1
Wow this was a trip. Back in time, and out into nature. His paintings really come to life in front of your eyes in like 20 minutes. It's so amazing. Now kids can pause and play to prepare their palettes and practice their brush strokes. If they're painting for real and not using computer painting software. Ross often takes a moment talk about nature and animals. On the first episode, he shows baby squirrels suckling from a bottle, that he prepared for them after they lost their mother! It was nuts! I wish I could own one of his paintings, really. That would go on the bucket list for sure. 10/10
6. My Beautiful, Broken Brain
This was a legit documentary. This girl had a stroke and lost the ability to do certain things. She had to learn how to do basic things all over again. It was scary (she was only 34!) and touching. 9/10
7. The Genius of Marian
A son films his mother after she is diagnosed with Alzheimer's. I felt the film was too slow paced and boring, and it was poorly edited, and also a little invasive and exploitative. But anyways. It's there on Netflix. Maybe it could help somebody who is struggling with losing someone they love to this disease. 6/10
8. Finding Vivian Maier
This nanny whom everyone knew as always walking around with a big camera around her neck, finally got exposed, long after her death. Her pictures are so amazing, I must give this film a 10/10.
9. Janis: Little Girl Blue
Such a sad story of Janis Joplin, but this film brings her back to life, and humanizes her in a way no other media has. Great footage, and some very intimate interview segments with Janis and those closest to her. This is a story worth watching. 8/10
Monday, May 9, 2016
A New Normal
Bear in mind that my dad has epilepsy, so it was easy for the hospital to diagnose me with epilepsy after the September seizure. People don't have grand mal seizures from hypothyroidism. However, hypothyroidism and epilepsy go hand in hand in many case studies I've read over the years. Now I've become one of those statistics. I always thought statistics were what happened to other people, and that I could play my own physician and manage my own health, primarily by reading about health and nutrition and staying in the know. Nope. I need prescription drugs.
I've been having anxiety, but can't take anxiety medication, because it interferes with the seizure medication. My anxiety has contributed to a 30 lb weight loss this winter. I went from 138 to 108 between November and March.
My brain is completely rewired now. I've lost my sense of humor and my personality, at least what I used to know it as. I've also lost some cognitive functions. The other day upon waking up, I couldn't add six plus six. It took me about 10 seconds to add it with my fingers when I finally realized I couldn't do it any other way. I've gone into sudden rages, emotional fits, panic attacks, and sheer hysteria at the drop of a dime, sometimes for no apparent reason. I cry everyday now.
I wish someone would have caught my head when I had my seizure. From what I was told, people around me just watched me walk around blabbing verbal nonsense, until I started bashing my head against the wall and floor, at which point someone dialed 911. I don't know how people can just sit and watch someone break their brain and do nothing. No one in an office full of people even thought to cradle my head. Maybe they were afraid. Afraid of the noises I was making, and possibly of other things coming out of my body. I was more alone that day in a room full of friends than I am now in a town full of trees.
There's no going back now. No going back to the normal I used to know.
I did try to refuse the seizure medication for a couple months after being released from my 4 day hospital stay. I googled "Seizure Triggers" and decided I could avoid alcohol, stress, flashing lights, sunlight, and caffeine, and decrease my chances of having another seizure. However, I couldn't avoid other triggers, like food sensitivities (I think sugar and MSG are a couple), chemicals in dry erase markers and cleaners (which have made me pass out in the past), my period (hormonal imbalances), and missed medication (well, I was refusing to take medication), and I kept getting funny feelings, about once a week, and I knew my head wasn't right. I didn't feel like myself. Within a couple months I noticed myself feeling detached and depressed and eventually anxious and suicidal. I fainted a few times, and also woke up from seizures in my sleep. I decided to take a short medical leave from work between Thanksgiving and Christmas, and start taking the seizure medication. It made me extremely tired. I wasn't able to drive and I could barely go up and down the stairs in my apartment building. I was slurring my speech, and feeling nauseous when I ate. I became increasingly sensitive to sunlight, too. The future began to look as dim and bleak as the 4 pm. winter sunsets.
My landlord was nervous about me living on the third floor. The walls were A-frame and it was hard to even stand up all the way in my room or the kitchen or bathroom. I'd hit my head several times while contorting my body to get into the shower, and he knew this. He's actually fixing the apartment now, at least that's what he told me after I moved out.
He was Indian man #1, who I'd met on Match.com a year earlier. He helped me out when I needed a place to stay, but it wasn't safe for me to be there any longer, and he and I both knew that.
I'm home living with my parents now, since I can't function like I used to. It isn't so bad, but I worry about how I'll ever redefine normal, or fit into any mold that society finds acceptable.
My TSH reading was .02 after my blood-work drawn this April. It explained the anxiety I was feeling, and the heart palpitations I was having this winter. My TSH reading in 2011 was over 400, which was indicative of a sluggish, under-active thyroid. I used to be very slow and dull. Non-emotional. Non-feeling. Non-caring. I liked me better that way. Nothing got to me.
Now I'm on the other end of the spectrum, completely. It's uncharted territory for me, these waters, these feelings. I wish they'd go away.
I've had a Murphy's law sort of year this 2016, set into motion by banging my head 8 months ago. Makes me wonder if that's why heavy metal fans are so dumb. Our brains aren't meant to be shaken around.
I saw a Reiki energy healer lady last week. She lives and practices her healing art in Long Lake, NY. I don't know that my parents approve, since my dad pastors a Christian church, and this lady was into new age stuff, but whatev. I'm desperate to try anything, I told myself. I'm sick of going to sleep wondering if I'll wake up in a cold pool of sweat, or wake up at all, or what kind of night terror I'll have. I've experienced such strangeness lately. Strange tastes and sensations in my mouth and in my mind, even a physical squishiness in my brain. I'm a writer and I have no words to really describe it. I've been drifting in and out of consciousness daily and nightly, hours and days meshing into one another like braided sets of ropes twisted into knots. I don't really know who I am anymore.
The Reiki energy healer lady was
amazing, though. She gave me hope. Told me in the beginning of our
meeting, not knowing anything about me other than my first name, and that I was pissed that her office was hard to find, that her hair was standing up all over her body, and that
"Spirit" told her I was supposed to be a ghost writer. I told her there
was no way I was into writing ghost stories. But then she explained what
ghost writing was, and what kind of money her ghost writer friend made
per book, and she seemed willing to help me with networking. So there's
that, maybe.
She also talked to me about energy spirals and something about the word tork or torque, I don't know. I looked it up but it's all too Sheldon Cooper for me. Then she had me lie down on a raised bed, placed some crystals by my head, and covered me with something a soft as a mouse's belly. She began a dance, which I could only imagine behind my closed eyelids, as she blew air audibly all around the room and snapped her fingers at the air beside me, circling my body, and sometimes lightly touching and talking to it. She reminded me a couple times to breathe a certain way and to flex my toes. I obeyed. Maybe it helped. Maybe it did something. Who knows. It cost $95 so I hope so.
Friday, March 4, 2016
The world is going to end
The world is so screwed up! Up is down and left is right and good is bad and bad is AWESOME!
I was at a music festival about 10 years ago and there was a table set up in the tent where people buy bongs and stuff and these dudes at one table were offering people 50 bucks to get a chip inserted into their finger. They were testing out tracking software in humans!! It scared me but other people were in line to get their fifty bucks.
The government is trying to inject us and infiltrate our minds with all kinds of crap. People at this festival were too messed up to even probably remember having the chip implanted in them.
So sad. I realize there are wild conspiracy theories out there. But the bible's predictions of the final days are happening right now. But people are deceived. And those people may think I'm deceived. In fact, I hope they're right, and I get to live a nice long happy life, but in case that doesn't happen, I want to know I shared what was on my heart with people while there was still time.
I'm scared. I don't think it matters who the next president is. Nobody's gonna fix this country or this God-forsaken world. We are doomed.
I'm part of the mess too. I buy clothes made by Asian slave children. I buy gas at Mobil sometimes, who is a sponsor of Planned Parenthood. I waste gas letting my car run for an hour some mornings when it's really cold, or just driving around for no reason, when people's heads have been chopped off in the name of oil.
I spend money at McDonald's and put sheer crap in my body. Crap made by the young teenagers who work these jobs to buy themselves clothes and gasoline. Indentured servants worked for 7 years to own land. I worked hard in college for 6 years to rack up an $80,000 debt that with interest is over $100,000.
I make barely $40,000/year, and a third of that goes to taxes, health insurance, union dues, and a couple other things. That leaves 28. Subtract 6 for rent and 6 for food/gas. That leaves me about $16,000 to try to save toward a $100,000 house and an $80,000 student loan. But then even that 16 disappears. I don't know where it goes really. Let me think.
tithe/charity $5000
gifts for people $2000
impulsive clothes shopping $1000
meds/vitamins/herbs $1000
car insurance $600
phone $600
netflix $100
Okay, so I guess I could be saving about $5,000 or so each year. Then I could maybe put a down payment on a house in 10 years, when I'm 45 and too old for any man to love me.
But maybe if I have a nice house he will.
I watched a documentary called Freedom to Fascism recently. It made me realize I was a deceived slave, tricked into thinking I'm free. But I'm not. I may as well go live in North Korea.
I went through the drive through again yesterday and bought another sundae with extra hot fudge. It was late and dark and I should have gone to bed instead. What a loser I am. I just wanted it so bad I couldn't think straight. I ended up making an obnoxious effort to get it. In my mouth. Now.
I digress. I haven't had another grand mal seizure since September. The seizure medication seems to be helping. Go figure. I was wrong about healing myself through nutrition and wishful thinking. I have this strange feeling like everything might start coming together soon. Maybe it's a 7 year cycle thing though. I'll turn 35 this August.
My seizure medication was expensive when I started taking it - $144/month through Rite Aid. And that was the generic! Then I switched to Walmart and it was $75/month. Then I made some phone calls to my HR department and found out I was mistakenly never mailed my prescription coverage insurance card, good for CVS pharmacies only. Now I use CVS mail-order scripts and pay $15 every three months and the seizure meds are shipped to me.
I'm considered an epileptic now. I was approved for free rides in a handicap van. Sunlight makes me dizzy so I'll have to start using that as the days get longer and brighter. I was told I wouldn't have to pay a fee. My blind friend Josh uses the same handicap van but it's not free for him. He has to pay $4 per stop.
Yes, the world is going to end.
I hate the word epilepsy. Instead of studying this unique gift I have to travel in and out of consciousness, they call it a disease and make me pay for medication to make it go away.
My pastor here in RI cites research studies in his sermons sometimes that support what the bible teaches about how to live our lives and treat people. At my first AA meeting I was told that in order to overcome addiction, I had to believe in God.
And it's in the big blue book an old man gave me at my first meeting, when I was 7 days sober from alcohol, probably for only the second time in my entire adult life. A lady sitting next to me pulled a gold coin out of her pocket, and slipped it into my hand. The coin said 24-hours-sober. When it was my turn to share, I was really honest with the group. I told them I wasn't really an alcoholic, but was there to watch and learn.
Which I was and did.
I never even decided to quit drinking. I just decided I might not want it anymore, when I woke up from a grand mal seizure last September. And I still haven't gotten a craving.
I've gotten bored though, and that's dangerous. Blogging, sleeping, and cleaning incessantly have ironically kept me pretty sane. Having a full-time job helps, and part-time friends, and lots of alone time with Netflix and something I'll call Lilo. I'm not always looking happy. But I still have joy inside somehow. I'm more content on a bad day single than I ever was on a good day with my ex.
I had to be alone with myself. I had to get to know me. Focus on my own flaws. Learn to be gentle on myself. Learn to love myself and treat my self with kindness. I think that's how I justify eating McDonald's sundaes sometimes.
My RI pastor cited a research study that showed married couples who waited for marriage before having sex reported being happier overall after 20 years and again after 40 years of marriage, compared to couples who didn't wait for sex. The ones who waited also had a lower divorce rate.
I haven't seen or dated anyone seriously in the past 5 years. It will be 5 years this April since I left my past life. And since then the remembrances I tried to cling onto. All gone now. I feel like I can breathe again.
The guys I met on a dating website last Spring were all losers. Except one guy named Steve. He is the one who encouraged me to go to AA meetings when I decided to give up drinking. He must have known how hard it would be, even for the occasional social drinker.
My landlord was the biggest loser of all. He finally installed a CO detector 2 weeks ago, though I started mentioning it almost a year ago. The old one kept beeping. I'm limited to a small space heater and a gas kitchen stove and the entire shared third floor wreaks of propane. I try to open windows sometimes but he checks on the house, since he pays the electric bill. He even walks into my room some days, maybe to check on his hidden cameras, I don't know. I'm creeped out though. I told him I'd be out by the end of June.
Whatev. I needed a cheap place to move into fast last spring and he offered to help. Beggars can't be choosers.
My 96 year old grandmother is still living with my parents temporarily while her frozen pipes problem is being fixed. They had to take out her entire dining room ceiling. I hope the carpenters moved all her nice rugs out of the construction zone and kept dust out of the other rooms by hanging up plastic over the doorways. I hope they aren't getting her nice hardwood floors all scraped up with salt that sticks to the bottom of work boots in winter.
Grandma speaks highly of those handymen however. Grandma. She will probably outlive us all.
Saturday, January 16, 2016
Netflix Documentary Reviews 2: On the Way to School, Dear Zachary, The Propaganda Game, The Tiger and the Munk, Jesus Camp, Kevin Hart Stand-up, How to Die in Oregon
Kids from far-off countries walk 10-20 miles to school. They avoid elephants and tigers. A brave video camera man visits and follows along. Epic. 10/10
2. Dear Zachary
A guy started making a documentary for his murdered friend's son. The documentary ended up becoming a mission to change the Canadian legal system which had a law that allowed convicted murderers to post bail and live freely until their court date, whilst postponing that court date several times. 6/10
3. The Propaganda Game
North Korea is a wonderful place to live, according the people interviewed in this film. They believe the government takes good care of them, despite lacking some Western endorsed common amenities.
They've been brainwashed. As we all have, to some degree, with government-pushed propaganda. But North Korea's government takes it a step further.
They call themselves a democracy. Yet their past 3 leaders have a direct paternal lineage, more like a monarchy. Kind of like the Bushes maybe, if the Bushes were as smart as the Kims.
The biggest difference I saw between North Koreans and Americans in this film, was people's attitude toward government. In the U.S. we are very split. We're becoming the dis-United States.
But the dedication represented in this film of North Koreans to their leader was analogous. Children are taught in school from an early age to salute and chant about the greatness of their present and past leaders everyday.
Sidenote: First came Kim Il-sung (placed in charge by the Soviet Union after WWII) and then Kim Jong-il (sung's son), and now Kim Jong-un (sung's grandson). Kind of gives you a double chin to say Jong over and over again. Maybe if those people talked differently they wouldn't have such long faces.
North Koreans are shown throughout the documentary screaming and crying when in the presence of their leader. It reminded me of how girls screamed and cried when they saw the Beatles.
I'm reluctant to elaborate any further on my opinions of North Korea. 10/10
4. The Tiger and the Monk
I got bored of this after 11 minutes. It was disappointing to me that I couldn't stick it out because it was only 50 minutes long. It was about monks and their pet tigers. 3/10
5. Jesus Camp
Religious extremists in this documentary make Christianity look nuts. It disturbed me almost as much as "The True Cost."
I felt bad for the children of these extreme evangelicals. This is not Christianity folks. This is just... wrong. True Christianity and a true understanding of Christianity comes from a church with a prepared pastor. Of all the churches I've been to in RI (probably 20), only one church had a prepared pastor who wasn't afraid to speak the truth. The pastor streams his sermons live and you can check out what real Christianity is all about here: graceCfellowship.org
But extreme evangelicals are different. In "Jesus Camp," children appeared to be demon possessed in some footage. It gave me chills to watch as adults subtly encouraged and praised children for shaking and crying in church.
My understanding of Christianity is that the bible is the inspired, written word of God. It tells the ultimate love story, one of the shared love between a parent and his child, and what extreme natures that kind of love will drive a loving soul to do.
In the end love is all that matters anyways. And God is love. He's not what the extremists in this film worship.
This movie was a disgrace to Christianity. 5/10
6. Kevin Hart Stand-up 1, 2 and 3
This wasn't really a documentary. I only watched the first one, most of it at least, entitled "I'm a Grown Little Man."
I stopped it about 46 minutes in when I realized I wasn't in the mood for comedy. But it was funny, the story of his run-in with an ostrich, and his impersonation of said bird. He really is hilarious.
He also had a good joke about his daughter yelling at him before she had developed a vocabulary. He interprets what she's saying through her toddler talk and body language. That shit is pure funny yo.
Seriously though, it's January and life completely sucks. The only reason I searched Kevin Hart on Netflix (and none of his movies were available to stream) is because one of my middle school special ed students wrote an essay about wanting to spend a day with him. He wrote about funny scenes in his favorite Kevin Hart movies. I thought I'd check me out some Kevin Hart this weekend. And I'm glad I did. 7/10
7. How to Die in Oregon
I was bawling in the first 5 minutes as they showed a home movie of a family sitting with their loved father/grandfather as he drank the "medicine" that would end his pain and suffering. He said good-bye. He wore a diaper and a button-down shirt. After he drank the "medicine" he said it tasted like wood. He laid down and sang a song and closed his eyes. Then the singing stopped, and his mouth opened wide. He let out an inaudible sigh.
The rest of it I didn't really pay attention to. It started to get political. So I ate a sandwich and called an Indian guy I dated. He didn't answer. 9/10
Sunday, January 10, 2016
Netflix Documentary Reviews 1: The Drop Box, Love Me, The Dark Matter of Love, The True Cost, Craigslist Joe
The Drop Box is about a man in Seoul, South Korea who lets people drop off unwanted babies in a drop box he has attached to his house. He said God asked him to do it, after for several years, hundreds of babies were being abandoned on the streets of Seoul due to social circumstances that ultimately outcast women who had a baby out of wedlock.
The social system is the problem. People don't value life over traditional values. In one scene it showed Korean news footage of babies being found in sewage pipes and garbage bins still crying, while others were left on streets and sidewalks to be walked and driven over. Many of these babies had their umbilical cords still attached.
Pastor Jong-rak Lee and his wife have taken in many babies over the years, some of which are severely disabled. The film teaches a lesson on humanity. 10 out of 10.
Love Me
Some ugly overweight loners try to buy themselves a wife from an online Ukrainian dating website. It was fascinating and horrifying at the same time. 9 out of 10.
The Dark Matter of Love
Despite its creepy title, and equally creepy adoptive father's attempts at creating premature bonds with 3 adopted Russian children, this film was somewhat touching.
It was about a married couple who had one biological child but were not able to have any more. When their one daughter was almost full grown, they adopted 3 Russian orphans: two young twin boys and a preteen girl.
It was painful to watch the dad try to interact with the adoptees. He made them change their names against their will. It was awkward because one of the twin boys' names was changed to an American name that in Russian sounded like a bad word. But he had to take that new name. I almost turned the documentary off at that point.
The mom looked like she was doped up on painkillers and muscle relaxers for most of the film. She just floated around the house, often hiding in bed during filming, as the dad did all the work.
When she finally had to get out of the house one evening to go watch her adopted daughter perform a song at school, she completely ignored the girl afterwards and talked to other parents and teachers at the school instead. The adopted girl nearly cried for the first time in the whole movie. But even then, the adopted girl said to the film's producer, "I will never cry."
I wanted to punch my computer screen out at that point.
But I stuck it out. Maybe the editors of the film just sucked and intentionally wanted to create awkward tension for the viewer. I wished it had been filmed differently, though. I think the parents deep down were good people who wanted to share all their wealth with less privileged children. And they did.
By the end of the doc, the kids did seem happier and well-adjusted. The adoptive parents were clearly loaded, but the film never explained how they had so much money. Maybe they won a big Powerball lottery. Neither parent worked. The dad would ride a tractor lawn mower around hundreds of acres of land that wasn't farmed, but served as what these Russian kids came to know as an American backyard. They'll probably be spoiled, rotten jerks a few years from now. Never knowing what love really is. At least not from this cardboard family.
The end. 4 out of 10.
The True Cost
I had this idea in my head a couple years ago that the true cost of putting gasoline in my car might be the blood of children. Oil wars. Bloodshed. Cheap gasoline for me.
Oil is the leading bloodshed cost industry, but tonight I learned that the second highest human blood cost industry is the textile industry. Cotton. Clothing. Fashion.
When we go shopping, if we're not buying something made in America, it's likely being hand-sewn by a third world slave. This documentary changed me. I kind of wish I hadn't watched it. I feel socially responsible for my consumer decisions now.
The True Cost will open your eyes to the foolishness of the fashion industry. A handful of fashion world industry gurus are getting rich at the cost of keeping slavery very alive and well in third world nations.
One woman at a clothing factory in Cambodia said she started a union with the other workers, and together they peacefully drew up and presented a list of factory conditions they wanted to see upheld, along with an increase in pay from $120 U.S./year to $160 U.S./year.
These women had given up their children and were sleeping on wooden floors and breathing in harmful chemicals at work everyday. But the factory owners went into a little room to discuss what to do with the new worker demands. When they came out of the little room, they allegedly beat up all the women. They stabbed sewing needles through their bodies and bit them, too. It was horrible to read the sub-captions as this woman tearfully recalled that day she tried to enact change.
I recommend you don't watch this if you're not ready to drastically change your shopping habits either. Some of the top companies who outsource slave labor include H&M, Walmart, and Levi's.
I don't even like fashion that much but I cried myself to sleep as the film ended with footage taken from clothing store cameras on Black Friday here in our "free" country. Freedom comes at a cost. I'll have nightmares for life from having seen this. 5/10.
Craigslist Joe
An average guy, Joe decides to videotape his road trip around the country with no money. He only has his phone and a computer, whereby he meets strangers on Craigslist. At one point during his travels, Joe actually meets the founder of Craigslist. The film explores the generosity of strangers who comprise the Craigslist community, particularly those who feed and house Joe and his cameraman during their 31 day adventure.
My favorite part was when Joe meets a lady on Craigslist who had a small part in the movie Home Alone 2. Her name is Fran McGee, and she somewhat regrets what her life has become after her dream of becoming a famous movie star died. She is older now, and battles cancer now, using healthy food instead of surgery. She is also a hoarder but says her ability to see her hoarding behavior as insane makes her sane. "You have to be sane to see something you're doing as insane," she says. She has a great smile, too. A fresh spirit. A bared soul. She made me believe in the goodness of humankind for a minute.
I'd give this film a 10/10. I almost gave it an 11, but I want to be a serious critic here. But I loved this documentary, co-produced by Zach Galifianakis who I also love, and I love the friends of mine who recommended it. Thank you.
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