"WOW! What the hell was that?" The first words out of my mouth on my first night in NYC. I was staying at the Warwick Hotel. The history of this hotel is rather fascinating to me as I am a huge Hearst Fan.
In 1926, William Randolph Hearst commissioned this hotel/apartment house be built in 1926 as a residential hotel/apartment building for his mistress Marion Davies and her colleagues from theater and film who were considered her good friends. It is said that he spent over 5 million dollars on the lobby alone. In the past, Cary Grant lived here for over 12 years. Many other celebrities have been guests at the Warwick as well. Elvis, The Beatles, and others according to historic tour guides. I had not known of the celebrities who stayed or resided at this hotel. I just had a basic knowledge of how it came about.
Interesting is not the best way to describe Mr. Hearst, eccentric and eclectic do not serve him justice either. He had a fancy for the finer and most rare of articles. he wanted it all. Much like myself. Lol. Who doesn't? So he did have it all.
The hotel is amazing and beautiful. Sits right across from MOMA and has a spectacular lobby made of marble and gold leaf, however, very tastefully done. It's beautiful and understated. I can imagine Marion strolling in with her light and easy personality. She was silly and dark. He and she were "partners" although he was still married to his wife, whom lived in NY and never granted him a divorce. Smart lady. Odd thing, she was his mistress but never slept with him. I don't have all of the details. I just know they never slept together and he also had a matching room built in Hearst castle in San Simeon.
On this particular stay, I had an experience I never thought I would. Other than in my home. (I am very open about my spiritual sensitivities and perhaps this is understood by the world we know not much of). I was lying in bed relaxing and meditating while listening to music. I suddenly felt something hop on the bed like a kitty cat or small animal. This happened at least 3-4 times throughout my stay. Granted, this was the first time anything happened and this is the only hotel I have stayed at over the duration of a few years. Being the skeptic I am, even though it is a gift, I chalked it up to being my imagination and in that space between sleeping and awake. I was proven wrong.
On the second night into my stay, I felt a pounce on the foot of the bed as if a large person might sit when he/she is tired. This happened a couple of times and again I just left it to imagination. So wrong, soo soo wrong. This occurred at least several times throughout my stay. A large pounce and the sensation as if someone was sitting and standing. So odd I thought. Then I remembered my gift. And the circumstances which brought me to my stay. It seems as though I were living in a dream. These situations and happenings were unfounded until I had a friend stay over with me for the rest of my stay.
Its about night 3 of 5 and we're on the bed chit chatting in the dark. Suddenly there is that heavy sitting and getting up. Not only on my side of the bed, but on their side as well. We thought we were drifting off. No such luck. I usually don't spook easily, but to have this happen while I'm in a hotel room is a bit much. Just a tad, lol. This was tripping us both out. Many things happened in one night. Incredible.
First we had the sitting hard on the bed a couple of times while I was alone. Then the pouncing of an animal, forgot to mention the sensation of kneading on my leg. Then we had our final experience, which made it all come together. March 22 we lay talking in bed again, the lights are out, the weather is beautiful and the hotel across the street are lighting up the streets beautifully as the ground is wet frm rain.
We lay talking and there's a considerably large plop on the right side of the bed. "Did you feel that?!" Lmao! We went back and forth a few times as it happened at least 3 times and then a knock. No lies! There were three knocks, gentle knocks that is. So being curious, I knock three times and ask it to repeat me. It did! It knocked back. So I'm thinking I'm nuts, but my friend is hearing it as well. This happened about three times. I now know something is really going on. Finally, I knock and ask it to do it again if its really real. I got back three loud angry knocks and a final gentle knock. Freaked out was the least that could explain the feelings of my guest. Is this an apparition protesting about who my guest was. To be honest he is a very close friend indeed. Perhaps it was his wife? We could be mistaken for being intimate. And maybe our thoughts were in the wrong place. And maybe this was a warning visitation making us be good kids. Its all in a days life for me. I was just tripped out.
I'm left wondering if it was Mr. Hearst. I don't know if I had ever mentioned in past blogs that I had been spoken to in the castle in San Simeon? Hmm. Can't seem to remember. I was, I can say for certain he spoke into my ear as we stood in his bedroom. And so I heard, "I don't like them here, make them leave." I heard this three times in a row, after asking it to repeat itself.
So the moral of the story is. NEVER ask for something you might want to hear....it could, in fact, be something you may be fearful of. I love my life!
Monday, March 29, 2010
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Taking the grrrrrr out of angerrrrr.
As of late, I have been recognizing that I do in fact, have an issue with anger. Surprise huh!?
About 2 years ago, it was highly recommended I seek help with this issue called anger and from time to time, rage. I had been aware that I can slip off into a rage, but only with regards to my safety. i.e. My ex-fiance' attacked me and I had discovered that I had this level of strength to out run, out push, out chase, and pretty much kick a door in kind of "skill" we'll call it. At the time, it was a bitter sweet moment. I mean the fact that I could chase a 6'3" man, much bigger and heavier than I, into a closet while wearing just his whitey tighties and socks. Oh yes, he put his hands on me and he learned not to touch another woman again. NO. I didn't hit him or beat him. I merely chased him at lightening speed into our bedroom sized closet as he slammed the door shut and held it with his pathetic boy body. And all I did was kicked the door in and it just happened to throw him across the closet into a dresser and he kinda got hurt. I swear it was self defense!
As I move along to the real reason for my bliggidy blog and its fabulous subject, anger, the grrr and taking it out of the ang. I just made my self smile sloppily.
To reiterate, as I see I may gave confused the masses, I will mention again that about 2 years ago, anger management was highly recommended to myself by a facilitator in my group therapy for other amazing things that occur in the brain. I laughed heartily wondering, "why in the hell would I need lame ass anger management?!" And so, being the curious little woman that I am, I was forced to ask. Apparently, I asked in the same manner. Who knew!??!?! The facilitator began to respond and I guess I happened to make or respond with sort of expression which may have been interpreted as anger, I guess...lol.
"Tammy, how are you doing today?" She asked. I had to step back a sec and think about it. And I really was angry. Who wouldn't be angry? I most certainly know that when the rug basically slips out from under you, things tend to get a little bit crazy in the anger department. Life had been changing dramatically. Naturally, I responded to her that I was doing ok, pissed off, resentful, tearful, depressed, angry, and "what the hell else do you expect, my life is for shit right now. How many times do I need to discuss the same thing over and over and over again?" I am assuming I didn't come across as gently as I thought.
Tammy, we've been doing some discussing and looking over your file and feel it would be most beneficial for you to attend an anger management group. Do you have any thoughts?" BAH! Did I have any thoughts? Of course I did and of course I shared. It was certainly made apparent that I had said issues and proven so during past groups. I think thats a sack o' crap, at least I did. I never went and let her know I thought they were wrong.
Well, here I am...And I am struggling with the demons of anger in my head. These demons did a great job at making sure I was clouded in my thinking and in great denial. I thought I was happy and go lucky Tam all this time. Suddenly, I found myself in a fit of anger and tantrums for the last 35 years we'll say. Now THAT was a wake up call. Wake up call being that I notice my husband stuttering and cowering from conversation. I had become exactly what was pointed out to me.
Recently, I have been at battle with all of this mental rot, mold and mildew called anger. Old tapes were drown in the back of my mind. Cobb webs on the handles of the file cabinets locked and the key thrown out to the birds. Anger. I met it finally. And now, the battle has begun.
I have always been one to try and see if there is a better way to live. Happier, more confident, function and hope. There was more to life than disappointment, there had to be. I was not born to live in scourage and angst, a torn up stomach and rattled nerves to the point of needing tranquilizers. We all know that sordid story. Whatevers. Ultimately, I realized there is a better way. And I believe I have found it.
The way I have found has been clearly sitting in front of me all of this time. I had read a book in the past that taught meditation by way of the Buddhist teachings. It worked wonders! I was living better, happier, but not at peace. At least to that point where I am beginning to experience. The anger returned only in the form of hatred and rage most of my days. Hair(s) are turning white, skin is getting frown lines and the guts are talking back again. The most embarrassing part about this is when my tummy gets in an upheaval, I get VERY gassy and blow up like a damn m-16 firecracker.. NO LIE. I become a giant ball of methane. Not fun and not good for the marriage. Really who wants to sleep next to the giant farting machine. "She's tiny, but she's mighty, she's the tiny mighty fartin machiiiiiine."
So my reality became anger, my mornings became dark and regretful for being awake. And finally, it took John telling me he is afraid to approach or talk to me a lot of the time. I was floored. Literally floored. I had done the ultimate damage. I did grow into someone he did not marry. I was the definition of anger. I hated everything and everyone around me. This is all piled on top of my cyclical bipolariffic episodes. Thats when I had the moment of truth. I did need help with my anger and my depression would improve.
I found an awesome book that has helped switch my thinking around. I am in beginning stages of practicing transforming my anger into peace and compassion. I am learning to let things go that don't belong to me emotionally. In the meantime, I have had to become somewhat disconnected from the familial issues and complaining about mind numbing gossip and negativity. I am truly learning to apply this philosophy to my life. Only on page 50, but its a definite life's time work in progress and so far, so happy. The book is called Anger. I can't seem to remember the name of the author and I am just too damn lazy to go get it. I think his name is Thich Tahn Nahn? Yikes. I forgot to mention, this in conjunction with another book called Highly Sensitive Person. Of which, I am. I love knowing this and not feeling like I'm coocoo anymore.
This transformation is amazing. The mindful breathing, thinking, eating and walking. Every aspect of my life is done with deliberate movement and thought. Mindful loving and smiling. Enjoying every moment I have to smile, taste, smell and live. Anger comes in aaaaand I want to scream and remind myself of that annoying "hug and embrace your anger and it will eventually transform into love." How very, very, love, peace and drugs. Grass, pot, maryjane, marijuana and lsd. LOL! The separation between my feelings, where mine start and where their's ends is very distinct. At least not.
These two books are changing my outlook, I'm sure I'm repeating myself. I do that a lot. :) I am accepting that I take on too many feelings of other's and do not allow myself to have my own. That's where the anger starts in. Forgetting where I AM and that I AM not their anger or sadness. I am not their joy or spazm. I am my own feelings and there is no need for me to become whatever the hell it is. Sounds brash I know, but when it all comes down to the bottom of the barrel, a lot of my anger is fed by my family. My Mom and my Sister. Sadly they are incredibly angry and bitter. They have their reasons for sure, but there is no need for me to become that. I was born to be loving and joyful. And its odd how I ended up here.
One more short little word about this anger and owning and giving and mindful business.
My greatest challenge is with my Mother and Sister, due to reasons written above. I feel horrible thinking of ways to avoid that energy and ways to accept and deflect. I haven't gotten there yet, but hopefully soon. These strong women in my life are not of a great forgiving nature and are probably as angry as I was and still am I'm sure. I was there for an overnight stay with them last night. The energy was awesomely thick and I focused on being with my little Ian. It was hard. He is an absolute blast. The unfortunate part is one of them trying to tell me something that is a thorn in their side and see their blood start to boil. Hard stuff.
I consume myself with Ian's positive nature. Challenge, challenge, challllleeeeenge. Ugh, I was ready to scream at them to shut up. I breath, I breath, hum, sing with Ian..."HOW ON GOD'S GREEN EARTH CAN I KEEP FROM FEELING THEIR ANGER?" I'm dying here. I had no way of knowing how to deflect this except to withdraw and hide in play time. I stayed silent, at ease (seemingly), and pretend to be listening. I didn't mention I have been somewhat ridiculed for being one to search for the truth or inner peace in "one of Tammy's books." Yeah, my Mom just that and rolled her eyes thinking I didn't see her until I told her I did and asked why she wouldn't want to see me at peace. Conversation ended. These thoughts are ruminating, resinating and the words said float around my head with sadness for Mom. It must be how they saw me when I was an asshole or fuzzed up in my "issues", if you will.
All in all, Im hoping I learn the skills to confront in a kind way. To make for certain my feelings about my changing my way of life and practice of love, kindness and forgiveness. Dahli Lama said, "To practice Christianity, is to practice; love, kindness, and forgiveness. Without this, it is pointless." I couldn't agree more.
About 2 years ago, it was highly recommended I seek help with this issue called anger and from time to time, rage. I had been aware that I can slip off into a rage, but only with regards to my safety. i.e. My ex-fiance' attacked me and I had discovered that I had this level of strength to out run, out push, out chase, and pretty much kick a door in kind of "skill" we'll call it. At the time, it was a bitter sweet moment. I mean the fact that I could chase a 6'3" man, much bigger and heavier than I, into a closet while wearing just his whitey tighties and socks. Oh yes, he put his hands on me and he learned not to touch another woman again. NO. I didn't hit him or beat him. I merely chased him at lightening speed into our bedroom sized closet as he slammed the door shut and held it with his pathetic boy body. And all I did was kicked the door in and it just happened to throw him across the closet into a dresser and he kinda got hurt. I swear it was self defense!
As I move along to the real reason for my bliggidy blog and its fabulous subject, anger, the grrr and taking it out of the ang. I just made my self smile sloppily.
To reiterate, as I see I may gave confused the masses, I will mention again that about 2 years ago, anger management was highly recommended to myself by a facilitator in my group therapy for other amazing things that occur in the brain. I laughed heartily wondering, "why in the hell would I need lame ass anger management?!" And so, being the curious little woman that I am, I was forced to ask. Apparently, I asked in the same manner. Who knew!??!?! The facilitator began to respond and I guess I happened to make or respond with sort of expression which may have been interpreted as anger, I guess...lol.
"Tammy, how are you doing today?" She asked. I had to step back a sec and think about it. And I really was angry. Who wouldn't be angry? I most certainly know that when the rug basically slips out from under you, things tend to get a little bit crazy in the anger department. Life had been changing dramatically. Naturally, I responded to her that I was doing ok, pissed off, resentful, tearful, depressed, angry, and "what the hell else do you expect, my life is for shit right now. How many times do I need to discuss the same thing over and over and over again?" I am assuming I didn't come across as gently as I thought.
Tammy, we've been doing some discussing and looking over your file and feel it would be most beneficial for you to attend an anger management group. Do you have any thoughts?" BAH! Did I have any thoughts? Of course I did and of course I shared. It was certainly made apparent that I had said issues and proven so during past groups. I think thats a sack o' crap, at least I did. I never went and let her know I thought they were wrong.
Well, here I am...And I am struggling with the demons of anger in my head. These demons did a great job at making sure I was clouded in my thinking and in great denial. I thought I was happy and go lucky Tam all this time. Suddenly, I found myself in a fit of anger and tantrums for the last 35 years we'll say. Now THAT was a wake up call. Wake up call being that I notice my husband stuttering and cowering from conversation. I had become exactly what was pointed out to me.
Recently, I have been at battle with all of this mental rot, mold and mildew called anger. Old tapes were drown in the back of my mind. Cobb webs on the handles of the file cabinets locked and the key thrown out to the birds. Anger. I met it finally. And now, the battle has begun.
I have always been one to try and see if there is a better way to live. Happier, more confident, function and hope. There was more to life than disappointment, there had to be. I was not born to live in scourage and angst, a torn up stomach and rattled nerves to the point of needing tranquilizers. We all know that sordid story. Whatevers. Ultimately, I realized there is a better way. And I believe I have found it.
The way I have found has been clearly sitting in front of me all of this time. I had read a book in the past that taught meditation by way of the Buddhist teachings. It worked wonders! I was living better, happier, but not at peace. At least to that point where I am beginning to experience. The anger returned only in the form of hatred and rage most of my days. Hair(s) are turning white, skin is getting frown lines and the guts are talking back again. The most embarrassing part about this is when my tummy gets in an upheaval, I get VERY gassy and blow up like a damn m-16 firecracker.. NO LIE. I become a giant ball of methane. Not fun and not good for the marriage. Really who wants to sleep next to the giant farting machine. "She's tiny, but she's mighty, she's the tiny mighty fartin machiiiiiine."
So my reality became anger, my mornings became dark and regretful for being awake. And finally, it took John telling me he is afraid to approach or talk to me a lot of the time. I was floored. Literally floored. I had done the ultimate damage. I did grow into someone he did not marry. I was the definition of anger. I hated everything and everyone around me. This is all piled on top of my cyclical bipolariffic episodes. Thats when I had the moment of truth. I did need help with my anger and my depression would improve.
I found an awesome book that has helped switch my thinking around. I am in beginning stages of practicing transforming my anger into peace and compassion. I am learning to let things go that don't belong to me emotionally. In the meantime, I have had to become somewhat disconnected from the familial issues and complaining about mind numbing gossip and negativity. I am truly learning to apply this philosophy to my life. Only on page 50, but its a definite life's time work in progress and so far, so happy. The book is called Anger. I can't seem to remember the name of the author and I am just too damn lazy to go get it. I think his name is Thich Tahn Nahn? Yikes. I forgot to mention, this in conjunction with another book called Highly Sensitive Person. Of which, I am. I love knowing this and not feeling like I'm coocoo anymore.
This transformation is amazing. The mindful breathing, thinking, eating and walking. Every aspect of my life is done with deliberate movement and thought. Mindful loving and smiling. Enjoying every moment I have to smile, taste, smell and live. Anger comes in aaaaand I want to scream and remind myself of that annoying "hug and embrace your anger and it will eventually transform into love." How very, very, love, peace and drugs. Grass, pot, maryjane, marijuana and lsd. LOL! The separation between my feelings, where mine start and where their's ends is very distinct. At least not.
These two books are changing my outlook, I'm sure I'm repeating myself. I do that a lot. :) I am accepting that I take on too many feelings of other's and do not allow myself to have my own. That's where the anger starts in. Forgetting where I AM and that I AM not their anger or sadness. I am not their joy or spazm. I am my own feelings and there is no need for me to become whatever the hell it is. Sounds brash I know, but when it all comes down to the bottom of the barrel, a lot of my anger is fed by my family. My Mom and my Sister. Sadly they are incredibly angry and bitter. They have their reasons for sure, but there is no need for me to become that. I was born to be loving and joyful. And its odd how I ended up here.
One more short little word about this anger and owning and giving and mindful business.
My greatest challenge is with my Mother and Sister, due to reasons written above. I feel horrible thinking of ways to avoid that energy and ways to accept and deflect. I haven't gotten there yet, but hopefully soon. These strong women in my life are not of a great forgiving nature and are probably as angry as I was and still am I'm sure. I was there for an overnight stay with them last night. The energy was awesomely thick and I focused on being with my little Ian. It was hard. He is an absolute blast. The unfortunate part is one of them trying to tell me something that is a thorn in their side and see their blood start to boil. Hard stuff.
I consume myself with Ian's positive nature. Challenge, challenge, challllleeeeenge. Ugh, I was ready to scream at them to shut up. I breath, I breath, hum, sing with Ian..."HOW ON GOD'S GREEN EARTH CAN I KEEP FROM FEELING THEIR ANGER?" I'm dying here. I had no way of knowing how to deflect this except to withdraw and hide in play time. I stayed silent, at ease (seemingly), and pretend to be listening. I didn't mention I have been somewhat ridiculed for being one to search for the truth or inner peace in "one of Tammy's books." Yeah, my Mom just that and rolled her eyes thinking I didn't see her until I told her I did and asked why she wouldn't want to see me at peace. Conversation ended. These thoughts are ruminating, resinating and the words said float around my head with sadness for Mom. It must be how they saw me when I was an asshole or fuzzed up in my "issues", if you will.
All in all, Im hoping I learn the skills to confront in a kind way. To make for certain my feelings about my changing my way of life and practice of love, kindness and forgiveness. Dahli Lama said, "To practice Christianity, is to practice; love, kindness, and forgiveness. Without this, it is pointless." I couldn't agree more.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
One of my miss-adventures. Whats life without them? Easy!
I swipe my card to check in, nothing happens, "c'mon you piece of overused shit! work!" I'm assuming it heard my threats and began to work. Aaaand its not working again. Here we go again with another adventure. "Ma'am, let me help you." Its the nice JetBlue guy, he's kinda cute too. A nice tall drink of cafe con leche, if you will. Mmhmm. I'd date him, lol. I'm a short, scuzi a grande piping hot cup of caramel machiatta. No harm done. mmmm caramel frapp with whipped and caramel sauce. This was not turning out to be a smooth operation of sorts.
"Ma'am you're at the wrong airport." What the hell? Everything's been going so smoothly so far, aside from being an absolute brainiac having put my iPod in a safe place only to forget where the hell I put it. Nothing abnormal for me, so it all seemed to be going just swell, dandy even. HA! Almost smoothly. I first go to the first terminal, AA, turns out I'm at the wrong place and the wrong time by about 50 miles and whatever. After great inspection of my paperwork, we discover I am flying JetBlue, as I thought and told the desk guy. Thank God for senses of humor once I got to the JetBlue kiosk. My sense of humor.
I was already sweating from just being nervous and find out the machines are acting up and there were no seats but the upgrade. If I didn't purchase the extra 4 inches, yeah FOUR inches of extra leg room, I would have been sitting in the back, objectively called "steerage" by oneself, the high school choir headed for NYC too. CRAPPPPPPPPUH! I just told him to just give me a TEN DOLLAR PER INCH seat and I'll be fine. I'm not going to exactly stand in front of the plane waiting to see if someone will not show. somethings not right cause I bought this shit over a month ago. And the fun continues...
After running for the security check and sweating my ass off,Just before you unload your items and place your stuff in those filthy buckets, including shoes (more germs) and have them roll away while you have a moment of GREAT violation and invasion of privacy. There is always a moment you hope upon hope your bags and other items actually come out of the other side. Its almost like the feeling of seeing them come out of the other end of the great shrinking machine like Willy Wonka's, only it doesn't come out and ends up on the tele. In the meantime, I wonder if there's trolls waiting inside to spit and lick all of my stuff. Who lives in those things? Tiny little monsters with long teeth, insane black hair, bloody hatchets and nothing on but a bamboo skirt. Like that movie from the 70s.
TSA has new rules and must wipe your hands with a piece of cloth. I thought to myself, "this is just weird and holy shit what the hell will they do now?" There I am, little me, innocently waiting to move forward and I walk up as everyone else . A little lady about my size but not of the same "girth", lol, took this little fabric that looks much like a wallet size prayer cloth and cleaned it up after the person before me. Who, by the way, by today's paranoid TSA (lauging cynically) is being thorough at their job and would have done the classic profiling and taken the very nice man in front of me. For obvious reasons. So this cloth is placed on this exray thingy. Its an odd machine.
"CHECK FOR EXPLOSIVES" IN RED! I couldn't believe I set off the dangerous/hazardous/potential terrorist/weird substance on my hands aligned with a loud beeping sound. Meh. I have become a "possible threat" to the aircraft. REALLY? Yep, really. The panic, the sweat ran down my face from running and now became the sweat of hot flashes mixed with the persperation of utter embarrassment and wha, huh, eff! I get I.D. check, ticket check, looked at like a criminal, literally a criminal. Naturally, being the light and happy person I am, my humor doesn't go over well. If I could advice, never joke with the cranky short TSA officers at Burbank Airport, it can get ugly as ugly as they were. For the first time ever I was patted down, were talking FULL body search minus the cavity check..
Walking, walking, walking over to the special place of doom, they look inside and out of everything, I was beginning to wonder if there would be a cavity check. That can go either way dependent on whether or not its a foxy dude or Mickey Rooney or just a chick. No such luck. I did get a woman, I guess it was better. I wouldnt want to have my puffiness rubbed down by a cutie anyway. I literally got rubbed and moved all over cept for my "cavity" if you will. lol. I think I'm beginning to enjoy this a little too much, the writing about it that is.
We joked about it and weapons and how people carry them on and how many creative ways she's seen them hidden. We talked about how female gang members carry their weapons strapped to their inner thighs all the way up to the coochie quarters should they be super skinners. I wish I had her name. We chit chat while she swept her hands under my breasts and around the bee hive o honey, but still with respect. Wow, I'm all talkin n stuff here. And to think I'm super duper flight doseage cranked with xanax. This is the longest effing flight or so it seems.
We go further into our conversation and she had no idea that as short or long back into the 70s-80s, cholos would fight with chains and knives. NO GUNS! She was shocked, "Whaaahaat? No guns? Are you serious? Now they just use guns huh. Wow. Bike chains? Thats funny and damn painful! " I agreed and told her they take the easy way out and just pull a weapon. No animalistic satisfaction in really hashing shit out, for those who chose to be violent and fight. And I honestly believe it. Nothing relieves conflict with vatos, cholos, pachucos, thugs, etc., like a good old fashion fist fight. Am I wrong. I had a fist fight. It got a lot of shit worked out and I kicked her ass. So it was a double whammy. I gave her some upper cuts and kidney punches and she just pulled my hair. LOL.
After all of this jibber jabber and everything being swabbed and rubbed, I get to catch my flight in 20mins. I was starving, needed a bagel and maybe something to drink. I'm carrying my supposed light weight laptop and and trying to manage to go as fast as I can. Good GOD, my flight was already boarded and of course I am the last to make a dramatic entrance onto the plane and am lost aaaall over again. All ability to think or speak were taken from me. Hands shaking from all of the excitement, cranky and hungry.
My flight was nice and smooth, not comfy and the restlessness just would not quit. For the love of Mike, I was cranked on tranqs and nada! I was fortunate enough to have someone offer the aisle seat for trade. FINALLY! Something is on my side and I don't have to suffer through 5 hours of being in the middle. I hate the center seat. The story doesn't end here, but I'll save the rest for posteriority. LOL.
Moral of the story? Neosporin can be considered a dangerous or explosive material, always bring the correct itin info with you, and please make sure you have something to eat. Otherwise, you may give the parent of the wild child in the front row a dirty look only to realize they smiled at you, leaving you feeling like an asshole.
"Ma'am you're at the wrong airport." What the hell? Everything's been going so smoothly so far, aside from being an absolute brainiac having put my iPod in a safe place only to forget where the hell I put it. Nothing abnormal for me, so it all seemed to be going just swell, dandy even. HA! Almost smoothly. I first go to the first terminal, AA, turns out I'm at the wrong place and the wrong time by about 50 miles and whatever. After great inspection of my paperwork, we discover I am flying JetBlue, as I thought and told the desk guy. Thank God for senses of humor once I got to the JetBlue kiosk. My sense of humor.
I was already sweating from just being nervous and find out the machines are acting up and there were no seats but the upgrade. If I didn't purchase the extra 4 inches, yeah FOUR inches of extra leg room, I would have been sitting in the back, objectively called "steerage" by oneself, the high school choir headed for NYC too. CRAPPPPPPPPUH! I just told him to just give me a TEN DOLLAR PER INCH seat and I'll be fine. I'm not going to exactly stand in front of the plane waiting to see if someone will not show. somethings not right cause I bought this shit over a month ago. And the fun continues...
After running for the security check and sweating my ass off,Just before you unload your items and place your stuff in those filthy buckets, including shoes (more germs) and have them roll away while you have a moment of GREAT violation and invasion of privacy. There is always a moment you hope upon hope your bags and other items actually come out of the other side. Its almost like the feeling of seeing them come out of the other end of the great shrinking machine like Willy Wonka's, only it doesn't come out and ends up on the tele. In the meantime, I wonder if there's trolls waiting inside to spit and lick all of my stuff. Who lives in those things? Tiny little monsters with long teeth, insane black hair, bloody hatchets and nothing on but a bamboo skirt. Like that movie from the 70s.
TSA has new rules and must wipe your hands with a piece of cloth. I thought to myself, "this is just weird and holy shit what the hell will they do now?" There I am, little me, innocently waiting to move forward and I walk up as everyone else . A little lady about my size but not of the same "girth", lol, took this little fabric that looks much like a wallet size prayer cloth and cleaned it up after the person before me. Who, by the way, by today's paranoid TSA (lauging cynically) is being thorough at their job and would have done the classic profiling and taken the very nice man in front of me. For obvious reasons. So this cloth is placed on this exray thingy. Its an odd machine.
"CHECK FOR EXPLOSIVES" IN RED! I couldn't believe I set off the dangerous/hazardous/potential terrorist/weird substance on my hands aligned with a loud beeping sound. Meh. I have become a "possible threat" to the aircraft. REALLY? Yep, really. The panic, the sweat ran down my face from running and now became the sweat of hot flashes mixed with the persperation of utter embarrassment and wha, huh, eff! I get I.D. check, ticket check, looked at like a criminal, literally a criminal. Naturally, being the light and happy person I am, my humor doesn't go over well. If I could advice, never joke with the cranky short TSA officers at Burbank Airport, it can get ugly as ugly as they were. For the first time ever I was patted down, were talking FULL body search minus the cavity check..
Walking, walking, walking over to the special place of doom, they look inside and out of everything, I was beginning to wonder if there would be a cavity check. That can go either way dependent on whether or not its a foxy dude or Mickey Rooney or just a chick. No such luck. I did get a woman, I guess it was better. I wouldnt want to have my puffiness rubbed down by a cutie anyway. I literally got rubbed and moved all over cept for my "cavity" if you will. lol. I think I'm beginning to enjoy this a little too much, the writing about it that is.
We joked about it and weapons and how people carry them on and how many creative ways she's seen them hidden. We talked about how female gang members carry their weapons strapped to their inner thighs all the way up to the coochie quarters should they be super skinners. I wish I had her name. We chit chat while she swept her hands under my breasts and around the bee hive o honey, but still with respect. Wow, I'm all talkin n stuff here. And to think I'm super duper flight doseage cranked with xanax. This is the longest effing flight or so it seems.
We go further into our conversation and she had no idea that as short or long back into the 70s-80s, cholos would fight with chains and knives. NO GUNS! She was shocked, "Whaaahaat? No guns? Are you serious? Now they just use guns huh. Wow. Bike chains? Thats funny and damn painful! " I agreed and told her they take the easy way out and just pull a weapon. No animalistic satisfaction in really hashing shit out, for those who chose to be violent and fight. And I honestly believe it. Nothing relieves conflict with vatos, cholos, pachucos, thugs, etc., like a good old fashion fist fight. Am I wrong. I had a fist fight. It got a lot of shit worked out and I kicked her ass. So it was a double whammy. I gave her some upper cuts and kidney punches and she just pulled my hair. LOL.
After all of this jibber jabber and everything being swabbed and rubbed, I get to catch my flight in 20mins. I was starving, needed a bagel and maybe something to drink. I'm carrying my supposed light weight laptop and and trying to manage to go as fast as I can. Good GOD, my flight was already boarded and of course I am the last to make a dramatic entrance onto the plane and am lost aaaall over again. All ability to think or speak were taken from me. Hands shaking from all of the excitement, cranky and hungry.
My flight was nice and smooth, not comfy and the restlessness just would not quit. For the love of Mike, I was cranked on tranqs and nada! I was fortunate enough to have someone offer the aisle seat for trade. FINALLY! Something is on my side and I don't have to suffer through 5 hours of being in the middle. I hate the center seat. The story doesn't end here, but I'll save the rest for posteriority. LOL.
Moral of the story? Neosporin can be considered a dangerous or explosive material, always bring the correct itin info with you, and please make sure you have something to eat. Otherwise, you may give the parent of the wild child in the front row a dirty look only to realize they smiled at you, leaving you feeling like an asshole.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
No title
Ahhh, yessss. New puppy, new ideas, new fresh season and a running chance to have finally found my peace and quiet amongst the anger that dwells with in the misshapen roundedness of my skull.
Where should I start. Certainly not in a place I had started or ended before, but in a place of who knows what. Sometimes I feel my head as a giant riddle waiting to be figured out.
A few weeks ago I was in such a rut, anger, sadness, depression, ultimate negativity. Far more than I had had in months. Or at least weeks before that. Regardless, it seems as though a bump on the head from falling in a drunken sleeping med state rendering me to have the first stitches of my entire life; may have changed my perspective.
It was about 1am, wake up to go to the poddy. I'm thinkin it's just like every other night and I just happened to dose myself out with some Xanax to calm the racing thoughts, jitters, and body tremors. These "jitters are the most uncomfortable sensations of electricity that occurr once I try to relax. Anyway, I wake up and step out of bed and find myself falling fast and hard into my bedside table. So I fell. What else is new? Right? Everyone knows I am a bit klumsy from time to time and I fall. As I did the week before. See, my bed is really high, up to my breasts. SO I use a child's two step stair to plant my happy sleep ass on.
The fall itself felt entirely slow motion, literally like I was drunk, floating down fast and hard, yet sloooow moooooo. There was quite a loud thund (I must add that I was as nekked as the day I was born). I had no idea how mexican I was til I hit the table. I cried out with a nice little "AYYY!" Hubby jumps up within seconds, I feel liquid falling in my hands and wonder how in the hell I got a cup of water to spill on my head??? It was my blood, long story that is already long short. I gashed open my head, tiny but severe, and ended up in urgent care, seeing my skull and getting 5 stitches. THATS JUST GROSS. Thread in my skin. Tied in a knot. Gross!!! Oh, the awesome part was that I DID see my skull. Its kinda like the color of a pearl, only gooey stuff lining it.
The situation as a whole was quite comical in that I have never fallen out of bed, naked, cried out "AY!" like the good little Mehicana I am, and screamed I was bleeding. Call it morbid sense of humor. Anyway, the reason for telling this sorded story of when I fall I do it right kinda thing, is that I believe it released something that dwelled within these rounded walls we call my brain.
Its really odd to be honest. I wake up one day, its the worst day of my life. I fall, get stitched up, sleep a couple of hours, life is pretty damn good. It wasn't one of those "thank God I didn't die" epiphanys. It was an "Omg I woke up and I'm happy" moments. Its as if the jarring of my gray matter did something I could never do on my own.
Since the day I fell, approximately a month ago, I have had this sensation of peace and quiet in my head. Literally. Yeah, I've had a bipolar cycle, however, not so bad. I mean, I really enjoy life. I know I sound surprised right? Right! I am surprised.
I'm wondering if its possible that a screw was loose and it really took a little shaking up to put it back in place. And I can't say that I have had this much mental clarity in the last few years. With the exception of the healthiest I have ever been due to exersize and dietary changes. And I am doing some nutritional changes striving to become me again. But really? Who woulda thought?
Is it really possible? Is it possible that the frontal lob may have been set back into place, making my head come back around to where it was as birth? I'm being so serious. I know I've heard stories about this stuff. Lol, I love that last sentence.
This bump, fall of death, Evil Kinievel stunt, Devil may care, let's see how hard and how wide I can open my head feat seems to have done just that. Awakened my senses and desire to read, create and find that me somewhere. I am happy to say that I am happy. I can babble on forever.
For instance, I usually get really frustrated with my Mom, who doesn't, about her whatever she does that bothers me. This week she didnt. I find myself breathing in and letting things go. I am mindful and thinking within and being a better listener than talker. I am truly making an effort to be mindful of other's feelings. Its as if I woke up and God has given me wider eyes to search and see. To really be successfully me. Authentically me. Not what others expect, but what I know of myself to be true. To be as I am. I'm good with it. I am in shock. ON THA REAL YO!
As hard as it is to accept that things will fall in front of me on my path to knowing myself more authentically, I will have to face it. I am working hard, so hard at not being afraid. The biggest thing that has kept me from me. Fear. What if something hurts or someone gets mad at me. Oh hell, everyone does it I'm sure. I just wonder if its on such a heightened level?
I am also reading a book that is helping me to accept my highly sensitive nature. A book that is guiding me in the way of acceptance and how to use it for the great good, which or whatever it may be for myself. Perhaps I have been creating this moment of clarity in my head for the last however many years and am just now being shown my progress.
I also am finding my compassion for humanity in a much more profound way. In a truest way I cannot explain. I just cannot, for the life of me, explain. I don't have the money to always donate, but I have my voice and my spirit. Come to think of it, that is one of those things that have given me some freedom too.
I just know life is really good today. And life is a moment at a time. Nothing can be predicted, nothing can be foretold or controlled.
Where should I start. Certainly not in a place I had started or ended before, but in a place of who knows what. Sometimes I feel my head as a giant riddle waiting to be figured out.
A few weeks ago I was in such a rut, anger, sadness, depression, ultimate negativity. Far more than I had had in months. Or at least weeks before that. Regardless, it seems as though a bump on the head from falling in a drunken sleeping med state rendering me to have the first stitches of my entire life; may have changed my perspective.
It was about 1am, wake up to go to the poddy. I'm thinkin it's just like every other night and I just happened to dose myself out with some Xanax to calm the racing thoughts, jitters, and body tremors. These "jitters are the most uncomfortable sensations of electricity that occurr once I try to relax. Anyway, I wake up and step out of bed and find myself falling fast and hard into my bedside table. So I fell. What else is new? Right? Everyone knows I am a bit klumsy from time to time and I fall. As I did the week before. See, my bed is really high, up to my breasts. SO I use a child's two step stair to plant my happy sleep ass on.
The fall itself felt entirely slow motion, literally like I was drunk, floating down fast and hard, yet sloooow moooooo. There was quite a loud thund (I must add that I was as nekked as the day I was born). I had no idea how mexican I was til I hit the table. I cried out with a nice little "AYYY!" Hubby jumps up within seconds, I feel liquid falling in my hands and wonder how in the hell I got a cup of water to spill on my head??? It was my blood, long story that is already long short. I gashed open my head, tiny but severe, and ended up in urgent care, seeing my skull and getting 5 stitches. THATS JUST GROSS. Thread in my skin. Tied in a knot. Gross!!! Oh, the awesome part was that I DID see my skull. Its kinda like the color of a pearl, only gooey stuff lining it.
The situation as a whole was quite comical in that I have never fallen out of bed, naked, cried out "AY!" like the good little Mehicana I am, and screamed I was bleeding. Call it morbid sense of humor. Anyway, the reason for telling this sorded story of when I fall I do it right kinda thing, is that I believe it released something that dwelled within these rounded walls we call my brain.
Its really odd to be honest. I wake up one day, its the worst day of my life. I fall, get stitched up, sleep a couple of hours, life is pretty damn good. It wasn't one of those "thank God I didn't die" epiphanys. It was an "Omg I woke up and I'm happy" moments. Its as if the jarring of my gray matter did something I could never do on my own.
Since the day I fell, approximately a month ago, I have had this sensation of peace and quiet in my head. Literally. Yeah, I've had a bipolar cycle, however, not so bad. I mean, I really enjoy life. I know I sound surprised right? Right! I am surprised.
I'm wondering if its possible that a screw was loose and it really took a little shaking up to put it back in place. And I can't say that I have had this much mental clarity in the last few years. With the exception of the healthiest I have ever been due to exersize and dietary changes. And I am doing some nutritional changes striving to become me again. But really? Who woulda thought?
Is it really possible? Is it possible that the frontal lob may have been set back into place, making my head come back around to where it was as birth? I'm being so serious. I know I've heard stories about this stuff. Lol, I love that last sentence.
This bump, fall of death, Evil Kinievel stunt, Devil may care, let's see how hard and how wide I can open my head feat seems to have done just that. Awakened my senses and desire to read, create and find that me somewhere. I am happy to say that I am happy. I can babble on forever.
For instance, I usually get really frustrated with my Mom, who doesn't, about her whatever she does that bothers me. This week she didnt. I find myself breathing in and letting things go. I am mindful and thinking within and being a better listener than talker. I am truly making an effort to be mindful of other's feelings. Its as if I woke up and God has given me wider eyes to search and see. To really be successfully me. Authentically me. Not what others expect, but what I know of myself to be true. To be as I am. I'm good with it. I am in shock. ON THA REAL YO!
As hard as it is to accept that things will fall in front of me on my path to knowing myself more authentically, I will have to face it. I am working hard, so hard at not being afraid. The biggest thing that has kept me from me. Fear. What if something hurts or someone gets mad at me. Oh hell, everyone does it I'm sure. I just wonder if its on such a heightened level?
I am also reading a book that is helping me to accept my highly sensitive nature. A book that is guiding me in the way of acceptance and how to use it for the great good, which or whatever it may be for myself. Perhaps I have been creating this moment of clarity in my head for the last however many years and am just now being shown my progress.
I also am finding my compassion for humanity in a much more profound way. In a truest way I cannot explain. I just cannot, for the life of me, explain. I don't have the money to always donate, but I have my voice and my spirit. Come to think of it, that is one of those things that have given me some freedom too.
I just know life is really good today. And life is a moment at a time. Nothing can be predicted, nothing can be foretold or controlled.
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