Why Didn't I Take Her Advice?

When someone you know quite well gives you advice maybe it is worth taking. Chances are since you know her well she probably knows you well. She wants what is best for you and she understands your history. She knows deep down what you want and what you don't want. She has seen the tears and the smiles and remains by your side. She told me if you do this, this will probably happen. Here I am sitting in my consequences with my heart torn out and crying like a baby. Why didn't I listen to her? Why didn't I listen to myself? I can't stop crying. I can't stop hurting.

I guess this is what happens when I hold too much in for too long. The damn breaks and it hurls me forth into chaos.

On the Edge

Maybe it is lack of sleep... Maybe it is PMS... May it is all this change all at once... Maybe it is the fogginess of what my future holds... Maybe... What ever the case may be I am all of a sudden profoundly sad. I am on edge. Like the number 13, the word "edge" has popped up numerous times in my life. It seems to be a motif for my fear of heights. If I elevate myself too much I am bound to find myself on the edge peering down at a dangerous drop. I can almost feel the dirt beneath my feet giving way...

Beyond Exhaustion

Last night the heat seeped into my flesh and slowly cooked me into a state of utter exhaustion and sleeplessness. My air conditioner and fan were no match for this high temperature cocktail. I tossed and turned and kvetched all evening long. Comfort was unattainable. When I did fall into my dreamland it was swimming with insects and arachnids. I got stung by a bee, pierced by a centipede and harassed by a spider. They all danced upon my flesh regardless of my pleas for them to stop.

I rose from my bed this morning dizzy with lack of sleep and itchy... This afternoon I have a date with my car to take a nap.

This Light Bends

Internally, all day long I talk to myself. I am my very own therapist. I say, "Paloma, what will bring you happiness and relief today?" I adjust my back and sit up straighter, take a look at the apple resting on my desk, and find strength in my heart to do the "right thing". I list what I want to accomplish and what I want. Resting my eyes on the words helps me visualize what "will" happen, not what "might" happen. A calm washes over me. I am deeply loved and I can feel it.

I have had to do a great deal of letting go this year and it has been rough, but I understand that this is the process of life: letting go in order to make room for the new. I was starting to turn into a robot, but now I am feeling intensely again. This adjustment is positive even when I am crying. Tears can be cleansing when they don't come from hysteria, rather they have become evidence of coming to terms with my place in this world. What I want and what I need is unfolding to me. My grip is loosening because now I just know instead of questioning why good things are happening. I am grateful. I am grateful to be alive.

Can't Wait for Love

Last night I took my flight back from Portland, OR. I had a great time visiting with my sister, brother-in-law, niece and nephew. It was a relaxing trip filled with cold weather and warm hugs. The beauty I found in my family's faces and in the Oregon foliage and homes was uplifting and meaningful.

Upon my return to Burbank, CA I met my father and mother loaded off of two glasses of wine and tomato chedder chips. I gleefully chanted about meeting my angelic nephew and my ridiculously charming niece.

By the time I drove home and finally fell asleep it was late.

I dreamt that my mom, dad, sister, brother, brother-in-law, niece, nephew and cousins witnessed my car blowing up in the middle of the day. The image of the explosion danced upon our eyes.

I woke up this morning wondering about my personal transformation. Am I combusting, too? Perhaps, I am saying goodbye to my old self afterall.

No Longer Trapped

How do you swing from "Top Dog" to "Who-Are-You"? You take the Year of the Rat and stir a little and then add a ticking time bomb. This is when being the Bomb is not 'da bomb.

I have straddled Change. I've let it kiss my peppermint lips and smirk at me.

Last night I dreamt that every man I know became a transvestite and I couldn't have been happier. They looked so colorful and their wit was like honey on a taco. I climbed up a steep hill dazzled at the numerous men sporting sparkly gowns. They stared at me as my face burned red. A tropical breeze moistened my brow and I felt like I was being held up by marshmallow arms. Oh, happy day!

It was the magic hour and I was trapping the images in my head savoring the gold that clung to every one's bodies. Up into the sky we walked and though we were tired the road was soft under our feet.

I am genuinely happier than I been in a very long time. The future looks bright, shiny and new. Up I go. Up I go.

Week of Death

Last week was the "Week of Death" in the waking world for me. Four distinct instances forced me to look Death square in the eye.

April 7, 2008 - Ducks
Early Monday morning upon my drive to work I watched two ducks waddling about upon the on ramp to the 5 Freeway. Several vehicles swerved out of the way of the ducks. They were adorable and ignorant of the accelerated world they were in. In a flash I witnessed a BMW as it drove over them. Feathers and blood sprayed behind the car. My heart sank. Astonished by what I saw, I drove on and reflected on the careless and self-centered nature of that driver. I wondered if he or she thought twice about murdering those animals.

April 12, 2008 - Jogger
Saturday morning I was driving west on Santa Monica Boulevard and just about to take a left onto La Brea Boulevard when I discovered a man lying on his side on the sidewalk staring blankly into traffic. He was in a jogging suit and blood was smeared across his face. Two cops were leaning near him and a woman was crying and shaking her head a few feet away. The man was dead. Anyone could see it in his eyes.

As I continued on my route I thought about that poor dead stranger with his arm stretched out beneath his head marking his end as a beaten pedestrian.

April 13, 2008 - Rattlesnake and Skunk
Sunday afternoon I went to the Old Zoo in Griffith Park to celebrate my friend's birthday. After feasting on chips and cake we all decided to investigate the old habitats. Upon taking a series of steep steps we all encountered a rattlesnake that had been beheaded and derattled. This angered me. The snake's life had been cruelly taken by some mean-spirited kids and left like an omen at the bottom of the steps.

As we crawled up the steps I couldn't help thinking about the bats found in Griffith Park on Friday afternoon on April 11th with rabies. Was the rattlesnake an omen?

We travelled beyond the habitats and off onto trails marked with mustard plants and the evidence of last year's forest fire. I looked up at the sky and into the trees and discovered the charred remains of a skunk in mid flight. The last seconds of that skunk's existence was trapped in time for all of us to see.

I can't help but think of my own mortality: the final moments leading up to death. My body, just like the remains of the ducks, jogger, rattlesnake and skunk, will be left to remind the world of my passing.

Time Had Stopped

I found myself laying in the sands of a shattered hour glass gazing up at the pink and yellow sky. The pastel clouds hovered still. I could not move. I did not want to move. Laying there I found peace that remained forever. I wondered if I was dead and I was not frightened. I was present.

I Have To

I guess that it just was not good enough... I guess not. I just wrote a touchy feelie blog that got wiped clean Kaboom style. I hate it when stuff like that happens... Don't you? I mean it is bad enough that my dream memory is sketchy today, but it is even worse that I know that my dreams really meant something because I didn't want to wake up this morning. I hit the Snooze button over and over again. The whole thing reminded me of some peoples' insistance that they found the meaning of life while dropping acid or taking shrooms or something like that. You know what I mean? Those ruminating questions were answered last night and then "Whammo!" I lost them.

I want to hold your hand world and take you to these depths of realization. It is like knowledege without words. It is like I finally found my way and then my legs stopped working, so here I am sitting here gazing at black and white. The remnants of what this all meant are laughing at me. What the hell! I'll laugh, too. I have to. I have to.

Back On Track

First Dream

I dreamt about visiting my sister, brother-in-law, niece and nephew in Portland. They lived in a beautiful home that held the chill of winter through every season. I held my limbs close to my chest and rocked back and forth on their couch as they played video games on a giant flat-screen TV. Stella (my niece) pranced about like a temperamental teenager even though she is a toddler and argued the trials and tribulations of a life as a single-child gone big sister. A mixture of power and disappointment played crossed her eyes like a video game.

My sister languished on the couch next to me deflated with exhaustion and my brother-in-law perspired over his game like he was giving birth. My nephew slept soundly in his crib.

Thoughts of what having your own family means roamed through my head herding me into corners of loneliness. I could not stop contemplating the fact that I have floated so far away from this dream of mine that I can't even see it anymore. It has become a dot in the distance on my plane of life.


Second Dream

Anthony and I parked in front of the Woodland Hills 7-11 I used to ride my mountain bike to with my best friend when I was a preteen. She and I had held the place in high regard as it facilitated our need for Slurpees, candy and boy-sitings. Those were the days when summer equalled vacation and transportation required zero fuel. We rode on personal stamina.

We left my dirty white Honda Civic in front of the store and crossed the street to the bank. When we returned my car was gone. My heart pounded out explanations of theft or towing. We had only been delinquent for a couple minutes or so.

The 7-11 had changed since my childhood. Steps led up to a new entrance laid with red carpeting. The place smelled like smoke and popcorn. Foreign tongues licked the air and my stomach tightened. I searched for the manager.

When I found him, I spat my frustrations at him. He smirked behind his slicked black hair and Armani suit and explained that my car was towed. My face boiled red with rage as he slowly wrote down the location my property was taken to. As I took the document from his hand he reached his other hand over to my behind and winked. I screamed at him and ran out the door.

Anthony sat huddled under blankets out in the cold. He looked at me with concern and surprise. I grumbled about our dilemma and rushed him away from the parking lot. His slower pace angered me. I felt like I was running from a rape scene and no one believed me.

He asked me where we were going. I looked down at the wrinkled paper commenting that the manager probably had terrible penmanship when to my surprise it was meticulous. His name stood out crisp in lead, "Steven Badabas".