Weight of My World

I am mentally exhausted and yet I can not sleep.

It's amazing how quickly life can change. I once heard it said that life is what happens when something else is planned. Boy, is that ever true.

I've seen changes in many directions since the spring of 2009, but never in my life has it had such an impact on my mental state or emotions. I find myself drained - lacking all motivation or drive, wondering what's going to happen, knowing that my entire life hangs in the balance, resting comfortably in the hands of someone other than me.

I have nobody to blame but myself. I put myself in this situation. But I can't hang in the balance too much longer. I MUST do something about this, and I will.

I've always been a strong person, even when I didn't know it. It took a precious friend to point that out to me recently, and I can't thank her enough for that. I always find that I have that fire in my belly when I need it most ,and I know when the time comes it will return full force. I've done and seen enough in this life to know how to survive with nothing but the clothes on my back, and though I really wouldn't want to ever be there again, I know I would pull through it just fine as I always have before.

I often wonder if I was ever really meant to be happy. While I often screw things up for myself and I have a long history of poor choices, I've also been known to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I've had it all, only to have it pulled out from under me like a Persian rug. I've given up so very, very much, only to get very little in return. I've been promised the world and denied everything but food and shelter in the same breath.

I've been too trusting, too patient, too loving and too generous. Well, I just don't seem to learn. Time and time again I find myself wondering what I've done wrong and what I've done so bad in my life to end up feeling like this, feeling like my whole world is crumbling around me, crushing me under the weight of the world. It's not the first time I've found myself wondering what's going to happen to me.

I have an enormous weight on my shoulders right now and I can NOT lift it on my own - YET. I can feel that strength bubbling up, but right now it hasn't even gotten past my calf muscles. I know, without a doubt, that by the time the fire bubbles to my finger tips, I will have all the strength I need to hurl that weight off my shoulders and straight to the moon.

It's not here yet, but it's not long in coming. When it gets here - look out world - THE REDHEAD WILL BE BACK IN ACTION.

Camp Thousand Pines

I think I was in the 5th grade when I went to Camp Thousand Pines for the first time. I remember pulling up in the bus and having all the girls in one group, the boys in the other. It had been a hard year in school for me that year, having just lost my best friend, Louise Pritchard, when she moved away. I've never stopped looking for her.

The bus pulled up in one of the most beautiful places I had ever seen. Little cabins were dotted through the woods with a central hall in the dead center of it all. The kids all piled out and began to scatter in multiple directions before one of the teachers bellowed for them all to freeze where they were and reassemble by the bus.

One by one we received cabin assignments. There was a teacher or parent in each cabin, but that didn't stop the girls from giggling and the boys from trying to pull practical jokes on one another at night. Parts of the trip turned out like the practical joke events in the original "Parent Trap" movie.

We went on night hikes. We met the local Native American tribe and they came to teach us how to do the traditional Rain Dance. I discovered my allergic reaction to bees. I had a metal ladder fall on my leg and sprain my ankle and we all took turns in the kitchen preparing a meal for the other kids before taking any food for ourselves. We even learned how to curl our hands and place our lips in the correct position in order to call the squirrels. I can actually still do it.

We told ghost stories out by the fire at night, roasted marshmallows over the open flames and enjoyed root beer floats while chatting about life in general. Though it seems as if Camp Thousand Pines has changed a lot since I was last there, my memories of the place before technology, live on just as they were.

Boo Hag - a Ghost Story.

You know how they say some folks are lucky at cards and some are lucky at love? Well, that fit Bobby Hansen to a ‘T’. He was the best poker player in the county, but somehow he couldn’t find himself a bride. Oh, he proposed to several girls, and even got accepted by a few. But they always got cold feet a day or two before the wedding, and it was bye-bye Bobby.

After the third time, Bobby was mighty discouraged, and his Pa felt real sore for him. They worked together in the family grocery store, and Bobby would sometimes sit on top of the pickle barrel and tell his Pa all his woes. And his Pa told him to hang in there, because a nice lady was on her way. Neither of them believed it, but it made both of them feel better to hear it said. Well, the day after their latest talk, the old woman who poled her barge through the swamp to deliver milk and eggs to the grocery store had a long talk with Bobby’s Pa. Seems she had this daughter who was hankering after a husband with a good steady job, and the old woman thought Bobby would do the job nicely. She suggested they introduce the pair at the next dance, and Bobby’s Pa agreed.

The night of the dance, Bobby’s Pa insisted that his son dress in his best. Bobby was dragging his feet a little, remembering all those women who played him false and not wanting to go, but his Pa dragged him out anyway. Well, the moment Bobby clapped eyes on the dark-eyed, red-lipped girl from the swamp, he was head over heels in love. Her eyes sparkled like the sunlight on the bay. Her skin was as creamy as new milk. Her voice was low and sweet.

The pair cuddled and cooed and waltzed the whole night long, and come sunrise Bobby was all for bringing his new love before the visiting priest who delivered his sermons in the grocery store (since there weren’t no church in that vicinity) and getting married right away. Well the girl was willing to get married, but not by a priest.

“Let’s just go to Beaumont and have the judge marry us,” she said to Bobby, and he was so smitten he agreed, though it would have been quicker and easier to just walk a mile down the road to see the priest.

By the next evening they were wed, and Bobby brought his pretty bride to the nice little cottage he rented just down the road from the family grocery. It had a nice front porch with a swing, a big bedroom on the second floor and a big attic with a window that could be made up into a second guestroom should his new mother-in-law care to visit from her home in the swamp.

After fixing him a nice dinner, Bobby’s new bride sat awhile in the rocking chair near their bed while Bobby yawned and watched her fondly. She cuddled under the blanket and knitted and hummed, and Bobby’s eyes grew heavy. He didn’t wake up until early morning, when his new bride crept into bed all hot and sweaty and fell asleep at once. When he asked her where she’d been, she wouldn’t answer him. Bobby was mighty sore that his bride had snuck out on him on their wedding night, but when she got snappish and her eyes blazed like they did when he questioned her, he grew frightened and backed down.

Life took on an odd pattern for Bobby. During the day, everything was perfect. His wife was sweet and pretty and loving. She kept the house sparkling clean and cooked him wonderful meals. But each night she refused to come to bed after supper. Like their wedding night, she sat up singing and rocking and knitting until he was asleep and did not come to bed til just afore dawn. She was always sweaty and cranky when she came to bed, and went to sleep before Bobby could question her.

Bobby was very confused and upset by this behavior, and finally confided in his Pa one morning after opening up the grocery store. Bobby’s Pa was awful worried. The visiting priest had gone on to his next parish, and there was no one they could consult but the local conjure woman. So he sent Bobby to her with a couple of chickens as a gift.

The conjure woman knew all about hoodoo magic and was an excellent herbalist. Local folks went to her when they were sick, on account of the doctor lived nigh on twenty miles away. When she heard Bobby’s story, she told him to pretend to go to sleep that night and watch what his new bride did. Then he was to come back and tell her everything. Bobby agreed.

The next evening, he pretended to fall asleep while his bride rocked and sang in her chair. Then he followed her up to the attic and watched through the crack in the open door as she sat down at the spinning wheel and spun off her skin, leaving only pulsing red muscles and blue veins. She was a terrifying sight and she sprang through the window and flew away into the night. Bobby ran out to the privy and was sick after he saw her. Who, what was this monster he had married? He was still trembling and in shock when his bride, looking like a normal person again, crept into bed at dawn, and he had trouble behaving normally at breakfast.


Part 2: Video created by a Reader
As soon as he could get away, Bobby ran to the home of the conjure woman and told her about the spinning wheel and the terrible skinless creature who flew away from his attic. “A boo-hag,” the conjure woman said at once. “You’ve married a boo-hag.”

“What’s a boo-hag?” asked Bobby. “A Boo Hag is a witch and a shape-shifter,” said the conjure woman. “She lures men into her trap and then delivers them to her Boo-Daddy, who eats their flesh and gnaws their bones. And that’s what she’ll do to you if you don’t get rid of her first.”

The conjure woman told Bobby to get himself some blue paint. As soon as the boo-hag left the house that night, he was to spread blue paint on every window frame and every door frame and make sure it was two coats thick. A boo-hag couldn’t fly through a window or door that was painted blue. And if she didn’t get back into her skin before dawn, she would be trapped without it, and be revealed for the monster she was. So he was to leave one tiny window unpainted, and keep it open a sliver so the boo-hag could squeeze through. Then he was to fill up her skin with salt and pepper, which would burn her up from the inside out. And Bobby promised to do exactly as the conjure woman said.

That night, Bobby lingered over his dinner, looking with sad eyes at the pretty woman sitting opposite him. He knew she was really a monster inside, but it was so nice to have a little wife in his home. He hated like anything to see her go. But he didn’t want to get eaten by a Boo-Daddy, and that was his fate if she stayed. So he went up to their bedroom and pretended to fall asleep while she rocked and sang and knitted. Then he followed her quietly upstairs and put salt and pepper into her skin after her ugly red-muscled blue-veined figure had flown out the window to her Boo-Daddy. He spent the rest of the night painting over every door and window frame with blue paint, leaving only one small unpainted window open in the cellar. He nailed it up so that it would open no further than a crack, just as the conjure woman instructed him. Then he hid himself behind a large chest of drawers up in the attic to wait for the boo-hag.

Just before dawn, the boo-hag came flying up to the attic window. As soon as she touched the blue frame, she gave a shriek of pain and rage. Bobby listened as she flew around the house, testing each window and door and howling like a banshee when it burned her skinless hands. Then she found the little window in the cellar, and he heard the thump as she landed beside it, followed by a painful whimpering sound as she squeezed and squeezed herself through the narrow opening, her skinless red muscles and blue veins tearing painfully against the rough wood.

The boo-hag ran up three flights of stairs into the attic and squeezed and squeezed into her skin as fast as she could. She just barely got it on when the first light of dawn shone over the horizon. And that was when the salt and pepper did their work, burning the boo-hags body from the inside out. With a scream of agony, she flung herself out the attic window. The glass shattered everywhere as she tried to fly away, tearing at the skin to get it off. But it was too late. She exploded into tiny pieces right over the swamp, and the alligators had them a mighty feast of cooked boo-hag for breakfast that morning.

So Bobby was once again without a wife. But bachelorhood looked much better to him after that, and he never went looking for a wife again. ‘Course, after he made a pile of money in oil, the girls started chasing him. But that’s another story!

Burbank Dreams

I was staying at a friends house a few years ago, and the electric energy from the old home really got to me. I had visions all night long of that area coming alive and progressing from about 1845 to modern day. There was a peace treaty signed between the Calvary and the Native Americans to start out with in my dreams. Then it went on through history and I saw the town around there begin to develop. I witnessed an old fashioned Spanish wedding out in a field not far from the home I was in around 1890.

A cemetary was formed near there between 1915 and 1920, but before that the large field was used for filming a couple of silent movies.

Life progressed, the river changed course, the children grew up, and then there was a hanging around 1920 in a large oak tree out in the middle of the field next to the new cemetary. The children I watched grow up had kids of their own and they in turn grew up. More people moved to the area and the buildings began to pop up all around, including the house I was staying in. The oak tree where I witnessed the hanging was struck by lightening and through several years the stump stood jagged on the hill side before someone started to take pieces of it appart for firewood. Kids would go and play on that stump.

Finally around 1960 a bull dozer came by and pulled it out to make way for an area they would be turning into an addition to the nearby cemetary.

The cars would change every time I blinked, and the lines of traffic would fade in and out of the daylight as the days passed in seconds. Finally the time began to slow, and I could clearly see my own car sitting outside, the dawn creeping up over the horizon. In what had to be only an hour or so, I had lived for more than a century.

There was something that stuck with me through that dream, though... something I have promised to go back and investigate. There was one family in particular that never left the area. Someone that I watched from 1890 all the way through modern day had relatives that always stayed at the same plot of land. The house has changed since then, but the land and it's occupants have always remained within the family.

Was it just a dream?
Is there any way I could have been right about this?

Purpose

I was awe struck as I walked into my little appartment last night. I had just climbed out of the shower and was going to settle into bed to read for a while before drifting off to strange and erratic dreams when I heard a noise below. The cats were settling in to bed. The lights outside filtered through the wooden slats covering the window, eluminating the room with a pleasant, faint glow. I couldn't help but to smile, remembering fondly the wonderful memories I've already made in that room with my own friends and lovely little pets.

I climbed down from the loft to fetch myself a bottle of water. I walked through my very own living room and saw the computer on the desk still open to a project for work. I had managed to feel highly successful yesterday in the mid-year meeting and was ready to attack my job with a new sense of purpose and determination. My smile grew for reasons I couldn't yet share. Oliver jumped down from his carpeted tree and nuzzled my bare leg.


I've been in some hard spots, and I've had a really hard time trying to find my place in this world. Even now it's a daily struggle for me, but I know where I'm meant to be. I know what I want to do for my career, and getting there has been a challenge, it's one I'm eager to face every day when I wake up. I look forward to going in to work. Even now that path isn't guaranteed, but I know that I'm well on my way and I have a support system greater than any I've ever known. And yet, as I walked through the appartment last night, I realized something that maybe I had known all along and just hadn't realized.

I have my home. It's the first time I've felt like I belonged somewhere and had my own place in my entire life. I belong here. This is my sanity, my safety, and my savior. My career has just begun and I have great plans for my direction, but I have everything in my life that I've ever really searched for - stability, self-sufficiency and confidence.

This was an eye opening walk through my own place. I found something in the past year I guess I never really lost - my inspiration and my soul. They've just been waiting for me to realize that all I had to do was reach out for them, held captive in the recesses of my own mind. If not for people like my boss, friends and co-workers who have stood by me in this most difficult time, I may never have taken this walk to the kitchen on this warm and humid night in my house coat and slippers and seen the magic of my own home around me. I wouldn't have that glorious appartment. I wouldn't have my two cats, warm and friendly, loving and giving. I wouldn't be where I am in this world, with dreams, desires and determination to not only succeed, but to conquer.

Yes, I am still me. I am that vibrant, energetic little girl I knew growing up. I'm that sassy, somewhat crazy redhead I knew in my teens. I'm that young, ambitious adult I knew in my early 20's who saw the world as nothing but a game to win. I'M BACK, and nothing can stop me this time.

My job has opened new doors to meeting new people and trying new things. I've become more empowered than ever before, and after so many years of searching and never knowning, I've found my niche. I've found where I belong.

I've finally found my purpose.

Life in the Jungle Part 2

(Part one can be found here)

I struggled to make ends meet. I worked hard and sacrificed every ounce of personal life in order to pay my bills and keep Oliver and myself fed, even if it was on Ramen Noodles. Much to the chagrin of some people around me, I would work 12 hour days 5 days a week when asked, never so much as a hint of hesitation in my voice. I would jump at the chance to see a better pay check, knowing that if I could make just a little more money, I could move up to Hot Dogs and frozen Pot Pies. On the biggest paycheck I ever got durring that time, I even bought a small pint of Ben and Jerrys Ice Cream, certainly a luxury in those days.


I missed having a bath tub and brushing my teeth over a sink. I missed having an air conditioner on the hot days and a heater on the cold days. I missed having a door knob on the inside of my door. I missed having carpet under my feet, new sheets, fluffy pillows, clean laundry and real food. All of the things I missed just drove me to work harder though. On my days off, I found myself at a loss for something to do. I would watch TV for a bit, write for a while, and stay walled up in the boat house all day long. I couldn't afford the gas to go anywhere. I didn't have any nice clothes anymore after being robbed. The one great thing about working at my job was the lack of choices over what to wear. I had a uniform I wore daily and I was ok with that. It took out the embarassment of having to wear the same jeans and T-shirt day in and day out for weeks at a time. I had a severe lack of options only 7 months ago.


I vowed the day I saw someone cry over how I brushed my teeth over the toilet that I would make some changes to my life, and the goal I had set before myself was my 30th birthday, December 11th of last year. I made that goal in Mid-October. Through a lot of hard work, determination, perseverance and the friends I made along the way, I not only reached my goal, but blew it out of the water.


I managed to get a promotion to being Supervisor at work. With that promotion and meager raise, I was able to start looking for a new place to live. I couldn't afford much more than I already paid, though. Still, on a strict budget and tight belt, I could afford a place of my own in a nicer neighborhood. Luckily I had worked very hard over the past few years to clean up my credit, or even that wouldn't have been possible.


By November 15th I had signed a lease on an apartment in one of the nicest areas in all of Los Angeles County, a little place called Belmont Shore. I went from living in South Central to living at the beach, so close I could smell the salt spray as I slept. I didn't officially move in until the end of November, but I finally had a nice home.


It was a tiny apartment, and I knew right off the bat I was going to have a hard time making ends meet each month. I knew the lack of funds would prevent me from having an eventful Christmas, and one thing after another came up causing me to delay the Christmas shopping I had planned to do using my one credit card. Life kept getting in the way, and work WAS life. I was putting in as many hours as I could get away with just in order to pay my bills.



I lived out of piles of boxes heaped in my new living room floor for weeks, hardly able to find a clean shirt or fresh pair of socks among the candles, cables and clutter tossed among the cardboard walls. I slept on a blanket tossed on the floor, but it was a carpeted floor and to some degree was more comfortable than the bed I had been borrowing - because it was MINE. Finally, a week after my 30th birthday I had managed to save enough money to buy a dresser at Ikea. I stayed up until 3:00 am putting it together. I unpacked before work the next day, working as hard as ever to get things in order.


Though I expected absolutely nothing for Christmas, Karma has always had a way of catching up to me, good or bad. I had focused so hard through the past 6 months to do better for myself that I had failed to realize that I was making friends along the way. All I could think of was providing a roof over my own head, taking better care of the Cat and never having to spit into a toilet again.


I wouldn't say it really began raining gifts or anything, but a few surprises certainly had a way of making me feel that way. First there was my Uncle Roger. After many years of not hearing from him, he got in touch with me and we started communicating through emails, daily. He told me things about my family I never would have known without him. I now have a photo of my Grandmother and Grandfather on their wedding day I don't think I had ever seen before. As if that wasn't gift enough, suddenly I got a birthday card in the mail from this long lost Uncle, making me feel overjoyed that someone was thinking about me. My Uncle has since grown to be one of the many voices I look towards for an honest opinion and a kind word when I need them most.


People who knew me well knew that I didn't lock the doors to my car because of an odd distrust in society. I would have rather had a thief open the door and realize there's nothing worth stealing than leaving me with the cost of fixing a broken window only to come to the same conclusion. I never kept anything of value in my car whatsoever, so I didn't even worry about locking the trunk release inside the cab of the car most of the time. Someone who knew me very well took advantage of this. One day after work I went to throw my backpack in the trunk of my car only to suddenly be left gasping for air. Someone anonymous had placed a 20" LCD Flat screen 1080P HiDef TV in the trunk of my car with a pretty little gift receipt. I almost cried. In fact, I'm not ashamed to admit that I think I did cry on the way home.



A few days later, on the 21st of December, I was promoted at work AGAIN to being the Head Honcho on site. Suddenly I could loosen my belt a single notch and I knew without a doubt that I would be ok. I had worked hard, but I had gotten what I needed and wanted in order to survive. It couldn't have come at a better time. It still took a little time for that last raise to hit my checks, but I knew it was on its way. The promotion was exactly what I had wanted for Christmas. Thanks, Santa.


On the morning of December 23rd I was called to the main office at the end of my shift. The Office personnel had drawn numbers to select which baskets of food and treats they would take home to their families from the many gifts they had received. The three left over were given to me, the Maintenance guy and the head of Housekeeping. I chose the Belgium Chocolates, of course, though not for myself. I instantly had a plan for them.


That night, on the night of Christmas Eve, I went down to Lake Elsinore to spend the evening with a wonderful Dutch family that took me in completely. They were such wonderful people with huge American Bulldogs as lap-dogs. Even the dogs took me in. I felt instantly loved. They were so wonderful to invite me into their home on Christmas Eve and let me stay the night, since I didn't have any family around and didn't have to work until the afternoon on Christmas. I had decided to give up my Christmas night in order to let more of my employees enjoy the Holiday. Karma again. That night after we sat down to eat, Lou asked me if I wanted to open my gifts. Flabbergasted, I stuttered and sputtered, obviously not knowing what to say. I felt bad for only having brought the small box of Belgium Chocolates I was regifting.


I didn't know or care what this family had gotten for me - just to know they loved me that much sent me over the edge. It had been one of the hardest years I'd ever had to survive, and to come out on the other end like this didn't seem possible back in July. My entire life had changed in the matter of 5 months. Most of it I made happen, but certain things, like me sitting there with four dogs at my feet holding two brightly wrapped gifts of blue and gold in my lap, were completely a surprise and never were a part of the plan. Tears were brimming in my eyes.


At the urging of my small audience of Lou and Gabe with the four dogs, I opened the big one first. It was large enough to fit all the way across my lap and cover my legs entirely. I pulled the bright blue paper back to reveal a cardboard box underneath. I expected the gift to not be what I saw on the box until I noticed that the box was still sealed. It was a brand new Blu-Ray player, Wireless capable and played regular DVDs as well. I couldn’t contain it any longer. I didn’t let either Gabe or Lou see me, but I cried.


Remember I said there was a second gift? Lou and I had been walking through a Borders just a few days before Christmas, browsing. I wanted to show Lou the Art Book I used to have that went the way of the U-Haul back in July. I guess the excitement showed all over my face when I talked about one particular portrait in the book that I had fallen in love with as I was reading the book from cover to cover.



“What makes this one so special”, Lou told me “is that it’s the exact one we were looking at in the store.” Lou had gone back that night and bought the book. It had been the only one on the shelf at that Borders, and the only one I had seen since I began looking for it in July. Lou had asked me that night if I wanted it and I answered that it cost too much and that I could wait. Well, Merry Christmas to me, here it was resting in my hands. I instantly turned to the page with that portrait I so loved, the Arnolfini Portrait by Jan Van Eyck.


The same man I tried so hard to escape from in Prague invited me over shortly after Christmas for dinner. It was a wonderful evening I was able to spend with a dear friend I've known since October of 2002. Bill's always been good to me, even when I least deserved it. He presented me with two gifts, both of which I cherish. The first was a fabulous book entitled "1001 Paintings To See Before You Die" that I began reading cover to cover that evening. The second gift was a watch to replace the one he gave me so many years ago. It was a gorgeous blue faced Seiko 100M watch with diamonds around the face. I nearly cried when I opened it. I wanted another watch since the one he had given to me was in the Uhaul, but never did I imagine something so beautiful. On the back was an inscription I still look at each time I take off my watch. It reminds me of how well he knows me and how much he has always cared for me.

"Always, B"

The greatest gift I got this past Christmas season wasn’t something I could hold in my hands though. It wasn’t the beautiful card that was so personal and sweet from Lou. It’s wasn’t the Blu-Ray player to go with the “mysterious” TV or the wonderful Christmas Dinner left over’s that an employee brought with him to work for me on Christmas night, though that was the first home cooked meal I'd had in months. It wasn't the beautiful watch with the dark blue face. It wasn’t the new apartment, though I admit it was just what I wanted. It wasn’t even the promotion. The greatest gift I was given this season was just this:


Christmas Eve, I sat there at a table with a warm and loving family; Stefan, Vicky, Lou and Gabe – four wonderful people. Under us sat the dogs; Spot, Mugsy, Tyson and Sasha. I was warm, loved, and accepted by a family who didn’t know much about me and didn’t care about that tiny detail. Before we picked up the first bite of food, I followed suit when the family bowed their heads to pray. Sitting between Vicky and Lou, I smiled. I hadn’t said a prayer over food with a family in far too long to remember. Right then, as I searched for the words to explain in a prayer just what I was feeling, I knew that no words were needed. The prayer was not ever in the words, but in the heart behind them. The greatest gift last Christmas Season was that family and the kindness and love they shared with me. The greatest gift of the year was having people who love me there to share in that moment. It was a long drive to Lake Elsinore for Christmas Eve, but it’s a drive I would make a million times over just to relive that night.



It was the greatest Christmas I had ever known.


I’m not big on prayer or waiting to see what happens after a prayer is uttered, but the final gift I will write about today is the gift that I give to each of you.



For in that moment of clarity and thought filled emotion, I thought about all of you out there who helped me to survive this past year. There are some of you I don’t see eye-to-eye with except maybe once a decade. There are those of you I can’t seem to disagree with at any point. There are people who love me and who hate me, who like and dislike me, and who have no reason to pay any attention to me whatsoever. Still, those are the people who helped me to survive.


I thought about the young mother cradling a new baby in her arms, wrapped up in the stolen quilt my Grandmother had made for me. I thought about the guy next door who warned me that the street sweepers were coming and I needed to move my car so I didn’t get a ticket. I thought about the families in South Central who watched over me, making sure I had food. I thought about the boss that believed in me, the friend who helped me move, the people I've loved and those who loved me. I thought about the man I once called a friend. I thought about my wonderful Uncle Roger, my Aunt Debbie who put us in touch, my brother, my son, my father and mother, and even those dogs under the table keeping my feet warm.


May you all have the clarity throughout the coming years that I had in that moment, sitting at that table with my head bowed, thinking about each of you and what you’ve meant to me and to others. I wish you nothing but prosperity and good will for the glorious future to come. May you shine as brightly as a star even on the worst of days and may you never loose hope. If ever you do, just think back to how much this one person’s life changed in the mere matter of five months. I may have lost everything back in April only to loose more in July, but it gave me the will to fight back and survive, an survive I did!


YOU are and were my inspiration. May you always have your inspiration like you’ve provided to those around you.

Life in the Jungle Part 1

here are certain things in this modern age that we take for granted. For the majority of people, these would be things like friendship and family. Though I'm certainly guilty of both of those, there are some things that my eyes were opened to as recently as last November. I never realized certain things were luxury items. Only a little more than a hundred years ago people lived with far worse conditions than what I lived with just before Thanksgiving of last year. Though it seems so trivial in so many aspects, how did people survive without indoor plumbing? It certainly had to be uncomfortable, but it was a way of life back then and something they were used to, not something out of the ordinary as it would be today.


On October 6th f last year, I moved in to a place on the spur of the moment. I needed somewhere to go and a friend of mine was able to help me out. His family had a room I could take, and were more than willing to help me out in any way they could. There were a few minor things that most people would likely have a heart attack over, but for me I saw it as a challenge, and something I could claim as my own. Realistically I moved for my cat. I needed a place where I could keep him with me always, and they were ok with me having a pet. With my extremely limited funds and them not asking for a deposit, it was a match made in heaven.

It was an interesting place, and when I first moved in I saw it as an adventure. I have always had a hard time turning down an adventure. Sure, there was no bath tub, and the bathroom was separate from my room so I had to get dressed to go outside and down the alley to my bathroom, but it was MY bathroom and I loved it. My feet were in the shower if I was sitting on the toilet, and my only door on my bathroom was a dolphin printed shower curtain, but it was all mine and nobody else ever used it that I was aware of. I could put all my shampoo and conditioner and smelly, girly stuff in there without worry that someone else would move it, use it or take it.

My room was tiny and I didn’t have anything when I moved in after I was robbed just last July of my U-haul while I slept. I didn’t have a bed or much of anything else even then, but what I had when I moved in to my new place in South Central Los Angeles, otherwise known as The Jungle, was even less. The people of the main house, my landlords, treated me as they would a family member down on their luck. They loaned me a bed WITH bedding, a TV, cable box, microwave and even a fridge. I couldn’t believe my luck for the peanuts I would have to pay monthly. It was so very much for so little asked of me.

Simple rules like “no parties” only endeared the place to me even more. In my first few days there the weather was nice. I would often sit in the hammock by the pool and read, or shoot a few games on the pool table. Late at night when I had phone calls I would sit on the steps to the Jacuzzi back by the Persimmon and Lime trees just over by the diving board for the pool. I had a swim suit or two. I had plans to put the pool to good use, and just didn’t get around to it before the weather turned cool. The lady of the house loved plants, so the yard was wall-to-wall beautiful green. It was my own tropical oasis on the other side of my little iron fortress. My cat, Oliver would trill at me when he saw me coming. It was always a pleasant homecoming.

When it was nice weather out, showers were an absolute pleasure. I would take the thick, oversized zebra stripe bathrobe I purchased for $2.99 at Goodwill to the outdoor bathroom with me. There I would close my dolphin-printed plastic door, strip down while avoiding the prospect of facing the shower curtain that divided me from the outside world due to the blank spaces in it, and step into the shower. The water would take a moment to warm up, but when it did it stayed fairly warm for a while unless someone was washing dishes or clothes in the main house. There were times when the shift from too hot went to ice within seconds, and I’m sure the neighbors heard me squealing a time or two. By the time I got out my robe was half wet and the floor even behind the toilet was drenched, but I had a little pink towel they let me borrow to dry my hair with. I would hang it by the doorway when I was done and wander back with my arms loaded down, wearing that zebra striped robe and fuzzy slippers. I would walk down the alley by the side of the house, ducking if someone was in the kitchen or one of the two bedroom windows I would pass on the way back to my room.

When the weather was warm, I would often sleep with my door open and the screen closed, since I didn’t have any windows for ventilation. As the weather changed though, that changed too. I couldn’t stand the cold. The only blankets I had were the ones loaned to me, with the ivy printed sheets and matching comforter, rather old and thin. There was no heater and no air conditioner in my room, so when the weather changed I often got the worst of it. Still, I didn’t complain. It was Ollie and me all the way. If I wanted things to change, I would have to do that myself.

In the mornings I was met with a new challenge. I was too broke to buy food, so all the food I had was dry-storage items like Ramen noodles from the dollar store. They fed me for quite a while. Certain people got rather sick of hearing how I ate Ramen all the time and started to chide me for it. I made so many promises to eat better, but until recently I wasn’t able to. I continued with my dry storage items, eating only what I could afford and never straying outside of my budget of $40 a month on food, barely more than a dollar a day. Ramen fit that budget perfectly, since at the dollar store they’re usually 4 for $1.00 or there about. Breakfast tended to be one Dollar Store granola bar in the morning. Brushing my teeth was yet another adventure.

You may have noticed that I didn’t mention how the sink in my bathroom was positioned. There’s a very good reason for that actually. I didn’t have one. That sounds odd, but until you are in the situation of not having a sink, you’ll never understand fully what this was like for me. Washing my face had to be in the shower, so I didn’t do it three times a day anymore. Washing my hands was the same way. I would have to hide behind the shower curtain and reach around it if I wanted to wash my hands without getting drenched. Often I was soaked head to toe afterwards anyway. But how does one fill their mouth to rinse after brushing without a sink? Once done rinsing the mouth, where does the spit go? Down the shower drain? I've had a few interesting stories about toothbrushes, but nothing like I was about to encounter.

I bought a case of water at the Dollar Store. The water where I live is so bad it’s a necessity anyway. I would grab a bottle of water in the mornings and take it with me to the bathroom. There I would grab my tooth brush from it’s place laying on top of my bath towel and hold it out over the toilet. I would pour some water from my bottle onto the tooth brush, letting the excess fall into the commode. Then I would apply the tooth paste and brush the way any normal person would – except I would be on my knees in front of the toilet. One day a friend came over and was chatting with me when I said I had to go brush my teeth. Thinking nothing of it because it had become almost routine to me and rather comical in my mind, I saw nothing wrong with my morning ritual. When I finished brushing and spit into the toilet, rinsed with my bottled water and spit again, it seemed almost natural in a very unnatural way. It wasn’t until I looked up and saw the tears standing in my friends eyes that I realized just how far I had fallen from regular society. Here I was on my knees in front of a toilet in the back yard of a total strangers house brushing my teeth, feeling like this was ok, or even half way normal. What had become of me?

As so many of you know, life hasn’t always been easy for me. I’ve had my fair share of struggles, and I keep on fighting. I was too embarrassed to share this story with anyone for quite a while, but I write in order to share my stories. It's time I share this one. I had hoped to move again before my 30th birthday on December 11th. I wanted an indoor bathroom with a sink. At this point a tub wasn’t even a priority, though in the past it always had been. It would have been nice, but just so long as I had a sink I’d be happy. I just had to somehow save up for a deposit on a place before then. With winter coming quickly, finding a warm place to sleep and a indoor shower was a major priority.

It wasn't forever, but it was my life only 6 months ago. It wasn't the end, but it was far from the beginning. Even now, I continue to grow and learn, being humbled more and more each time I think I’m untouchable.

If you think this can’t happen to you, think again. It can happen to any of us. Good or bad, high or low, young or old, we all hit hard times in our lives. There are some people out there in far worse shape than I was. I at least had a roof over my head and my lovely Oliver. I still had people who loved and cared for me. In that respect, even then I had it all.

Things did get better, but it all started with me.

TO BE CONTINUED....
(Click here for Part 2)

No Drama, Kay?

A few years ago now while I was living in San Pedro, I got to know a few neighbors. One couple was an East Indian man of the Priest class and his American wife who adored him. Ravi and Christine (Chris for short) were two of the sweetest people I had ever met.



Ravi's family lived in London and he had a niece that was supposed to come visit. He asked me if I could possibly take her out with me one night and have some fun with her, since he was pretty sure she would feel stuffy hanging out with "old people" in their 40's the whole two weeks. I agreed, but I didn't quite get around to it right away. I may have mentioned in a previous post or two, but I'm at times painfully shy.



Finally Ravi and Chris invited me to go to Downtown Los Angeles to the shopping district with them. As we walked from tent vendor to vendor, past rows of flowers and carpet and fabric and clothes and knock-off watches, Kay and I walked side by side talking the whole way. She was as shy as I was, but about 5'9" and just beautiful. She had a lovely smile and a laugh that brightened every one's day. She was a lovely person inside and out. Her coal black eyes sparkled and shined. She looked every bit like a model with long, beautiful curly hair and a tiny frame. She had a very full and pouty mouth that most men went Ga-ga for. It didn't go unnoticed in Los Angeles that day. She was a lot of fun to be around, for a multitude of reasons.




The next day the family went to Disney Land and I was invited. I rode the rides side by side with Kay. Often she would reach out and grab my hand during a scary part of the ride. We rode in the same seat on the Matterhorn. We shot the bad guys in the Buzz Lightyear ride, and we had identical scores. She held tight around my neck when the boat plummeted in Pirates and she held my hand tightly during every twist and turn in Indiana Jones. By the end of the day we were as close as I've ever been with another girl.




Ravi had planned to take us to California Adventures the following day, but he and Chris had other things they had to do. Instead, they gave us the passes and I drove us out to Disney Land again. We had a blast, just she and I. We wandered all over the park, going from one ride to the next, feeding the ducks and talking to strangers. I took a ton of pictures of her as she tried on nearly every hat at the cart vendor. The one with the Minnie Mouse ears was the cutest one on her. She even talked me into something I never thought I would do with my insane fear of glass elevators. She got me on the Tower of Terror. I screamed my head off and nearly had a heart attack. I swore to never do it again, but I did it the one time just for her. Strangers offered to take pictures of us together. She took pictures of me on the rides and I took pictures of her jumping off of the benches in mid air. She bought me lunch and I threatened to do serious damage to a man who grabbed her bottom. It was possibly one of the best days I've ever had with a girl friend. In the matter of three days time, I grew to love Kay like she was a member of my own family. I even asked her to be my Maid of Honor if Pete and I ever got engaged. She was the sister I never had.



"I'd love to meet some American guy out here so I could get married and move to California. Then we could be together all the time!" My heart soared when she said that in her lovely London lilt. She had grown to love me, too.



That night when we got back to Ravi's house, we decided we would go to my favorite little Tiki bar in Long Beach, called Puka Bar (710 East Willow, Long Beach) and went to our prospective places to change for the night out. Chris made us a quick snack of some Indian delicacy I devoured and we showed the photos from the day to Chris and Ravi. Kay took the camera back and said "I don't really like this one picture."



"Don't erase it," Ravi told her. "We can erase it on the computer."



"Oh, Uncle," she said, "I really hate this one. Let me just erase this one." To her credit, she was making a terrible face in that one photo. She tapped a button or two and then stared at the camera with an open mouth, almost frightened. "Oh, Uncle! I think I did something wrong!"



"You erased them all, didn't you?" Ravi looked at her without a hint of surprise. Somehow he had known she was going to do that exact thing.

"I didn't mean to!" She bit her lower lip.



"That was irresponsible of you, Kay! Those weren't just your pictures, those were hers, too!" Ravi indicated towards me while he yelled at her. She ran to her room in tears.

"She meant to," he told me. "Don't let those little crocodile tears fool you, 'Manda."



I couldn't understand why Ravi would believe she had done it on purpose. I felt awkward and foolish sitting there, so I excused myself and went home to change into a dress. We had decided to dress to the 9's that night, just for the fun of it. When she came out in the little black dress she had picked for the evening, I was amazed. I knew she was lovely, but to be that stunning and NOT be a model should have been a crime.



On the way to Puka Bar, I made a phone call to a friend of Pete's. I told Mike that we were headed out for a drink and that he should come along. He'd been working and studying so hard lately that he hadn't had time to relax. I thought it would be a good evening for him - and I knew he was single. I should have known better than to try to set him up with Kay, though. Every couple I've ever set up on a date or even a meeting have always gotten married. Some people would say that's a good record... but they all ended up divorced, too. That's not such a good record.


"Manda," Kay said to me as we sat on bar stools side by side, "sometimes I get very stupid when I drink alcohol," she smiled. "Promise me you'll watch me like a sister would and you won't let me do something stupid."



"Kay, I promise I will take care of you like a sister," I said and she kissed me on the cheek. I whipped out my cell phone and took a quick snap shot of the moment, completely enjoying it for what it was worth. I'd never known anyone like Kay and I felt that I had found a Kindred Spirit of sorts. It's not easy for me to get close to people, and with her it was so instant I knew it was meant to happen.



We were inseparable that night - all the way up until Mike walked through the door of the Puka Bar. Kay thought he was adorable with the two inches she had on him in height. He wasn't exactly and ugly guy, either. They actually made quite a cute couple! The two of them leaned over me to talk to one another for a while before finally I stepped back and let things take their natural course.



Kay went home with Mike that night. I protested, I told Pete that I shouldn't have let it happen, and I was combated with lines of "She knows what she's doing, she's a big girl" and the like. Conscience got the better of me and I threatened to go check on her.



I was told not to.
I did as I was told.

Kay was on Cloud 9 the entire next day. She was leaving in a few days and I had to go to work, but we began emailing back and forth a lot. I went over each day after work and spent time with Kay and Chris. We would arrange flowers and chat and cook together. We would have hours of conversation talking about childhood and ex-boyfriends. I'd never known what that was like before Kay. She even told me (in secrecy) that Mike hadn't even tried anything with her, but rather just held on to her all night long and cuddled. I believed her. I was stupid.



When she left for the air port, I rode with them. After only a few days of knowing one another, we said a very tearful good bye and I bid her a safe flight home. I cried for a while in the car and Chris cried with me. Ravi drove, but I swore I could see a tear in his eye from the rear view mirror as we pulled away from the terminal.

We emailed back and forth for a while. I missed her like crazy. Already it seemed like a part of me was missing if she wasn't there. I truly had grown to love her like a sister in such a short period of time. I would have given anything to have her stay forever, but I knew that wouldn't happen.

"You have to tell me," she said in an email one day, "if Mike is being good. I trust you to be honest with me," she explained. "He and I decided to try a long distance relationship, and I know you won't let me down."

True to my word, I told her if he was and wasn't being good. Nobody understood why I did it, but when Mike reconciled with his pot smoking ex-girlfriend, I told Kay. They had a big fight, Mike never trusted me again, and Pete was very angry at me over the whole thing. It got to the point where Mike and I eventually had words over the whole thing and I nearly bit his head off. I'm an incredibly patient person, but he more than pushed me to the limit and I tore him a new one right in front of Ravi one day. Ravi, not known for brief visits, turned and fled in a hurry.



Kay emailed me a few more times and told me that she and Mike had decided to be friends, nothing more. She said she was thinking about coming back for another visit in a month or so, and that she would love to see me. I told her I couldn't wait to see her again!



That was the last I heard from her until 2 months later there was a knock on my door. I threw on some clothes and waded through the disaster we had from just moving into our new house to get to the front door. There was Kay and Chris. I didn't even notice the changes at first. I just saw Kay standing on my front porch and ran to hug her. I closed the door behind me on the way out, completely embarrassed by the mess in the living room.



Her nose was pierced. Her hair was shorter. Her NOSE was shorter. Her boobs were bigger. My God, this wasn't Kay - this was a shadow of the Kay I knew! I didn't care... Kay was Kay and I loved her no matter what she looked like. I missed the old Kay though - but I wouldn't dare ever tell her that. I wouldn't hurt her for anything in the world.



I told them I would come over in a little while, but I needed to get showered and dressed. Kay was insulted that I didn't invite her in, and they left feeling very disappointed. I never knew that until months later.



I knew Kay would be with Mike a lot. I knew they were more than "just friends" as she had said in her email to me. Mike and Pete were friends, it didn't take much for me to learn everything about Kay's visit, if I wanted to know or not. I sent Kay an email one day and tried to make peace.



"Kay," I said to her, "Mike doesn't like me very much and I don't want to crowd your time with him, so if there's ever a day you guys don't have plans, just let me know and I'll take you to do something fun, just the two of us."



"We're just friends," was her only response. I wrote her off that exact moment. I couldn't understand why Kay would feel the need to lie to me when I was the one who set them up in the first place. I wanted her to end up getting married to an American guy and moving to California every bit as much as she did. She had burned me though. She lied to me. I wouldn't put up with it, and I stopped trying to contact her. She never emailed me again.



Two weeks later Mike and Kay were married before the Justice of the Peace. Pete and I were not invited or even told about the wedding.


I missed Kay terribly.



But I don't put up with that kind of drama. I won't have lies told to me by someone I trust with my heart. I have NO DRAMA in my life. If that meat writing Kay off completely in spite of how much it hurt to do so, then I did what I had to do.



Ravi and Chris wouldn't talk to me for a long time after I wrote Kay off like that. Pete couldn't understand my rationality. People wondered if I were that flippant with all of my friends. I was called cold, calloused, mean spirited, heartless, and countless other words I'd rather not be associated with... but I knew what was right.




She's done some stupid things since then and tried to get Mike into a lot of trouble over a turbulent marriage. She's claimed Domestic Violence and had his badge taken away from him. She filed a police report stating that he held a gun to her head. Mike was arrested for that one, though it never actually happened. For weeks the drama filled the house, causing heart burn between Pete and myself. He would constantly come in with some new drama about Kay and Mike that he either heard from Ravi or from work. Finally I got sick of it. I couldn't take it anymore. I set forth a rule - I didn't want to hear their names mentioned again. Ever. She hurt me more than I ever knew was possible. I never trusted ANYONE like I had trusted Kay, and in such a short amount of time.



I'm pretty sure they're divorced now and she's probably gone back to England... but if she came knocking on my door tomorrow I would love her all the same. I would never trust her the same way, but I'll always love Kay.




Kay - if you're out there - I still love you.






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