Oh yeah – and FUCK WAL-MART!

I grew up pretty normal, I guess. There are pictures of me as a lean tomboy with long gold-streaked hair holding up a giant catfish, playing with the dog, and sitting with my paternal grandmother and a handful of boy relatives, all happily wreathed in flowers. I don’t remember those times well, but I think I was about as happy as a horse girl without a horse could be.

I remember getting comments from my maternal grandmother that I was getting chunky at about age 12. I never paid her any mind. Even my Daddy’s shock at my inability to run a whole block at age 13 only served to make me consider myself lazy. As a teen I developed huge knockers and therefore was told I was beautiful by so many people that I believed it, and believed it well into my 30s. Of course I was beautiful – I was a frickin’ teenager! Nothing can beat youth for physical beauty, and even those considered ugly by their peers are at the apex of health and vigor compared to anyone with wear on their tires.

After my big wreck, where I broke my femur so badly that it had to be threaded together like a bone necklace with a steel rod, I began the slow descent into obesity. The botched post-crash operation had caused me to walk on a broken leg for almost a year and subsequent surgeries to repair the damage knocked me further into the abyss. Moving hurt. Exercise sucked. Food felt good.

Food wasn’t all, though – men helped too. My reasonless but severe need to be loved took me to many places I’d be pleased to disremember, but at least it had the small benefit of keeping me somewhat in check as to my voracious appetite. Still, the weight crept on, not in the least bit hindered by my sometimes excessive consumption of alcohol. ‘All things in moderation’ was a slogan opposed to my general outlook on life. My heaviness, though, was still somewhat sleek and firm; I was definitely overweight, but luck and genetics gave me great proportions, so I could still pull out the ole’ Jessica Rabbit costume once in a while.

At some point I fell in love, or close enough at the time (what has flowered now wasn’t always such a staunch little seedling). Let me tell you folks, happiness is not the worst thing you can do to your waistline – comfort is. The easy fast food and frozen pizzas, the careless consumption of calories eaten together, and eventually the endless elaborate meals created and eaten to stave off boredom… these things all combined with the lull of contentment to make me grow to the size of a small hippo.

What struck me as funny was that I didn’t really notice at first. I continued to flirt with boys, to bound up stairs. My knees began to give and I thought nothing of it. I was forced into larger and larger pants, but I still felt beautiful. The realization came on me like the feeling of tipping too far back in a chair, upon noticing that bartenders were flirting with me only until their shifts were over, that old flames didn’t spark up when we met again, and that my knees were not just playing around – they were serious as shit. Suddenly I noticed that not only was nobody flirting with me, but that I was practically invisible. Some days I actually had to take the stairs as slowly as my grandfather, one painful step at a time. So it was that I began to know I was fat.

I stopped going out as much. One of my favorite pastimes, flirting, was obliterated. It took a lot of liquor to get me to flirt at all, and my shame and mortification upon sobering up was brutal. Who in the hell would want to talk to a horse like me? What was I thinking?? I tried, as I had all of my life, some half-ass attempts at dieting and exercise. I usually just gave up, blaming stress or lack of time or that sheer rebelliousness that wanted me to not give a shit. All in all I figured that as long as I wasn’t unhealthy, I could handle being unwanted. Stairs, however, remained my mortal enemy.

I knew I was actually putting myself in danger medically when I had to start blood pressure medication and developed sleep apnea. I noticed people recoiling from sitting with me, waiting for me to pass before entering a hall. Even with all this evidence, it took until this last Halloween to really and truly sink in. What all the pictures that made me wince (god what a bad angle!) and doctor’s warnings (your medical problems stem from your excessive weight) could not do, one offhand comment from an asshole dug down deep into me. This Halloween I’d decided against a costume, but I thought I’d dressed pretty cute in my boots and long coat. Upon arriving, a treacherous acquaintance asked my boyfriend if I’d come dressed as Mama Cass. I felt like someone punched me in the chest, and my vision was filled with the blurry blackness of shame. Luckily Matt didn’t hear him, for there would have been blood (his protectiveness of me is a beautiful and scary thing) – but I heard him. I retreated to a corner booth and stayed there all night, intensely aware that anywhere else, my bulk would block many people from seeing the show.I’d never thought I was THAT fat.

I mulled this situation for a couple of months. I had recently lost a great job of 13 years through no fault of my own, and my life had been changed drastically. I’d not felt the support I’d hoped from the people whom I’d helped attain their dreams, and was lost in a sea of self-hatred and denial that I’d had any hand in my bad luck. For an optimist, this is an unbearable state of affairs, so when I finally busted out of my self-induced depression, I changed. I started eating less. I bought a juicer. I joined a workout boot camp. Yesterday was my first day.

I don’t know yet if this is going to work, or be another in a long line of failed attempts to rid myself of most of myself, but I’m filled this time with a determination I’ve never known. I’ve got a really long way to go, and I’m in terrible shape, as evidenced by the soreness from yesterday’s workout, but I am facing it head on. I’m going to stick with it because I paid so much for it, if nothing else – but I hope to god I fall in love with it, with being able to move again, with not hurting all the time, and eventually with not being invisible anymore.

Wish me luck.

I used to have this thought quite often, when I was much more miserable. I lived in a town I disliked with a man I didn’t love, had a job that bored me and a frightening lack of art and music in my life. I specifically remember the first time it happened – it was during my 45 minute drive to work, and I was pissed at myself; torn up about money problems and my sheer lack of direction. Suddenly a little movie played in my head, and stunned me so that I had to pull over and remember how to breathe again. It was a vision of me putting a gun in my mouth and pulling the trigger.

I’m not suicidal, and never have been, although I have been stupid enough to “try” for the attention once when too young to have developed any goddamn sense. Despite getting fucked over by my last job, I know full well that I have it really good – better than most, in almost every way. I’m not the type to groove on the grave or dig the darkness; my goth-flavored black apparel is intended to try to slim my fat ass, not to let the world know that I’m on the edge of knocking myself off. For years, the vision stopped coming – it stopped after I moved to Athens and got out of that shitty relationship. Now it’s back, kicking me in the stomach when I’m down; taking my breath away when I really, really don’t want to stop breathing.

Why?

Luckily, I still have the DBT sending me a small but much appreciated check every week, although I try not to rely on that either, bands being a business that is only consistent in that they are never consistent. I make some money with freelance, and I’m constantly on the hunt for a new job. I’d love to stay in Athens a couple more years, at least – I love this town, and I love my house. However, there’s very little chance I’ll be able to find something that pays even half what the last job did – so for now, I am living on borrowed time and the tiny nest egg I had built for my future.

I would much prefer to start my own business now that the corporate world has rejected me, but I’ll be damned if I have a single plausible idea. I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to spend 14 hours a day on the computer. Being of the real world would be a vast improvement. I need inspiration, support, and knowledge. I need determination and drive. I need to be smart.

Instead, I sit here wishing I could think of one single good reason to get out of bed tomorrow.

No bond could break the barrier of class, though; by Jr. High she broke away to hang out with friends who were in a whole ‘nother class of blondness, coolness and richness. I didn’t blame her; we were fairly poor and I didn’t know how to dress or act around popular people. If they didn’t like horses, music or Han Solo, I pretty much had nothing to say to them. I went on to be an artist and get heavily into music, and she got into the hotel business. I ended up working for my favorite bands and she’s apparently taking in money like gangbusters. Last year I was proud as punch to post a photo of me with Booker T. Jones; today, she just as gleefully posted a photo of herself with The Situation from Jersey Shore.

Funny how the differences between us never really changed, just our levels of friendship – but we both end up pretty happy about where we are…  even though we are in VASTLY different places.

Somehow, it never seems possible that things will change. In the midst of small, if any, changes, everyday life can take on a thick, distracting haze. Suddenly concepts like “never” and “gone” take on completely different hues – more muted, less realistic.

Don’t worry, though. Change is coming, and it’s bringing some hard liquor. With Death, rediscovery has come to me in phases, none of them anything I ever wanted to remember since I was finally able to forget it after Chris. Writing it down helps me get it out, to pick the sore numb, so here goes.

Phase one. Gone

Yes, there’s a chance that this thing of flesh and blood that you hold before you will be gone one day. No matter how long you hold on to it, one day, it will be dust.Unfortunately, there’s no way you can ever actually conceive of that notion until that day comes. And why would you want to? Why taint the beauty of now with the horror of inevitable? Once it is upon you, the emptiness of your bed, the coolness of the space beside you, the teasing of vague dreams and spilling of many tears from eyes that will no longer behold your beloved will drive you slowly insane.

Phase 2  – my fault.

Oh my god, I didn’t do everything I could. I wanted her to go out peacefully, in her sleep, suspecting nothing but another bright happy healthy day. Instead, her last sight was of a stranger, her death came upon me so fast i could not hold her and let her know she was okay. I failed to protect her, the only one who could. Oh, my sweet baby girl! How could I have let you go!

Phase 3 – everywhere.

Everywhere I see her, posing as she did; happy and basking in my love. The emptiness that is there now is draining; it sucks the memory out of me and slaps me with it until I am numb. Everywhere I hear her voice, I see her image, I feel her love.

Phase 4 – horror.

She is out there, alone, cold. can it really be that the vessel that held such a beautiful spirit is empty and feels nothing? Could she need to be warm, loved, even as her body rots? I cannot bear the thought of her being alone and cold, my sweet, sweet girl.

Phase 5 – alone.

How lonely this world is without that true love. How can everything be so empty without her?

Phase 6  -hope.

I hope, though I do not know what I believe, that she is part of some stronger force now. I hope that life was worth living for her. I hope that she knows how much I loved her, and how much I would have done for her. Anything. Anything.

Rest in peace, Ryo-oh-ki. Tuesday October 20, 2009

Matt and I are ridiculously close to Ryo-Oh-Ki. We got her as a kitten when we first started dating 9 years ago. As a kitten, Matt would put her under the covers at night and she’d curl up next to him. She still loves to tap or headbutt us to get let under the covers and sleep curled up between us.

She cannot resist an outstretched finger – she must sniff it, and usually parlay that sniff into a caress of her face. She loves to ride in the car, or on your shoulder, or on top of Matt’s head. She is stoic and sweet and playful and strong and smarter than any cat I have known. We play with her all the time and she’s almost constantly on my lap or knee when resting. She is the biggest part of our household, easily; Matt and I love her like a child, often fondly fawning over her cuteness or sweetness or smartness, bringing us closer together in our love for her. Our concern is for her first, always, and just the idea of her being lost or hurt has brought both of us to tears so many times it’s kinda insane.

We began to notice she was swollen in the abdomen, and losing her balance a lot. We just fought off a urinary tract infection in August, struggling to give her antibiotics without running out of band-aids for our scratched-up fingers, but she seemed to be better from that. Unfortunately, she never gained weight back, and though her appetite and thirst appear to be better than ever, when she began to fail in other ways I took her to the vet.

After an initial consult with my vet, she pointed me to the UGA vet school. They confirmed what I suspected – the poor thing can’t pee. She’s blocked up and they cannot figure out why. The fluid retention in her abdomen was the key to FIV testing. They’re pretty sure that is what she has, and insist that she be put out of her misery. I argued, and pleaded, and they were able to drain her bladder with a needle so she would not be in pain. Then I brought her home.

The vet, a very nice young man who spoke to me with seriousness and respect despite the tears pouring down my face, says we have a couple of days maybe until her bladder fills back up and she is in too much pain to be kept alive humanely. He said they’d keep draining her if we could afford it, but that eventually other symptoms of the disease would kill her or make her miserable – he wanted to put her down then and there. No. I could not let her die there, alone and cold and never seeing home again. He says she is in no pain for now, and she’s sitting next to me on the couch right now, looking tired and sick and sweet as the day we got her.

This is way fucking harder than I thought it would be. I am researching every possible combination of  “cure FIV treatment survival” but the pickings are slim, so at the same time I am trying to adjust to the idea of a life without Ryo-oh-ki.

It’s killing me.

I have to go in the other room to scream and cry. I try to pet her but she doesn’t stand for much; she doesn’t want to sit on my lap or between my legs as she usually does, surely in pain and a little miffed from her office visits. I can just look at her and cry. See her there. Imagine her not. Walk past her bowl and howl with pain. She is here with me now, but I am looking at something I am about to lose forever. I’m trying so hard not to upset her. I want to fight this thing, to try to save her, to mortgage my house or sell everything to pay to get the experimental drugs imported from France… but I see her eyes, and I know I can’t do that to her. A lifetime of pills and injections and drainings with big needles, of vet visits that end her love of car rides, of hiding under the bed so she won’t have to go. As much as it is killing me to know I have to let her go, I am not cruel enough to keep her here for me.

When Matt gets home, this all gets worse. He loves her as much as I do, and he’s been working and unable to rail against the gods as I have been doing, or pet her and love on her as I have been doing. He is going to be as much of a basket case as I am. This is causing us both to confront that meal ole’ specter Death, and that motherfucker is never fun.

The worst thing about it is that my Grandmother is also in the hospital and on the way out, and as much as I love her, her long-time bout with Alzheimer’s has let us be prepared for her death. I am so sad about that already, but to lose my sweet sweet kitty so suddenly – it’s bad. Having her here to say goodbye to is almost terrible, though necessary. I could never have let her go without letting her know how much we love her, without letting her come home from that horrible place, without holding her one more time. Selfish, I know.

She seems at peace. God fucking dammit this is the hardest day I have had in years and years and years. And it only reminds me that this is just the beginning – that I have nothing but the deaths of people I love more than life itself, and them my own death, which if anything seems a blessing compared to the grieving in store.

I don’t mean THAT kind of natural, perv. I mean slowly going natural with everything I use and abuse. Get off all the medication I can. Stop buying and using plastics. Make sure products I use in the home are approved by the majority of health-conscious, naturalist researchers.

A small part of me – the egotistical, nihilistic part – doesn’t give a rat’s ass if I die from cancer caused by microwaving all my food in tupperware or develop a tumor the size of an egg from using a cell phone. Live in the now! Do the easiest thing! I haven’t got time for all this!

Fortunately – or unfortunately if you believe as I sometimes do that ignorance is bliss – the majority of me wants to take care of myself and my world. My problem is – will I DO it, or is it just another thing I’ll start and not stick to, adding to my already disheartening list of failed diets and exercise plans and artistic endeavors?

Well, as pissed as I am at myself for possibly setting myself up for my own damn fall, I think I will try. Maybe even one small change will make some difference, so if I only make one – that’s better than before.

I already shop the Farmer’s market, and try to use organically grown food as much as possible. I can’t stand bad smells, so getting rid of my beloved detergents and cleaners (I am selectively OCD about cleaning – it’s ridiculous) will take some doing. What I can do, right now, is stop using plastics with food.

They have already proven that many microwaveable plastics leach BPAs into food when heated. I have to admit that I can certainly taste the plastic when I eat something I’ve heated up in it, and that can’t be good.  My first goal is to stop doing that – yet I don’t want to use paper plates, or anything that isn’t reusable, so I’ll have to take some glass dinnerware to work. That’s a small step! Surely I can manage to make that happen…

Catch me on Monday. I bet I forget.

So I reckon this list is full of things people are supposed to want to do in their lives, or at least are forced to, and you’re supposed to bold the things you have done. Feel free to steal it; I stole it, and it’s kinda fun, when you have a few minutes to kick around just thinking about yourself.

01. Bought everyone in the bar a drink (very small bar, very few people)

02. Swam with wild dolphins (Dad has, and I really want to!)

03. Climbed a mountain (does Spruce Pine Mountain count?)

04. Taken a Ferrari for a test drive

05. Been inside the Great Pyramid

06. Held a tarantula (we used to have one named Godzilla)

07. Taken a candlelit bath with someone

08. Said “I love you” and meant it

09. Hugged a tree

10. Bungee jumped

11. Visited Paris

12. Watched a lightning storm at sea

13. Stayed up all night long and saw the sun rise

14. Seen the Northern Lights

15. Gone to a huge sports game

16. Walked the stairs to the top of the leaning Tower of Pisa

17. Grown and eaten your own vegetables (one day – my lone tomato plant is still alive!!)

18. Touched an iceberg

19. Slept under the stars

20. Changed a baby’s diaper (did not like)

21. Taken a trip in a hot air balloon

22. Watched a meteor shower (with my Dad, laying out in the yard on lawn chairs – a fond memory)

23. Gotten drunk on champagne (duh)

24. Given more than you can afford to charity (I’m a sucker for animals)

25. Looked up at the night sky through a telescope

26. Had an uncontrollable giggling fit at the worst possible moment

27. Had a food fight

28. Bet on a winning horse

29. Asked out a stranger

30. Had a snowball fight

31. Screamed as loudly as you possibly can

32. Held a lamb

33. Seen a total eclipse

34. Ridden a roller coaster (I’m scared to death of them thangs)

35. Hit a home run

36. Danced like a fool and not cared who was looking

37. Adopted an accent for an entire day

38. Actually felt happy about your life, even for just a moment

39. Had two hard drives for your computer

40. Visited all 50 states

41. Taken care of someone who was drunk

42. Had amazing friends ( I wish I could double-bold this – and the one above, too)

43. Danced with a stranger in a foreign country

44. Watched wild whales

45. Stolen a sign

46. Backpacked in Europe

47. Taken a road-trip

48. Gone rock climbing

49. Midnight walk on the beach

50. Gone sky diving

51. Visited Ireland

52. Been heartbroken longer than you were actually in love

53. In a restaurant, sat at a stranger’s table and had a meal with them

54. Visited Japan (maybe soon though!)

55. Milked a cow

56. Alphabetized your CDs

57. Pretended to be a superhero

58. Sung karaoke (Once I sang with my brother’s band, but I sucked so bad I will never sing in front of people again)

59. Lounged around in bed all day (that’s just a daydream nowadays…)

60. Played touch football

61. Gone scuba diving

62. Kissed in the rain

64. Played in the rain (I’ve done all three of those at the same time!)

65. Gone to a drive-in theater

66. Visited the Great Wall of China

67. Started a business

68. Fallen in love and not had your heart broken

69. Toured ancient sites

70. Taken a martial arts class

71. Played D&D for more than 6 hours straight

72. Gotten married

73. Been in a movie (Done movie makeup, though!)

74. Crashed a party

75. Gotten divorced

76. Gone without food for 5 days (are you crazy?)

77. Made cookies from scratch

78. Won first prize in a costume contest

79. Ridden a gondola in Venice

80. Gotten a tattoo

81. Rafted the Snake River

82. Been on television news programs as an “expert”

83. Got flowers for no reason (from my sweet mama)

84. Performed on stage (in many ways, lawd)

85. Been to Las Vegas

86. Recorded music (long story…)

87. Eaten shark (that my dad caught!)

88. Kissed on the first date (that’s all I’m sayin’)

89. Gone to Thailand

90. Bought a house

91. Been in a combat zone

92. Buried one/both of your parents

93. Been on a cruise ship

94. Spoken more than one language fluently

95. Performed in Rocky Horror

96. Raised children

97. Followed your favorite band/singer on tour

98. Been to the Great Barrier Reef

99. Taken an exotic bicycle tour in a foreign country

100. Picked up and moved to another city to just start over

101. Walked the Golden Gate Bridge

102. Sang loudly in the car, and didn’t stop when you knew someone was looking

103. Had plastic surgery

104. Survived an accident that you shouldn’t have survived

105. Wrote articles for a large publication

106. Lost over 100 pounds (almost need to though, jesus)

107. Held someone while they were having a flashback

108. Piloted an airplane (for like a second!)

109. Touched a stingray

110. Broken someone’s heart

111. Helped an animal give birth

112. Won money on a T.V. game show

113. Broken a bone

114. Gone on an African photo safari

115. Had a facial part pierced other than your ears

116. Fired a rifle, shotgun, or pistol

117. Eaten mushrooms that were gathered in the wild

118. Ridden a horse

120. Had a snake as a pet (Tia Mat – I miss him)

121. Hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon

122. Slept for more than 30 hours over the course of 48 hours

123. Visited more foreign countries than U.S. states

124. Visited all 7 continents

125. Taken a canoe trip that lasted more than 2 days

126. Eaten kangaroo meat

127. Eaten sushi

128. Had your picture in the newspaper (and not for anything bad, either!)

129. Changed someone’s mind about something you care deeply about

130. Gone back to school

131. Parasailed

132. Touched a cockroach

133. Eaten fried green tomatoes

134. Read The Iliad – and the Odyssey

135. Selected one “important” author who you missed in school, and read

136. Killed and prepared an animal for eating

137. Skipped all your school reunions (and god willing, I’ll miss the rest of them)

138. Communicated with someone without sharing a common spoken language

139. Been elected to public office

140. Written your own computer language

141. Thought to yourself that you’re living your dream

142. Had to put someone you love into hospice care

143. Built your own PC from parts

144. Sold your own artwork to someone who didn’t know you

145. Had a booth at a street fair

146. Dyed your hair

147. Been a DJ

148. Shaved your head

149. Caused a car accident

150. Saved someone’s life