AndMore....More Jury Duty Hell

AndMore....More Jury Duty Hell


Try as I might to plan ahead, life does like to make an example out of me. I made sure to go online and get the 'latest' bus schedule and stops to and from court. Theoretically, the bus picks me up a block from my apartment (like the last time), leaves me 4 blocks from the court house. I walk 3 blocks to take the same bus home that leaves me a block from my apartment. This bus should run hourly. For arguments sake we will call this bus Purgatory to Patterson PTP for short.

After a sleepless night of coughing and a slight fever, I manage to nod off sometime after 4am. The alarm sounds at 6am and I try my best to get up. The bus time for me to board is 8:04 so I hit snooze on the alarm for an hour. I finally get up and the shower but it doesn't wake me. The 2 cups of cappucino didn't either. I get to the bus stop at 7:55am (sometimes these buses are either early or really late). It was on time. YEAH. Since I didn't have much to walk, I wore heels. PAUSE

PAUSE REASON: I am not a heels person, unless I am going from point a to b in a car and barely walking, I will opt for flats. I'm in my 40's my back and legs just can't handle it. But for some insane reason I thought to be adventurous.

END OF PAUSE: Now the heels were only about 2 inches, but with the heat the one block walk made them feel like 3 inches. I also didn't take into consideration the deceiving side walks in my town that are hilly. I board the PTP and it's only the driver and me. Once we leave Pleasantville and head into Dante's Inferno that is Patterson, the Mexicans begin to board. It is amazing that it's only Mexicans. One in particular sat next to me. I don't know what was worse - the early morning stench of drunk breath or the urine odor.

Try as I might to let him know that I needed to get up (and move the hell out of there) he snored in a dead pan sleep. The driver seemed to be in a hurry taking winding roads like they were straight. People barely completely getting on and he would just step on it. Each time watching passengers try with all their might to reach an open seat without flying into the back of the bus. Within a few stops the bus was full (could be the HOURLY time schedule). I keep thinking that my persistent cold is due to this bus, the last time I couldn't help but feel that inoculations should have been required when boarding.

I begin to pray. Truly this jury duty obligation is a religious experience.

The driver leaves me at the stop and I go to the court house, same as last time. I am told that the actual Grand Jury Duty is held 2 blocks away. It is now 8:50, my feet are swollen from both the heat and walking, my knee is throbbing; reminding me that it was at one time injured. The heat seemed to intensify with each minute and soon my hair was stuck to my face in sweat. My pants felt like a wet suit and the stench from the PTP drunk was still taking residence in my nose.

I get to the brick building, walk through the metal detector that would of course go off. I made sure not to wear anything with metal thanks to the last time. However, brassieres for my girls are best worn with metal. I get the wand treatment and the officer is just staring at me. I stare back. WTF????

I am instructed to go to the second floor, the elevator is broken. My toes and heel feel as though they were sliced, I walk up the stairs. I see a sign for ladies room and walk in, I look in the mirror and almost scream at the sight. I do my best to fix up and look around. If I had walked into an alley it would have felt cleaner. I should have purchased depends. My cough has increased to the point where my shoulder blades now hurt. Again, I have lost my voice. Good thing since I was planning on telling the Judge that they should just fence up that town, throw gas and let God sort them out.

We are sworn to secrecy on the cases so I will only speak of the fellow jurors. You can't escape them. Those people. The ones that question everything. That clearly don't listen to instruction or take notes; then decides to ask a million questions. Our task is simple. Listen to a series of cases, one at a time and vote whether to indict or not. No judging. Simply hear the case from the Prosecutor and witness/es and decide whether there is enough to say, Yes, this is something that should go to court. One Jackass in particular would question everything, the prosecutor, the witness. Even if it was simple. For example and using something non related to any case. A person takes a knife and stabs another, confesses and has bloody hands. Jackass Juror = was there any witness? Was the persons prints on the knife?

Again - our duty is just to see if there is enough to say, this is an actual crime and there is enough to indict the person. The actual trial will handle the rest.

We are in a room that I am sure was built before there was frost, ever. The air conditioner had conveniently broken down. The water delivery was not made so no coffee. And just as icing on the cake...our foreman is about 300 years old and hard of hearing.

The heat increased the swelling of my feet, the pain was now up to my thighs. I put my hair up and still felt the trickles of sweat coming down. Luckily I brought a bottle of water and drank it like a hamster to make it last.

Full day of cases = You're FU_CKED! Your staying here and you'll like it. Interesting how the court employees, prosecutor included always had something to get or do in another room that had air conditioning.

The court day finally ends. The bus stop of two weeks is no more. Literally. I have to walk SIX blocks to the bus stop. I could feel calluses growing on my feet. I stand there for 72 minutes, in the sweltering heat, in front of an adult entertainment club. I KID YOU NOT. All there is on that street is that club and across the street is a tin box Mexican restaurant, one of dozens in the six block walk.

Same driver going back, faster speed. At this point I didn't care if we hit the side rail that protected one from going over the cliff, at least it would stop my pain. I see the slumps of that town disappearing and more trees in sight. A sign that I am close to Pleasantville. A block prior to my stop I ring the bell that tells the driver to stop. He doesn't. I shuffle to the front incapable of walking with the shoes that are now welded on. STOP!!!!

He says 'Bus no stop there no more'. I say, 'It stopped there this morning to pick me up on the other side.' He said.........................'Ju lucky'. He stops 3 blocks from where I live.

I shuffle home and I swear, I literally swear as I got closer my feet began to give up. Instead of walking faster I was shuffling baby steps. I no longer could feel my toes but the pain in my heels was unbearable. The heat along with my pace slowing gave the effect of my block moving away from me. I began to sing in my head 'I think I can - I think I can', the Blue engine that could.
I don't remember going up the wooden stairs or looking for my keys, I just know that I suddenly found myself sitting on Ole Faithful (my futon) with both my feet in a bucket of ice cold water, the A/C miraculously was on and I felt my body begin to adjust.
I showered barely feeling my feet, I could have been on the stumps of my ankles for all I cared. I went back to Ole Faithful and I cried.
I hate Jury Duty. I hate that FU_CKING bus. I want all Mexicans taken to the border. I want the judge held in a cell with no A/C, water or shoes for a month and made to walk on glass. I hate this cough. I hate that I lost my voice again. I JUST FU_CKING HATE THE DAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Tomorrow I go back.
~g

Moon Child.....inspiration me

If I could describe myself I would use the words moon child. I love the midnight hour on a full moon night when you look up and feel as though you could touch the moon. I love that it shines light on an otherwise dark night. I love that I feel so alive when I should be in the dead of sleep. I sleep in the comfort of two drawings. One is of 3 wolves in a winter scenery, one running along, two staring out under a moonlit night, a dream catcher floating in the middle of landscape. The second drawing is on a rather large dream catcher. A lone wolf howling toward a moon. A profile of an Indian along side of that moon. Whether day or night when I look at those drawings - I am peaceful.


Most days I am quite the recluse. Reading, meditating, working, learning, studying or just contemplating. I would use the excuse of not having a car, but even then, I rarely left my humble abode. With the chaos of commuting, the constant dealing of people's characteristics, the long walks between transport, I relish the weekend to just rest. To just be. I watch some television and on Sunday's I watch the Preachers scream their lessons. The church bells ring their songs. The birds chant their tunes. I am peaceful.

Just when I think I am thoughtless, inspiration creeps in.

I think of the people in and out of my life. I think of co-workers. Friends. Family. Even of the strangers that cross my daily path. I can't help but let the watcher in me observe.

Negativity is in the air like the very air we breath. Don't believe me? Tell someone you feel this recession will just get better. Tell someone that the market will improve. Tell someone that you will get out of a rut. Tell someone you are in love. Get back to me on the most popular replies. Negative or positive?

I give classes on being positive on prayers and all that is spiritual. If I teach 100, I am lucky if 10 get it. 100 will leave feeling lifted, 90 will speak to others and deflate.

Someone sent me a video (you tube) of a man that had videoed a rainbow which looked like two rainbows side by side. You could hear him go from awe, to exhiliration, to laughing, to outright crying. 4 minutes worth of this, all the while the camera is aimed at the rainbow. I must admit, I got a kick out of it, even wanted some of that mushroom he must have eaten. But then...as I sit nursing a cold, reading, meditating, working, learning, studying or just contemplating; that I had not seen a rainbow in many many years. How if I looked at one now, I would just stare at it in awe. That man in all his glory just loved that rainbow, that double rainbow. Who could honestly say they have that much passion? For anything or anyone other then themselves?
It is so easy to say, I can't do this and I can't do that. When you won't know unless you try. To have the nerve to want something and not the nerve to believe you deserve it. To settle for less when more is just around the corner. To listen to a naysayer instead of those that are positive. To lose faith because you suffer rather then embrace faith to end it.

Yes... If I had the ability to have a night out in the moon light, surrounded by the wonderful trees, I would just bask in it. If there was a body of water near, I would dip in. I would think of nothing but the possibilities that the morning would bring. At the midnight hour I would make a mental list of all those things I deserve, believe and positively embrace. That's what the moon child in me does.

Where's your moon child?

07/11/2010
~g

Weddings without the nightmare..David Tutera taught me a thing or two about humble cake

I have written many, many AndMore’s about the nightmares of weddings. I was hesitant about writing the following in an AndMore because it was not so much an event that happened in my life, rather an awakening.


So….since I was at a seminar as an observant, I shall write this as the watcher I can be.

David Tutera comes to NY

I am a member of the Learning Annex, I love their services. They have live classes as well as online and on those many nights sleep escapes me I can do some learning. One day I notice that David Tutera, star of the My Fair Wedding on the WETV channel was going to do a seminar on how to become a successful Event Planner. It was a live class. Most of you that have followed my writing know of my disdain for weddings.

Aside from the fact that I barely see relationships last, I know many that marry because of their clock ticking, just for the production of having a wedding better than their friends. And, some people that start out nice enough and become the full blown Bridezilla shows are made of; losing friends, family relationships and their own morals in the process. Yes, I have great disdain for weddings.

A friend of mine has an event business that she has let fall to the way side. Allowing life and its turmoil’s to get in the way. This woman is vibrant, if anyone can throw a party with zeal and flair, this woman can. I wanted her to go to this seminar and let this man that I watch on TV talk about event planning and hopefully igniting her goals.

In the show I watch this man transform weddings for couples that would be able to afford to have the weddings of their dream. What I like about the show is that David also reminds them what that day is about. He goes out of his way to make sure they are not stressed or upset or turning their wedding into a mass production mess. I have sat to watch this show and cry over a woman that bought her dress online; it was too small, stained and just miserable to see. I watched him turn a ridiculous idea of medieval costume wedding into a beautiful, colorful wedding that brought people back into time without seeing swords and fake fires from a dollar store.

Yes, if anyone can remind my friend why she wanted to get into the business this man can.

The day came for the seminar, Hilton Hotel in NYC on July 7th, this would mean taking a 9:40pm 2 hour bus home to NJ afterward. I dreaded the day. Why on earth had I let her talk me into going with her?

We get to the hotel and it was like groupies! Woman and men there early and on line already, we were an hour early ourselves. We sit in the room reserved for this seminar and wait. The energy in that room could just lift ones spirit and let it soar.

He finally arrived and the room electrified. He had no special planned and robotic speech, he let the forum unfold. Brides, event planners and fans of the show asked questions and he answered without batting an eye. This man that started as a 19 year old florist turned event planner guru – just stood there with humility and spoke as if he were a friend.

He gave sound advice, shared stories and even gave hints and tips. What amazed me is that I had two pages (front and back) of notes. WTF???? I am not bride, I am not even in a relationship, I am not an event planner or even intending on being one.

Well……his advice and experience is helpful to anyone. His energy just gave me the jolt I needed to get my writing motivated. The man is a motivator and doesn’t even realize it. I got on my bus writing more and more. As I unlocked the door to my apartment at 11:30 pm, exhausted, knowing the heat in the place would be unbearable until the AC could cool it down, I knew that I would be writing, even if mentally.

Yes, I do believe I have found a way to see weddings as something other than a nightmare. If this man could just get brides to listen to his logic, Bridezilla show would be out of business. Event planners would be much more successful, knowing that ‘putting yourself out there’ will get the clients and making ‘their dreams a reality’ will expand your business but most importantly in anything you do, ‘be confident’.

Sounds good to me! If I had to eat humble pie over the years of rambling about weddings, I would make that pie a cake and that cake would be made of 2 part wisdom, 1 part experience and a whole lot of sugar and spice. I might not eat the whole thing, but a little humble cake wouldn’t hurt. Right???

07/07/2010

Jury Duty; not my choice

Soooooo......I get that mail. The summons to be part of a grand jury for the county I now live in. The day arrives when I must go in and see if in fact I will be selected by a judge to sit 2 days a week for 9 weeks and along with 22 other people vote on what cases will go to trial.

For weeks many have tried to give me all the reasons that worked for them to get 'off' of the jury duty. Of course as luck would have it this happens soon after I no longer have a car. I spend a week trying to get the quickest commute to a court house in a town I have not been to.

The bus luckily stops at the corner from where I live - a quiet simple little town. I wake up as I usually do for work and take my time getting ready. I am a bit slow since my leg for the last 3 days has taken to just dragging about. The pain a remembrance of the week when I had that falls at the end of winter.

I stand outside and wait for the bus that is scheduled to show up at 8:00, it is 8:34 when it does show up. A rather large African American driver opens the door and smiles. I ask how much and whether my normal bus pass can be used. He says yes and asks where I intend to stop. I tell him the cross streets, he looks me up and down and says 'Good Luck'.

I walk further into the bus which is completely empty (baffling me as to why it was so late). I watch out the filthy window to see the many houses -large beautiful houses. Once we leave my town and enter the next the view changes. After the first liquor store, you get the notion that perhaps salons and liquor stores have all decided to hang together. There were 2 per block. The passengers that boarded nearly every block seemed to digress in clothing and mannerism the farther we went.

I got up and moved to the end of the bus, somehow I felt that if guns and knives were suddenly flinging through the air, I would be safer in the back.

I had no idea I lived near so many Mexicans. Almost every restaurant had the same look large filthy sign that stated Mexican type food and doors barely hanging on hinges. There were signs on boarded windows alerting that bills could be paid there as well. The bus noise went from hushed talking to boom box sounding MP3 players. No one seemed to own a belt as they preferred their pants falling to their knees, men and women alike. Although Latina, we know we are not from the same race and therefore the stare downs begin.

Note to self: wear depends next time.

After a while I sat in the back in a fetal position, watching the landscape degrade with each block to the dimensions of hell. I wondered why they don't send SWAT teams to pick up jurors if this is the condition of the city where the main county court resides.

I thought: If I'm lucky a drive by shooting will end this quickly for me.

The driver announces the cross street I am to get off. I walk to the front where the chatter stops with each steps and eyes are on me. (I mean really?? I'm THAT different?) The door opens and the heat and humidity embraces me in a Tango that had no music.

I take one step out of the three and turn around. The driver has the mega-watt smile and says 'that's right, this is the stop, walk 3 blocks that way.' He points and all I see is a sea of more salons, liquor stores, adult entertainment sports bar and an occasional market.

I finally descent the bus and it takes off. That driver is not stupid. If gangs are hard to find, it amazes me, as this really seems like Gang Central. I hold my purse close to me, hold my head up high and begin my prayers (might as well make this a religious experience).

As I reach the court house I stop and just stare. The outer part of the building seems new. It is polished, granite, tall, intimidating yet beautiful. Completely surrounded by shrubs and greenery so fresh you can smell its growth. A Muslim taking care of the few weeds that dared to grow was whistling (I thought that wasn't aloud).

I look around and am amazed, this block is literally the only clean, beautiful and well protected (all the cops I didn't see throughout the ride were here, like soldiers waiting on Caesars command). I squared my shoulders and went up the stairs. The entrance is blocked with the same device you see at the airport and you must empty your pockets and leave your purse on the conveyor belt. Of course, I pass through the path and sirens go off. I am searched with a wand that I would swear wasn't even on. I am told to go to the 3rd floor and I enter the building further. At this point I realize they had wasted their entire renovations budget on the outside because the inside was a DUMP.

The juror waiting room looks like a miniature auditorium, the coffee machines were mostly broken and I swear the milk machine had a rubber nipple and a lever. (I think it was one of the first machines made to imitate a cow).

I get some coffee, desperate for the caffeine as I am still in denial and swear I must be asleep and therefore seeing things worse than they really were. Not a chance.

An HOUR later we are ushered into long corridors, stairways that do not end (I guess the elevators are for the elite only), a few elderly were pretty much crawling up the stairs, 3 flights, my leg gave up and it just dragged behind. I didn't care; I was hoping the lack of oxygen I felt would just kill me and end this misery once and for all. A court room where a judge speaks until I feel like I am in a coma is so small I am sure King Tuts sarcophagus is larger. We are sitting so close in short pews that I am sure I can name all the different soaps used.

No matter the attempts this judge couldn't care less, unless you were dying, taking care of someone that is dying or a criminal, you would do your civil duty. I believe it to be a hostage situation or even a step prior to prison. I mean, you have no choice, you are threaten with contempt aka; prison and are pretty much treated as though you haven't the right to your first amendment.

We are then ushered back to the corridors where we descend, we just keep going down, and mildew odor greets you. Grand Jury is held in the basement. I KID YOU NOT. We are then told the riot act. The friendly smiles the clerks had before were replaced with impatience and curt replies. Forms are handed out and we are then told that we had better get used to our surroundings.

That's like telling Americans to give up their freedom. Oh wait, that is exactly what it is.

We are finally released and left to find our own way out of that maze of hell. I finally found a ladies room since potty breaks isn’t even allowed. The bathroom was dim, damp and just NASTY.

I walk through Gang Central, get to the bus stop and 1.5 hours later the bus arrives and I'll be damned if the same driver isn't the one picking me up. The bus is packed, but that one seat in the back was empty. A fine seat to crawl on, get into a fetal position and cry, wondering what you did to the Lord to constantly receive these punishments.

Once I get home I stand under the hot shower until my flesh steams on its own. I am too tired and disgusted to walk the 25 minute walk to the nearest liquor store and get some wine or VODKA. I thought of all the liquor stores I had seen in the other town and lost the need for booze.

I laid down on the futon and just stared at the ceiling thinking......I really need to get the FUCK out of here.

I am sentenced to 9 weeks, two days a week.

06/25/2010

zSHARE video - true blood 301.flv

zSHARE video - true blood 301.flv

AndMore....it just keeps getting better

AndMore....it just keeps getting better


Well, I finalized the Jeep or so I thought so. The auto shop didn't open until 10am due to an emergency. After waiting ALL DAY for donate ur car, they finally called at 6pm to say that they couldn't get there, the service they were using were towing cars in an accident (little did I know the pile up was in on the highway nearby and going home was not possible).

The mechanic showed me the engine and there were many pieces that just combusted. He offered an engine he had, but I am a daughter of a mechanic and know that once another (used and abused) engine is placed you are living in an auto shop. He agreed to handle the paper work with donate ur car on Monday. Donate ur car would send me a receipt in the mail.

We (my driver who must have felt like a hostage) got to my place after 10pm. She lives about an hour away and was too tired to drive home. She was nice enough on Sunday to take me food shopping and to get some things, like a shower head since mine deteriorated while she was about to shower.

I cooked and she ate and decided dinner would be swell, getting rid of her so I can have some time to digest the weekend was just NOT happening. Finally it's evening and she is trailing out and her car is now making a loud noise. Could my luck be contagious????

New shower head in place, I decide to take a shower. It just blows right out of the snout and I nearly drown. I have an old old tub so unless I want rug burns on my azz I had better get some material for the shower. Cab ride to less then 2 miles away Home Depot $15.00 (didn't help Dumb and Dumber were in that car trying to find the place - why ask me for directions?????)

It takes an hour for a cab back ($5.00 trip, this guy was getting off soon to go on a date - hate the baztad). He knew exactly where he was going.

An hour of repairing the shower, I wish I were taller. And finally a nice long hot shower.

Monday morning I get the mail and am summoned for 9 week jury duty, twice a week. Patterson! How the F am I supposed to get there?? Does my job even pay me for that? Why should I serve in the most corrupt state I have been in?????

I decide to clean the bathroom, it's morning and I hear a noise in there. I shut the sink faucet and I'll be damned if it's not the lady upstairs getting tapped so hard I thought that bed was going to crash into my bathroom.

Now....I'm not the quietest bird when the dry spell that is s_ex meets water. But this woman was speaking in tongues. Hate that By_tch! The only time I want to hear that noise is when it's coming from MY bedroom!

I get a call from my sons school, since I moved and cashed what was left of my 401K to handle the move, deposits, etc. The income tax shows that I made too much for him to receive grants like last year. WTF???? It wasn't so much that I was able to purchase a condo. They called to say that it doesn't matter what the money was used for, its income. We must apply for a loan.

I hate Mondays.

An old boyfriend (by old I mean more then a decade) emails me. He found me via Facebook but I kept ignoring his 'be my friend' request. Actually I rarely get on and when I do, I just chat with my niece. He says it's been a while (gee I would say 15 years is a while) and that he just had a thought about me. (Really???? Just like that???)

He and I broke up when after a year I asked 'where do you see this relationship going?' and he answered 'Well, just the way it is. I don't want to settle then find that something better came along.' Straight face and all. I turned - walked and never looked back. After two failed marriages he 'suddenly realized that only one person in his life ever really loved him.' I was curious so I asked 'who?'

'You.' I couldn't help but laugh. I mean really.....really????? I sat and waited for yourgomaniac azz??? You really think that???? I gave him the usual line I give people that find me after a decade or more 'I was not in the witness protection, if you haven't seen or heard from me, it's on purpose. Good luck with your life.'

What a JACKAZZ!
I get an email that night from him. I'm sadistic enough to read it. A long diatribe of how lonely he is and how we are both single and how if I need anything he would be there and maybe I would consider just being friends or ..............here it comes........................ready?????..............Friends With Benefits (FWB). I hit delete, I blocked his account and just shook my head at how life really likes to get a giggle at my expense.

FWB? He never asked of my son, what I have been up to, just right into....hey - sounds like no one is in your bed, no one is in mine, let's fix that 'while I wait for something better to come along). Here's my take on FWB!
We are not friends. In a short span of a few written communications the most you have done is annoy me. As for FWB....I have an outlook of it and here it is:

It's like an all you can eat buffet that has minimal open hours and you get cut off while enjoying that first plateful.

It's also like watching the person in front of you sniffing and poking the food about, you have to fill your plate after them, sit down knowing that more people are sniffing and poking that all you can eat buffet (that really does not allow you to eat all you can eat).
If I were a dinosaur I would be a T-Rex. Nothing would sniff or poke my meat or they would become meat. There would be no time limit, I ate till I was full, then ate some more later. F_uck Buffets! I can cook my own dam_n meal and no one else is sticking their nose, finger or any other body part in it.
Here's my take on 'if you need anything let me know':

One day I am going to choose someone and when they say that just let it rip:

"Well.......since you asked.... I NEED:

A job close to home
College fund
A car
My knee fixed
A relationship with no hidden motives or the 'just settling' mode
A cure for panic attacks
Someone that knows how to scratch that persistent itch between my shoulder blades
A better life
A tv series that doesn't turn into a soap opera
A family that resembles Stepford
Surround sound so I can finally hear that f_ucking TV
A gyn that can remember they are going into tender (and mostly untouched) territory
An online social network system where people can't find you
Local activity for 40+ people that is not Weight Watchers
Insect free world
A psychiatrist that does home visits.......for free
Vi_brator that does not require batteries
Supermarket with parking available (after my new car appears)
Gov. Christi Kreme working in a factory
NY Police to stop searching me in the subways (I mean really.....really??? I look like a threat???)
An espresso machine that doesn't leak all over my counter
A washing machine and dryer

So....................when will you have all that done, Ms. or Mr. If you need anything call me so I can pretend I am unavailable since you should just know that I say that just to sound helpful NOT to actually be helpful!!!!!!!!!!!!????
That's my extended weekend.....how the F was yours????????
~g

You sit and write of all the optimism you can think of.  Poetry, spirituality and even when the moment strikes emotionally.  You hit send and give many a moment of peace, all the while yearning for some.

I know the words that make sense.  Time heal all wounds.  Love and be loved.  Forgive and forget. There is always worse.  Brighter days are to come.

I know the scriptures that would apply.  Psalm 34:19 "Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the LORD delivers him out of them all."  Romans 12:10 "Love one another with brotherly affection [as members of one family], giving precedence and showing honor to one another."  Hebrews 8:12 "For I will be merciful and gracious toward their sins and I will remember their deeds of unrighteousness no more."  Have faith and so on.

I know that belief is the power and seed that make things come to life.  But....there are those days and some lengthier then not that make me feel otherwise.

I write of healing yet know first hand that some wounds fester regardless of how you treat it.  I write of love.  Yet barely receive it.  I forgive yet watch the person/s do it all over again only worse each time.  There may always be worse but must I see first hand daily?  Brighter days may be coming, but surely these clouds are not moving.

Perhaps it's time I put the pen and ink down.  After all if you are writing of what should be and yet losing the belief in it, you may as well write in invisible ink.

Perhaps it's time to walk away.  From literally everyone.  After all, if all you have left is a small patch of flesh, a mere bit of heart and depleted soul, do you really have anything left to offer?

Perhaps it's time I became the reader of another writer.  After all, one can not write if they've forgotten how to read.

Perhaps in all this agony, loneliness, pain and misery there is a writer or a person who can either speak or hug the pain away will magically appear and give that old adage a mother tells a child 'there there now, all will be right".  And those words or hug will be the wattage that turns on my darkened belief.

~05/09/2010   ~g

Soul mate? or Prison mate?

I always hear people talk about soul mates (finding them, wanting them, waiting for them), I have issues with soul mate. I always wonder of the young widow. In soul mate theory is she destined to live out the rest of her life alone? 'Oh I met him and he died a month later, the next 40 years will be lonely"..??.. I don't think so........~g



Soul-mates are people who bring out the best in you. They are not perfect but are always perfect for you. ~Author Unknown


Friends will keep you sane. love could fill your heart, a lover can warm your bed, but lonely is the soul without a mate. ~David Pratt


I met my soul mate...but he didn't recognize me. ~gracey castro


You came into my life, turned it upside down and now it all makes more sense. ~Kat Given

I asked a friend (a soul mate enthusiast) 'how do you know when someone is the one for you?' 'How do you know it's right?' 'How do you recognize if your heart is just having a sadistic time with the rest of your emotions?' She said, read that book you bought. Page 55. (I guess I should read past page 28)

Page 55 and a few pages more- ~Jessica Shepherd

When it's time to let go......ask yourself....

Are you trying to analyze the person's behavior instead of listening to your heart's simple truth?

Is the person no longer who you thought they were? Do you find yourself wanting to change them into a fantasy, or back into the person you thought they once were?

Do they share the same enthusiasm in spending time with you?

Do you feel good about yourself while with them and when not around them?

Gracey's Journal - 2007


'I've come to the realization that my heart once belonged to Benedict Arnold. She betrays me...leads me to the fountain of love only to find dry sand. She leads me to the world of fantasy where an embrace is ignited by the hearts longing and not just passions call, then I wake up. She mocks me...sending me on a boat in rough waters only to land on an island that is isolated. And the pumping laughter is heard throughout my body. She is vicious this heart of mine.'

But then I think...now I think...is she vicious? Or is my heart just tired of trying to tell me something I refuse to accept?

They say you go through things over and over because you have not learned the lesson needed. Perhaps we must cry Uncle, Uncle and stop. Listen and learn so that we can then admit.......your heart is playing a trick on you. Perhaps instead of waiting and looking we should be stopping and learning; making oneself aware that they don't control the boat, the plane, the speed of light in which you find 'the one' 'the soul mate' 'the love'. We can only drive it and hope the waters are calm and the way is not lost.

Perhaps in any relationship we should stop, listen and learn. Then decide if this path leads to greater lands or if we are circling a canal over and over......

Inspire me this. Does our heart lie? Does it know better? Does it rule us? Does it give us a chance to feel things even temporarily where we would otherwise not feel it at all? I often wonder...then realize like right now...she is quiet as she tends to be when I question her, this treacherous heart of mine.

Perhaps Helen said it best...

Relationships are like Rome, difficult to start out, incredible during the prosperity of the 'golden age' and unbearable during the fall. Then, a new kingdom will come along and the whole process will repeat itself until you come across a kingdom like Egypt...that thrives, and continues to flourish. This kingdom will become your best friend, your soul mate, and your love. ~Helen Keller.

~g

Regret, sorrow and pain

Have you ever done something that you regret?
Have you ever done so thinking the result would change?
Has the memory of it made you so upset?
The levels of morality sinking without range.

Have you looked in the mirror and held your hand to cover?
Made a choice you can't change and yet know you wouldn't?
Have you given so much that you're lost with a lover?
Have you said over and over, you shouldn't, you shouldn't?

Have you ever reached a point of self disgust?
Have you sunk so low you can't recognize your mind?
Did you find a way to walk away? Knowing it's unjust?
Have you been at the crossroad, steets Blind and Find?

How do you walk away? When do you say enough? When?
How do you accept what will not be? When do you find your self respect?
Have you looked back repeatedly to where you've been?
Did you find a way to turn it around without being suspect?

Have you ever cried until you couldn't breathe
Do you ever find a way to stop? To say no more?
Is there a way to do it without causing another to seethe?
I ask you, have you? Tell me...I implore.

Can movies remind you to stop being pathetic?

So.....here I am at 11:00 pm watching for the second consecutive time, The Holiday. Recently I've not only grown attached to the words Iris writes to Jasper, but can relate.

"Jasper, we both know I need to fall out of love with you. Would be great if you would let me try."

Her opening speech speaks of all types of love and her specialty was unrequited love. Boy did she nail that description to the T. But before I begin with that movie, my day started pretty late. I woke to begin my Sunday ritual of a few hours watching classics. Truly those movies are worth mentioning, no FX, so sex to see, just actors actually proving each and every emotion, plot and capturing an audience with nothing else but talent.

'How to Marry a Millionaire'. I find the comedy in that refreshing - every time. Lauren Bacall at her youngest, enthusiastic self. A story of three women on the prowl for millionaire men to marry. Short version, they find millionaires but instead fall in love with men beneath their dreams. Well, for the exception of Lauren who falls in love with a man she thinks works in a gas station, but is in fact a millionaire. Many lessons were learned (the hard way) but with comedy and flare you cheered them on while they learned. You smile as the credits appear knowing you watched something with a bit of a lesson in it. Such as....be careful of what you ask for..... don't judge a book by its cover..... take the time to actually read a book regardless of its cover.

Next was Gentlemen prefer blondes (another with Marilyn Monroe), this one takes a bit to watch as Marilyn was not a good actress but she gave a stellar try. Her role was similar to the previous movie, still looking for a rich man, she does fall in love and marry one, but must prove herself worthy and you are left stunned that she actually manages to. Jane Russell on the other hand, just likes to have fun but falls in love kicking and screaming all the way, ever the rebel her character. But if you pay attention, you learn much from this one as well.

As a parent you learn to let your child (adult that they are) make their mistakes. You learn that not everything is as it appears and some things are actually just as they appear. You learn that old rich men, really just want that young thing and make fools of themselves in the process. Yes... much can be learned if you pay attention to the plot and the details.

I ran some errands and was much surprised to see at the mall many couples, families and children. Smiles and hugs, gifts and laughter made me think that it has been a long, long time since such happiness was seen in public. I went to the makeup section and was given a makeover. I sat there as she asked....what are your plans for valentines?

I smiled and said, "I am actually living it right now….a treat for myself. Then it's off to do some chores." Much to my surprise, she did not do the norm....there was no pity party. She began to chatter of how great she thought it was for me to think of myself first then the chores. The makeover was wonderful; it felt great to be pampered. I bought some items (proof she was good at her job) and was trapped in the mall when even more people showed. Not much of a shopper I maneuvered my way out pouting that I could not stop at Starbucks. Instead of waiting on that line, I chose to go home and make my own. Having seen the Laundromat full when I past I knew I would just go home and handle my chores tomorrow since I had the day off.

And so a great disappointment later from the usual miscommunication (when will I ever learn), I found myself pouring a glass of wine and fighting that foe, Ms. Self Pity. The Holiday movie came on and wheels began to turn.

Again, what she wrote striking a nerve immediately.

"Jasper, we both know I need to fall out of love with you. Would be great if you would let me try."

"This - This twisted, toxic THING between us, is finally finished! I'm miraculously done being in love with you! Ha! I've got a life to start living. "

"And you're not going to be in it."

"But I think what I've got is something slightly resembling, gumption"

And...there it is….the last line. Gumption!!! I can write the goodbyes, speak of strength and plan on moving on. But without gumption you just end up.....

".....feeling as small and as insignificant as humanly possible. And how it can actually ache in places you didn't know you had inside you. And it doesn't matter how many new haircuts you get, or gyms you join, or how many glasses of chardonnay you drink with your girlfriends... you still go to bed every night going over every detail and wonder what you did wrong or how you could have misunderstood. And how in the hell for that brief moment you could think that you were that happy. And sometimes you can even convince yourself that he'll see the light and show up at your door."

I was waiting for gumption as if it were on sale somewhere or on a corner with a sign. Maybe up in the sky and would fall right on me.  Silly really.

But......Hollywood classics made it clear today, gumption has not failed to arrive, I fail to see it within me and make it rise.

Who doesn't want to hear what Graham spoke to Amanda.....?”I'm in love with you. I apologize for the blunt delivery, but as problematic as this fact may be, I'm in love... with YOU."

But after so many years and still in the same boat less a life preserver, Captain, oars or even the love pining over......I realize that I'm waiting for a Jasper to be a Graham when I should be waiting on nothing and no one while participating in my destiny. I shouldn't throw myself into the preferences of others or grasp for the ideals that don't match my own.

More importantly, Iris got away. She up and left taking the time to find herself. I may not be so fortunate to find someone in another country to swap homes with for a spell. But I am sure I can create that same ocean of a divider with a little…………..gumption.

Yes....Sunday classics are my favorite. Where I can watch from the old movies what some of us still haven't learned and need the reminder of.

~g

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.'

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.