I’m Wide Awake

I’m awake at 7:00am on a Sunday morning.

If it were the middle of the night, I’d go to the gym or do some cleaning downstairs while watching some real “quality” TV. But right now it’s so close to when everyone will wake up it feels like anything decently productive would end 1/3 into the process.

Sleeping on my back, side, stomach. With a pillow, without a pillow. Spooning with my husband. Me curled up to his back. Nothing worked. I detest the feeling of being wide awake and thinking – if I don’t get to sleep now, I’m going to be so devastatingly tired the next morning. Sadly, insomnia is something that happens quite often.

I think a lot of the waking hours have to do with stress. Stress at work, stress in my personal live, stress that I create because I just have issues. I never really cry. It’s just the perpetual sadness that is always with me.

I tried something I don’t normally do. My husband was asleep so I decided to have a one-way conversation with him. Nothing as funny or as awkward as Client Eastwood at the RNC, per say but something that I would never do with him awake. Maybe I’ll even tell him of this blog post one day. But to actually mutter the words in front of him – I’d be mortified.

I love you. I will always love you and the Bean. I love our perfect family. I hope that I am always what you want. I’m sorry thoughts of having another baby or not having another baby are plaguing us right now. Work is always unknown. Timing will never be right and one day my body may simply not let me have another child.

I’m so lonely. Even with my wonderful family, my wonderful friends, you and the Bean. There is always some sadness that persists even through my happiest moments. I don’t know the deep routed fear that lives inside me. It is the same sadness that emerges during really sad movies or really sad songs. It is a familiar ache that is constantly being smothered on a day to day basis.

I have never feared that you’ll leave me and yet I constantly beg you to stay with me. I don’t know why.

Please don’t ever leave me and the Bean.

I kiss his shoulder and head dutifully downstairs to make coffee and her morning milk.

My Worst Fear

I went to a funeral recently. It was the first funeral I had been to in over a year. I’m at the age right now where I am attending funerals for my friends’ parents.

This funeral was for my friend’s husband. He was 50 years old. He died of small intestine cancer. His funeral was held the day before what would have been their 10 year anniversary.

My friend left the company last April to take some time off. She had had enough with the job. She took some time to herself and to relax. She went to Hawaii with her husband. They had a great time, took beautiful pictures, made great memories.

When they got home he started to immediately feel sick. In October he was diagnosed. In February, he was told he had 2 – 4 weeks to live. He died 5 days later.

The service was beautiful. There were at least 30 people from my company there. Eulogies were given by friends he had had for 45 years. I can only hope that the friendships I have last that long.

Why do so many people suffer from cancer? Why do they “lose the battle?” It breaks my heart to know how many people die each year. How many people suffer every minute of every day. Why are we still losing these battles?

My father had stomach cancer. My mom is being treated for breast cancer. I lost my right ovary to a cancerous tumor. How many other family members will find out about something wrong their health? Could I pass something down to my daughter?

My worst fear.

The End of a Poetic Era

Before the very nice appliance men come to take away my dead refrigerator, I thought it prudent to capture the magnetic poetry that has occupied my kitchen for almost 7 years.

Long secret sex
Naked when prisoner pierces kiss
Laugh devouring dark
Naked rhythm throw
Squirming poison peace

Warm wet melon

Ocean picture
Some gigantic big growl
Dog air
Sacred fly
Needle smile
Never worry all
Trust heart

My velvet caramel blazing poetry

Open desire drink coffee

Once explore delicious woman after color champagne universe away

Had good vacation
Free room
See you soon
Miss you
Come around

WordPress Mobile for dummies

I’ve never actually composed an entry from my iPhone link on Apple’s site before. Considering I work in the mobile arena, you’d think I’d be adventurous and would break away from desktop.

So here’s to technology and trying something new. Hopefully this new format works so I can up my entries to more than just quarterly.

A Life of Service

Driving to work the other day, I heard “Tie a Yellow Ribbon Round the Ole Oak Tree” by Tony Orlando for the first time. I can say that I was seriously struck by this song.

For years I’ve seen people tie ribbons around trees. It signified that someone they loved was away serving our country. Not sure if that mean the person had to be overseas or simply in reserves – but the point was that he or she was away from home.

I go to work each day hating that when I come home, my infant looks slightly bigger. I’m bitter thinking that she is growing each day and I’m missing crucial moments. While no precious moment is insignificant, my bitterness pales in comparison to being gone weeks, months, and years as those in the armed forces.

I have a profound respect for people who serve our cities, states, and country. Yes, while NCIS happens to be one of my favorite shows, it doesn’t mean that I actually know anything. A girl from work’s husband served. My husband’s friend’s husband served in Iraq and Fallujah. But that doesn’t mean I know anything.

I am so grateful to all the men and women who are committed to a life of service. Even my local fire department. Without fail each Christmas, Easter, New Year’s, etc., that fire truck is always racing down an empty street to a house with a Christmas tree on fire, someone who fell, someone with a heart attack, a serious car accident. EVERY SINGLE YEAR, someone’s holiday is marred by a tragedy and the fire and police department are there to resolved the situation and protect the people.  And I love them for that.

I know that it’s “cool” to hate the police and say that fire fighters are “hot.” I know it’s easy to throw a picket line up to protest a war. It’s “cool” to “Barack the Vote.” I guess what people don’t think about are the individual lives that are affected by each gun shot, traffic violation, lifesaving procedure, and each refugee saved.

This post has inspired me to bake some cookies for my city’s fire departments. It’s small and probably even stupid to many. But it’s one tiny thing that I can do for my city. No one else will care what Anna’s Bakery is. But hopefully I’ll make someone smile. Think of what you can do for your city and state public servants.

The First Movie Scores

I recently had the opportunity to hum themes from the Lord of the Rings score to a friend of mine. After reflecting on the theme from the Shire, it made me think of the first movie scores I ever remembered. It’s a blend of 3. They’re all mid-eighties… let’s see if anyone out there remembers any of them.

  1. The Boy Who Could Fly by Bruce Broughton. I always think of that last scene where he flies away and she watches him. He dips out of the scene and then flies back into screen and then away. Always broke my heart.
  2. Willow by James Horner. Every time they are sledding down some sort of hill, you always hear that same happy action theme. I always think of Iceman from Top Gun saying that the princess needs to grow hair on her chest. I don’t know… 80s humor, I suppose.
  3. Cocoon by James Horner. One of the first movies that ever made me cry. When Rose didn’t come back to life I cried and cried. Finally as Bernie got on the boat to say goodbye to them, I really lost it. Or at least as much as a 6-year old could possibly lose it in a movie. To be fair, I saw it on TV so perhaps I was 7.

The first scores I ever purchased on CD was

  1. Far and Away by John Williams. Truth be told, I think I purchased it for the Enya song that they played during the credits. However as I listened to the rest of the tracks, it started with a love affair that is still going on today.
  2. The Man Without a Face by James Horner. Funny how often James is showing up in here. I haven’t even mentioned Titanic (which I own) or Braveheart yet…

One day I’ll have to list my favorite actual pieces. But that’ll be another post. Like my Mythbusters posts, I’ll attempt a top 10… but it could take me a bit of forever trying to compose that list.

Creature of Habit

For the past 9 years, I have driven the same route to work. On the way home, I drive by my old school and my old church. Since I’ve returned from maternity leave, I don’t take this route anymore. Instead of my nice little 8.5 miles commute, I jump on the freeway to drive 20+ miles to pick up my daughter.

Don’t get me wrong – the distance isn’t too bad. But it’s weird. The days that I do get to drive by my old school it always makes me feel better. I spent K through 8 there. Such a significant part of my life.

Each time I drive by, I make the sign of the cross. It’s something that my mother does. I don’t know if she did it in front of every church or every Catholic Church. Maybe the churches that she remembered along the commute? I only get to take this route home a few days a month. And every time I do, I remember to make the sign of the cross. It’s comforting somehow – this sign, the route, the school, the church.  Changing routines are hard. I’m so a creature of habit.

Remembering 9/11

Everyone in the house is asleep. I knew I’d wake up first and I knew that there would be dozens of 9/11 tributes on TV this morning. I’m sitting watching them with my laptop on my lap.

My first memory was to recall where I was. I was 21 and it was the of summer vacation. It was a Tuesday. I was to fly back to college the following week. I was supposed to meet a friend at the mall. The MALL of all places. Looking back, I realize it was an innocent enough date between 2 girls who hadn’t seen each other all summer. But it sounds so shallow. I turned on the TV to be absolutely shocked at what I saw. People covered in ash and running away from destruction. Pictures of the North Tower on fire. Before I could really comprehend what was happening, the second plane hit the South Tower. I literally caught the actual impact and my muoth dropped in a rather inelegant kind of shock and horror.

I called my boyfriend and my parents. I realized everything was happening  on the East Coast but the sound of their voices made me feel better.

My useless trip to the mall to window shop and have lunch was cancelled. All that week flags flown in every town I went to. People talked about the the threat to national security. The world somehow knew we were at DEFCON 3 like we were watching War Games or something. Firefighters were greeted like heroes everywhere I went. Sad to take a national tragedy to appreciate the everyday hero. I cancelled my flight and ended up driving a 7 hour drive to school; it was a small price to pay.

Only a few days later do I think it really hit me. My friends and I were asked to sing the national anthem at a student organized 9/11 remembrance. I don’t know what it was. Seeing all these college strangers gather around, all of them staring at us. Maybe it was the diverse number of flags flying, each country and cause representing themselves. Maybe I could feel the raw emotions and the tension in the air. I just started to cry. I don’t know why I picked this particular moment to grieve. I cried for the people who had lost their lives. I cried for the people who had family that lost their lives. I grieved for people who still couldn’t find their loved ones. I cried for all the service people who would lose their lives. I cried for all my friends in the reserves who would be activated.

The summer of 2001, I attended summer school at Cambridge University. After the session had ended, I went around London by myself as a tourist. It was awesome. I probably would have stayed around Europe longer if  I didn’t have to rush home for my dad’s 50th birthday. I think now, what my experience may have been like if I had stayed on like one of my friends. She was trapped in Europe for 2 weeks, unsure how to get home.

It’s crazy to think how much time has gone by. I think it’s crazy that my daughter is 6 months old. I can barely believe it has been 10 years. Every year on 9/11 I remember how I felt on that first day and think of the people who gave their lives. But even as I write this post I think – I should really remember them every day, not just once a year.

Respect. Love. Remember.

the ASUS U46

I know I haven’t written. And I’ve been bad. But my 6-month old daughter has taken over my office and since then, the video card of my desktop has died.

However my husband has purchased me my new beautiful ASUS U46 and I can finally update the world to the crazy innerworkings of my mind again. =) Rejoice!

the jellybean and Bethenny

i suppose something significant has happened when i have posted for the better part of a year.

what happened? the jellybean happened. earlier this month i gave birth to a beautiful baby girl.

motherhood is no joke to quote the wise Bethenny Frankel. the crying, the breastfeeding, the lack of sleeping, changing diapers. it’s insane. but truly? it’s one of the best experiences of my life.

when i found out i was pregnant, there was a bethenny’s getting married marathon. seeing all of her craziness while pregnant was oddly and yet incredibly reassuring. and now in her new series – it’s interesting to see how motherhood changes you. the fierce protection and devotion you have to your child. it’s incredible.

i promise for more significant updates in the future… or at least funnier ones with more detail and less meaning. but for now, sorry for dissing you blog world. the little bean has clearly become my number one love and priority.