Hello Everyone,

October 2015

I love October, not just because it is my birthday month but because the air changes, the season changes, the time changes.

It is when we must embrace the fact that the time change will have us seeing the dark sooner. A time when the trees begin to let loose the leaves, orange, brown and yellow leaves flying about.

It is the time when the ghouls and horrors are seen in decorations, shows, movies and parties.

It is the time when we say farewell to the summer heat, smile toward the cooler weather and wonder of the winter to come.

Happy October! May there be light within you to shine upon the earlier darker hours. May the ghouls and gremlins that ring the door bell make you smile and partake in trick or treat.

May you embrace the change in season knowing... it will bring us back to Spring soon enough.

I have added a tab - Whisper my words, which is a link to my site where I post stories, poems, AndMore events and the Watcher's Journal. Take a peek and enjoy.

Enjoy!

~g

December 25, 2009

Parkinsons daughter - We come from strong stuff

December 17, 2009:  He rolled her away in the wheelchair and slowly the elevator door closed, her eyes as that door separated us will haunt me for as long as I live.  There was a hint of terror that was quickly overcome by eyes of hope.  The steel frame around her head a clear reminder that she was about to embark in a surgery that most would fear with just hearing about it.  Soon, two holes would be drilled through her skull and wires will be inserted.  Part one of a two part surgery that would give her the chance to do something she has not done in years.  Walk.  For years she has shuffled the Parkinson walk, a raspy short drag of the feet in quick successions to reach a destination.  As the disease worsened the shuffle became more of attempts then actual reaching of destination.  Her head now rolled round uncontrollably, the pain from the muscle and nerve exhaustion leaving her with insomnia.  There were times I would see her soul leave her eyes.

Then a chance came by, a chance that arrived in the guise of a mishap while she went for an ordinary appointment to the Dr.  One event unfolded to another and in a few short months she was in an elevator escorted by the surgeon himself to begin the Activa DBS surgery.

I walked to the surgical lounge and sat, stunned, silent.  Visions of waiting from when Dad was in the hospital would enter my mind, and I would push it away.  She WILL survive.  She's made of strong stuff.

December 25, 2009:  It's just great to have Mom staying with me, I picked her up yesterday.  A few side effects has left her at times confused and disoriented.  Not wanting her feeling alone I brought her home with me to spend the next week with her.  She woke early and I made her breakfast.  As I whisked the eggs I watched from the corner of my eyes as she would look at her hands, slowly moving them around.  This is a victory for someone with Parkinson.  She marveled at the ease she was not capable of for well over a decade.  As I cooked the eggs I smiled as I watched her walk back and forth, not with impatience, rather marveling at the fact she was actually walking.  Capable of lifting her feet and walking.  My minds eye remembered that look years ago when my son first learned to walk.

We talked for hours as I baked bread of pumpkin and one of corn.  The aroma filled the kitchen like a warm blanket.  She talked of nothing else but the fact that she felt 'normal'.  How horrible that she had felt anything but normal.  I was saddened to realize I had not picked up on that from her.  I looked at the small staples on her shaved head, two rows three inches apart.  Healing nicely but still a horrific reminder of her ordeal and in a bittersweet way of her getting closer to victory.

Lunchtime came and I wanted her to feel at home.  I made sausages with spaghetti and sauce, I laid out the table settings and poured her apple juice.  Nostalgia my friend of late came by, I remembered as a child asking for milk to go with my spaghetti dinner and Mom pouring it, then changing my mind and asking for juice, it was apple juice she poured with a stern look of annoyance at my constant ability in changing my mind.

She 'walked' to the dining room table and said 'Wow, what service', we laughed.  It hit me, she laughed a natural gigglish laugh I had not heard in a long, long, long while.  Her smile appeared and her eyes sparkled.  For so long I would see the mask, the Parkinson Mask that kept anyone from seeing her true emotions.  I bit back the overwhleming need to cry.

I began Christmas dinner enjoying the fact that I was spending the day doing what I love, cooking.  It is just not as fun when cooking for one.  As I opened the oven to check on the roast I saw once again that she was checking out her walk.  I grinned.  Like a child with a new revelation, she marveled all day long.

The rice was almost done and my son would soon arrive, I set the table and poured myself a glass a wine.  Mom was napping.  Like a child she faught her need for rest, her eyes closing and I watched her struggle to keep them open.  I finally convinced her to sit on the bed with me to talk and in no time she was out for the count.  I got my favorite Indian theme blanket and covered her.  I smiled of that thought as I sipped my favorite spiced wine.  Yes Parkinson, she fights you.  She's made of strong stuff.

I sat back, took a deep breath and before I knew it I began to cry.  I cried.......For the years that disease stole our mother.  For the years we watched her slip away and slowly give up.  We watched as she detached herself from the world and become a recluse too ashamed to go out for fear of the people that would stare at her trembling body, rolling head and shuffled walk.  When she would get stuck mid shuffle too frequently she truly just would not leave the house save for Dr. appointments.  I cried for all the years she could not enjoy life.  I cried for my father who would not see her first victory in decades.  I cried for the grandchildren that did not know the woman she really is.  Trapped in a body that became her cage, she rarely spent time around them.

I cried for those that know this pain.  The pain of a daughter who has witnessed a disease ravage her mothers body, mind and soul.  As I heard a sound and feared it was her waking up, I quickly dried my tears, looked to the heavens for another round of praise and stood.  She was not up yet.  I went to get the serving bowls and nastalgia was still lingering.......Christmas 15 years ago, Mom cooking, her daughters (well three of the four) helping, Dad in the living room with my son, latin music blaring.  I remembered she was distant and we wondered what was wrong, the mask we did not know of, the disease we could not comprehend was so visible in her face and still......she made a holiday dinner and fed her 4 year old grandson with an ease and sadness I would not understand until years later.  She felt it then taking over and we could not understand.

Parkinson you horrible disease you, this woman, my mother, took a stand.  She's made of strong stuff.

One more nastalgic moment before that friend departs, it was that Christmas where I received the first news that my cancer was under control, Dad had held me in his arms and said 'See Kiddo, I knew you would win this fight, you come from strong stuff.'  How I miss him.  How on this day, I miss him as if he passed a day ago and not 2 years.

That's right Dad, I sure did come from strong stuff.  In a few days she will have the next surgery, then she will go for a few weeks of relearning her body.

Dinner is served and I watch as my son looks at his grandmother, she eats enjoying the food, his eyes swell at the site of her head, I see him take in a deep breath and sit proud and tall.  I say to myself as I look at him 'That's right Kiddo, you come from strong stuff.'

December 12, 2009

Goodbye, Dear Friend

Dear Friend,

You've told me time and again how brave I am; you'll never know the coward I truly am.
I've loved you not just once, twice but thrice our time. Like a milestone I got passed those feelings of mine.
The first time it was really just lying dormant within. In hindsight, how foolish could I have been?
What made that love ever more painful is that your're my best friend. The hurt is not once but twice to mend.
There was a time where bravery touched my soul.  Two friends to meet over dinner; a casual role.
Much care I took to hair and face. I even wore a blouse with beautiful lace.
The heels hurt with each step I took.  This heart of mine with each step...shook.
I ordered wine to soothe my nerves. You took the time to speak your verse.
In love you were as well I see. Your hearts desire was not for me.
Put in a good word for me you asked.  To a mutual friend; that's when I slid on my mask.
A brilliant smile I gave to you. Though my heart crumbled on cue.
No matter my love a friend I am; my word is true. And, to your love I spoke your name anew.
Not an interest she gave to your heart. I was sad for you, for me, for I knew from the start.
How hard it is to love and be loved not. To must accept unrequitted and stained heart.
I took some time away from you. With a  troubled son a move was due.
Hundreds of miles eased my pain. Yet...your calls and letters left me in vain.
Distracted and poverty stricken I returned. Our friendship anew was learned.
The second time was a big surprise. Daddy died and your comfort increased in size.
I tried to fight it, I swear I did. But your goodness and soothing way did me in.
Never a word, touch or thought you gave to me to ignite that spark. It just did, this treacherous heart, pulls me apart.
My emotions which ran wild. Not a friend around for awhile.
Your consistent friendship my heart askewed.  I blame you not; for you never knew.
That old ache I thought was long gone, spoke your name and that lost love was found.
Avoid you again I tried at last, but ignorant friend that you are would not let time pass.
Did you never really know how I longed for your love? All around us knew thereof.
Or the many ways we talked made my feelings true? I guess a part of you ignored the cue.
I lied to myself and you this third and last time. For this horrid love leaves not my heart or mind.
Each time we embrace, kiss or passionately unite, soon after I feel without a doubt your lack of love...ignite.
Yet still I yearn those small moments we share, even though after, each time, leaves me bare.
December 30th my love is the date, where I shall once again walk away.
No special reason for that date, just ease on the memory for our fate.
I shall not tell you even then, of my heart betraying me again.
I'm sorry for not being a friend first, for this wretched love has been cursed.
It constantly falls in love with a burst, and I fear this is the worst.
I shall miss you my best friend, I hope to one day receive your forgiveness; for my descend.

November 11, 2009

AndMore.....French Kiss my a$$

AndMore.....French Kiss my a$$


A lovely Friday night, I go home just in time to SLEEP, damn commute, I can get to china on my knees quicker then I can get to NJ on a fu_cking train and bus!

I wake to the lovely sounds of birds, confused rodents with wings due to this nature PMS weather. Some are gathering twigs for nests others are eating the twigs in preparation for their flight South, then there are the few flying South laughing at the others. Saturday morning, what will I do today?

Laundry, there's movies I rented and haven't seen, perhaps Confessions of a Shopaholic? Don't know why, I hate shopping. By the afternoon my weeklong stupor awakens and I crave a good ole fashion grilled cheese. I heat the pan, I slather the bread with butter, I toast one side, then the other. I get the white American cheese and pile it up, make sure both sides of the bread is really toasty. I sit in front of the TV with the sandwich, chocolate malt milk and the movie. AHHHHHHH what a Saturday.

I feel a bit nostalgic and blog. I feel a bit..................................nauseas; so I lay down.

Meg Ryan - my favorite part comes to life 'you make my azz twitch, you people make my azz twitch'

I never saw the afternoon, it was 3:00 am and the view from my sofa to the kitchen looked like those mirrors at the fair, squiggly and wrong. I try to get my foot to the ground but it gained 100 pounds per foot. The heat wave I felt was incredible and although I did not drink I could swear I had a hang over. I prayed for the best and ran aiming to get to the bathroom, but it was too many turns. The exorcist was childs play in comparison to my version.

7:00 am Sunday morning and finally the sprint from sofa to porcelain bowl was over..........so I thought.

I lay down and wonder.......will I see a day where I can enjoy in peace nature, laughing, bliss.........

7:15am....I hear thunder.....no......it's a trumpet......no......it's my stomach. Toxic dairy has found a new route, at this point I just stay and get acquainted with porcelain bowl..........

10:00 am - I sleep, I wake every couple of hours and sip some Ginger ale from a teaspoon. I mean is it that God and the Devil are tossing a quarter over me??????

9:45 pm Sunday - I wake to shower and go back to sleep - tomorrow is the commute.

The trip consists of dizzying effects and trying to hold down sips of Ginger Ale. Holding down the need to tell people to BATHE and praying that my next life will be better then this one.

Two days later - still sipping clear soda, attempts at soup were futile but I can finally fit into a pair of grey pants I had long given up wearing. I hate people that can eat. I hate people that can eat. Oh I said that already. 'you people STILL make my azz twitch'.

Third day - another attempt at soup, a yellow and green pea soup. I don't know why, maybe I'm just a sadist. Didn't last too long, I don't even bother complaining, I refuse to go to the company nurse again, she may just have that but/throat stopper she jokes about. Imodium AD must mean for after death because that shyt don't work.

I might as well give up the quest for food. I hate people that can eat. I hate cheese and soup and why the F does Ginger Ale say Ginger if it doesn't have any?????? You know you've fu_cked up in life when your own family can't find the time to bring you a bowl of da_mn soup!

If I see a cow I swear I would kick it! And if life isn't cruel enough the commute home isn't any better, people smell worse at the end of the day and all that running about makes all that Ginger Ale want to exit quickly.

If life ain't shyt then I've been sold the wrong manual and it came with a bad slice of cheese that just won't stop making my azz twitch!

November 07, 2009

Can you shop for love?

But I want him! She said. No matter the topic it always went back to him. The mystery man that comes into and out of her life minutes at a time. If she is very lucky a few hours in a night only to wonder in the morning when he is long gone if it ever really happened.


What do I do, what can I do to remove all the obstacles in our way? She pleaded. My answers were not what she was looking for however my answers come from history, experience and the all too known memory that does not allow me to escape such tragic mistakes.

'Let's shop you and me. Let's go to the mall where you can shop for any man. There is a return policy but in this fantasy you can choose the man you always wanted and therefore a return would not be necessary.' Yet still she began with his name and his qualities (few that there were).

'No! Let's begin again. You are not shopping for what you have. In the endless possibility mall, you are shopping for what you want.' The silence on the phone was endless. I sat in my car on a cold bitter night consoling someone I had only met a month before. She sees such wisdom in me that I believe I lack. But I understand her current predicament.

It is much easier for 'friends' and family to judge. To see clearly the mistake this man is. To lose patience over the time she invests and loses. It is much harder to just listen and allow someone to get to the point of no return, without judgment, without constantly telling them that the ending will be no different. It is much harder to slowly talk them through seeing what their heart masks.

'I want a man that cares, one that is charming, that will spend time with me, take walks, go to movies, sit for dinner and share some laughs. I want a man that loves me and shows it. Has no qualms in saying it, even less qualms in wanting it returned.' As her list grew her voice became a whisper.

'Well (and for this story we shall call her Madeline)...Well, Madeline, we are leaving the mall, you may have the financial means to purchase such a man but the cost is also knowing when you are ready for him. You may not have the final cost; which is deserving such a man. Tell me, does the one you pine for, does he have these qualities?'

'I believe without the obstacles he can be.' Her persistence and faith in this man is unbelievable and also admirable.

'Then you love who you hope he can be and not who he is. And it is alright if you don't believe so, there will be a time when your self esteem will flourish and you will ask yourself the same question and will not be able to lie to yourself.'

'How do you know?' she asks.

'I've been to that mall. I've asked myself and could not lie. I one day woke and remembered that I deserved better. I embraced the fact that I am at an age where it is even harder to meet someone let alone fall in love with someone that loves you back. But, at the end of the day, I am not with miserable company, nor am I with someone that leaves me lonelier then if alone.'

For weeks I have had a rented movie called Confessions of a Shopaholic. I don't know why I rented the movie since I really dislike shopping. I am not a great fan of the actors, but here it is. Luckily the rental does not include late fees; rather you don't get another rental until you return the current ones you have.

On this Saturday where there is nothing promising on the 300 plus channels I see the rental disc I find myself needing to visit that mall again, to stop at the Self-esteem Mart and Let go of a fantasy drive up, this day I need distraction, for I am ready yet not at the point of no return.

I am more surprised of the movie as each minute passes. It is funny, it is wrapped neatly in multiple lessons and more importantly it didn't distract me, it made me realize I am closer to the point of no return then I want to believe.

She shops to avoid the brutalities of life. Madeline obsesses over a selfish man to avoid the brutalities of life. I won't let go of fantasy that promises no reality because I don't want to face the brutalities of life.

She falls in love with a man and lies to him, to protect herself, him and her debt. Madeline falls in love with love and lies to herself to protect that fantasy that revives the passion in her heart that for too long had lied dormant. I lie to myself and to him because the truth is painful. But just like the character in the movie, one can only lie for so long before those lies become apparent to everyone including you.

Her redemption is to sell everything in order to pay her debt. Ironic, the very things she bought and created the debt she sold. She passed on a job that she dreamt of since childhood. Her redemption was to admit to herself that she had a problem that only she could fix. A relentless collection agent forced her to the point of no return.

Madeline is still on the crossroad of denial and slightly realizing roads. Still no where near the point of no return, that valley with dry lands and eerie views that makes one recreate their landscape to fit their reality. But I believe she will get there, for every time she calls to complain, she is forcing herself to listen to reality even though she describes it with a fantastic view.

As for me, I took the road of slightly realizing and am now on that long bridge over point of no return. I walk slowly for I know that I will lose more then I ever though I would gain. I will lose a friend that I love, I will lose the confidence built with someone, and most importantly I will lose the hope I had of a fantasy come to life. But when I reach my destination I will have to remind myself that the journey had a greater quest. For truth to rise even at a cost and to be the friend I had promised to be. And to let go of something that if I ever had the courage to do; I would simply open my hands to see that I never had it to begin with.

Can you shop for love? Yes. What you can't do is walk out of the mall with it.

Evil or Crazy?

If a person hates you because someone they know hates you, are they crazy or evil?
If a person declares an emotional and mental war with you, are they crazy or evil?
They had a reign of 20 years where in a space as small as a cave. One of fear and threats that keep all out.  No one sees the terror that was given to the beaten down.  Through the consistent thrashing of words and threats the beaten down are kept in the horror category.  They say the person is crazy, I say evil.  Power to ruin lives, push people over the edge then accuse them as failure = evil.

But at the end of the day, pity swells and one that has known sufferage would fight it but lose.  For pity is what such a person deserves.  Truly evil does not always win.  Actually evil has temporary moments of victory.  Goodness however reigns.

So I close the topic of crazy with this.....

If you laugh maniacally, you are scarily happy.
If you see outside the box and envision rainbows upon rainbows, you are visionary and slightly misunderstood
If you speak your mind more so then others and in doing so say what most won't, you are bold; honest.

But......if your main purpose, energy and self is spent on tormenting others, you are just plain crazy evil!

September 13, 2009

Sister of Crazy

They lead
A band of grown people, plotting together while in their 50s and 60s. A combined race with an anger of a past that was not their own. They put together a group in the guise of helping others. In reality they are Robin Hood in reverse. They each have mastered scamming the system, family, people, the needy and pretty much anyone they deem beneath them.

I was secluded at one time with such people. 12 elders as they like to call themselves. Each earning a living in high positions within companies, organizations and the like. Each competing to be the greater one. Each preaching the word while not practicing it. Each judging for they feel the trials and tribulations of their past gives them the right.

They set out to 'help' others. Branding people by a look, a word or a dress style then pressing on their advise, guidance and networking are needed. They set aside a place, charge a fee and then lock the doors behind. A time spent tearing you down, literally, only to rebuild the person as they want them, all the while chanting and praising their god for the great works they did.

If you don't return you are damned. If you do not join their group you are damned.

The unreachable woman
There is a woman close to my heart, a blood line holds us together. An 11 year old event changed her to a bitter, cold and unreachable woman. To others she wears the mask of a victim but anyone that is close enough will see and feel the claws under the cloak.

The blood line
There is a woman close to my heart, another blood line. Her spirit lies beneath the feet of her significant other. Pinned and crushed she barely holds on. Pinned and crushed she barely realizes she is pinned at all.

Me, myself and I
The woman in me, strong and brave, weak and cowardly. A scale that tips, balances then tips again. Holding on to a fantasy when the reality of it is so cruel.

Crazy? Sister of crazy? Crazy rules the world, we merely stand in the way.

There are some of us that band together. When one falls the others distract the beast. Taking turns so we don't all fall at once. Crazy? or Sister of Crazy?
Him
And of the brother of crazy? There is a man close to my heart. He sees not what is in front, the blinders are neatly placed and his ears hear not the wails of pain.

Brother oh brother
There is a man not close to my heart. He looks to where my home rests. Bitter and torn by a woman he bore his resentment toward me. We feel each others presence - we dispise each others connection. Crazy? Brother of Crazy?

At a time when loneliness has become ones closest friend, do you settle for the bits thrown or do you kick it back and let pride embrace you through the night?

Crazy or Normal? These are the things that go on in the year 2009. Most would say it is the norm of today, I say....it is crazy and the crazy rule the world.