Sleepies, the Place In Between

Saturday—Heart has been heavy for a few days. Haven’t wanted to write. It’s just that the weight has been bringing me down. Depths that I rather not be. Feeling disconnected in many ways. I know the source for this emptiness, but am a bit helpless. It’s in another’s hands. Tried this and that, but alas rien. 

Don’t like to be in this place. But I have Hope. I have Faith things will turn around. Only can Pray and let another guide me where I need to be. Brother and his family left for the Magical Kingdom for the weekend. It’s niece Lynn’s Birthday. She’s ten. Couldn’t tell you how much I needed to be where family was last night. Practically ran out the door from Reiki class.

Trying to live more present. Trying to enjoy where I am. Yet, can’t help from being there and apart at the same time. In Vein of Gold meeting, felt disconnected there, too. Perhaps, it was because I missed the week prior. Perhaps, its because I don’t share much commonality with the matriarchs. Perhaps, it was the spread of the morose from the previous “Soul Loss.”

Read that Soul Loss in shaman-speak is an illness of dire order. Yeah, I feel an emptiness. Yeah, I feel less than. Yeah, I lack some feel in my feel. At times, it fills when I go to St. Mary’s. Yeah, it fills when I’m present in wherever I am. Yet, I felt like Luke in Dagobah planet with Master Yoda (Sorry, my nephew has gotten me the Spielberg Mode). It feels there is an anger and cloudiness, a morose. It is during Luke’s Jedi training, he get frustrated and distraught being it of the Force. When its Flows, it flows. Yet, after coming from a high, there is a bit of crashing. Not a welcome grounding, like when a cesna comes down from getting beat up by the high, high winds. It is more a thunderous thud.

Sitting here in Vista Point. I watch the sunrise. Overlooking Lake Palmdale, the cars behind me speed by. A White Dodge Caravan is parked next. The driver is bundled up in a nice, warm fuzzy blanket catching some ZZZZZ’s. It reminds me of Master Yoda sitting in his car seat. Partly awake, partly asleep. Being transported from the warm comfortable crib to be awaken in the early, early morning to the car seat to Ford Tundra.

Everyone is awake in the early morning darkness. Things are a buzz as the rest readies themselves for the journey ahead to meet Donald and Minnie. Going to California adventure. Master Yoda is still not awake due to late night of jumping on pillow bridges, escaping the dangers of toy monsters at his feet. The Dodge Caravan guy next has himself wrapped up warming up and waking up to new day to come. Not quite ready for the beautiful day to come. He’s has his head covered to the morning sun. I know this place. I like this place. This place enjoys of the heat circulating warmth under the blanket that is getting heated by the showering sun.

I know my emptiness, its all around. My heavy heart beats my weighted blood which circulates my morose. True, I understand this will not last. There is a brighter day to come. I can see it now. Yet, not quite ready to take on the day, this is morose and angst is just a lesson. It is the sleepies crusting my eyes closed. It’s the before I wake up from the warm wrapped blanket. The cars behind me speeding my telling me we are here. I feel the warmth of the morning sun underneath the oh-so cozy blanket telling me it’s time to wake up.

I know this moment before I wake up and get up and go. This is when I can still enjoy my sleep under the so warm blanket and wake up before the beauty of the day.  It’s the place before happy REM departs and the morning day begins. I am not fond of this in-between. Leaving a happy dream and waking up to a beautiful day. This is where my morose lives. This where the emptiness sucks. This is the time being nudged awake from good evening dream.

My eyes will open. I will say goodbye to my beautiful dream to meet the wonderful new day. I will wipe the morning crusties—my morning sleepies—from my eyes. I just not enjoy the moments that in the between. Ah, time to open my eye. Just let me finish my dream. I want to see how it ends.

Searching for my Llano. . .

There's a somebody I'm longing to see, I hope that she turns out to be. . .

Saturday—it’s a beautiful outside. Sun shining ever so right. Wind is blowing in an early spring. And I think of her. One said that she looks like me. Oh, how I wanted to ask so much more. Alas, I didn’t. Her troubles were pressing. I felt her pain. The redness in her eyes. The front of strength was waning. Her facade transparent. Her aura beamed pain.

Sitting here now 16 years, I wondered if I beamed that same pain. It was all self-inflicted. Went through Denial. Went through Anger. Went Bargaining. Went through Depression. Now, I am Acceptance. Worse for wear I be. All the signs of loss. One friend Raman said, “I was dead inside.” I realize now why.

I'm a little lamb who's lost in a wood, I know I could always be good. . .

Got shepherded and was shown the light. A flash of clarity hit. So obvious, yet I was so blind. Haven’t heard from . . .in a while. I hope that it’s not too long before we meet. Downloaded a few pics from a camera that’s not mine. Pictures of a life long missed.  Pictures of Niagara Falls. Pictures of Legoland. Pictures of Alaskan cruises. None were mine.

Started putting M's pictures in a frame. Pictures were not mine, either. She’s playing softball in one. She’s on stage dancing for another. However, the picture I love the most is . . .no, I am going to keep that one for myself. Got to keep that one private for just her and me.

Notice that I have been getting emotional a lot lately. My eyes would water for the strangest reason. Sometimes it’s a song. Sometimes its picture.  It would just hit. Movies that I’ve seen before and nothing. I knew I liked the movie, but everything is moving me.

Mr. Holland’s Opus—it was today. My eyes glistened. Scene was Holland Opus (Richard Dreyfuss) and high school student (Jean Louisa Kelly). Last performance for Jean Louisa of her high school musical. It’s the performance she secretly leaves school to chase her dream of Broadway. The song she sings Gershwin “Somebody To Watch Over Me” Whew. It just got me.

Although I may not be the man, Some girls think of as handsome. . .

First time rendition I remember of this song was by Sting (My favorite crooner) Must have played this song twenty time straight before I took it off replay. Could not get enough. Had to listen to every word, hear every inflection, I just had to. It spoke to me. And I was listening.

It was when I first moved to Boston for college. Just had my heart broken and this song spoke to me. It brought me back to sanity. Funny, nights I would be listening to some Lords of Acid and then head out to Narcissus and go clubbing at the Back Bay. After a drunken stupor and late night Fenway Pizza, I would go my dorm suite and I power down with Sting’s version.

Won't you tell her please to put on some speed, Follow my lead, oh how I need. . .

Song has new meaning for me. Part of the lyrics stirs a different part of me. Guess this is why these songs are classics. Their stories seem to span time. Muse did a rendition of another song I just can’t get enough. George Michael was my first.Then Nina Simone. Then Muse. Love them all. I was sitting here on Friday night at it’s a Grind and the aspiring musician chose to sing “It’s a New Dawn” I had to stop and listen.

I know I could always be good. . .But to her heart, I carry the key

Confused me at first why these next generationers are playing my song. . .my song. My Song. No hate in my heart, but not the greatest crooners, but I commend for their song choice. So confused, I had to Google the song and find out why? Discovered, it was the Muse. Now, I am a big fan.

And this world would be like heaven, if she'd ,Follow my lead, oh how I need. . .

Don’t know where it comes from, but I suspect. . .I do. Another blog post, where music comes from. For such a long time, I stopped listening to music. It brought me joy and I wanted none of it. Felt I didn’t deserve it. Listened to talking heads on Sports radio and KFI. Listened and read books to get ahead. My Wasted Years I call them now. Don’t read management books any more. All these how to books to get ahead in your organization and how to get the organization ahead. It was nice for the time, but such. . .noise. Peter Drucker and 13 Fatal Errors of Management, thank you. It’s time for you to leave now.

I listen to more music now. Guess, I am searching for part of my Llano. Looked it up, “Llano” but it did not match the definition I had in my head. You will have to read Piers Anthony to understand. M is part of my Llano. Piers wrote a series of books called the Incarnation of Immortality. One is called Being a Green Mother. It’s about a gifted singer who searches for a song so beautiful and powerful, that parts of the songs have reported to create miracles. Being a Green Mother

In my Wasted Years, I did know I was so lost chasing. . . nothing. Well, I know now the song I search for is and I accepted. I’ve adopted W.E.B. Dubois saying in my core, “To be ready at any moment to give up what you are for what you might become." Like Natasha I will sing my own Amazing Grace. I will be Seth from City of Angels. Guess I will give up Heaven to be with an Angel.

Guess, you have to read the books or watch the movies to understand. Here is where I will leave for you to just that. Sting Version

I Can't Do This, Sam--Frodo

Plans Change

Sitting in Customer Lounge at Robertson this morning. Needed to have Civic checked again. It was the second time in 2 days that I needed to get a jump. Five times I had to get a jump start since I brought it here three weeks back to get my battery checked. They said it was good. My car thinks otherwise. Lucky for me, I have in my flash drive a few flics: Ninja Assassin, Up In the Air, and To Paris With Love. Relatively, new movies. Took my meds with no food and I’m feeling it now. Had different things planned for today: haircut, hospital, Morning Mass, working out, and bill-paying. Not something extremely difficult, but necessary.

Star-Gazing At the Kodak

Had different plans for the night before and it didn’t pan out as I would like. Hoping to see the Oscars, no, I mean experience the Academy Awards. Planned on going to the Kodak Center on Highland and something and be one of the wanna-be paparazzi and take some photos. Never did it before, but thought it would be cool to do. Only thing close to ceremony with luminaries was my time with Shelly when we went to the Vegas Star Trek Hilton opening. Caught some pics with Jerry Ryan, Levar Burton, Jonathon Frakes, and few other actors in the various series.

It’s funny how we go star-gazing. These people who are like you and me, we just gawk with adoration. Their skills--their talents--is to mask and pretend. Their gift is to be characters in a story. Sure, this is make-believe, but stories are important. We like hero archetypes. We like to root against villains. The story is game of the struggle. The stories are of tragedy, loss, comedy, and love. The quest of the hero is to battle. To win to lose. To be reborn and be made better. To be something more. What I find is that people, like me, need to be inspired by these heroes, real and imagined.

Story of My Life

More and more, I am finding that we have this in all of us. We can be the hero to our own story. We need to be the hero in our story.

If you were watching a movie of your life, would it be an interesting story? Would you change the channel of your own life? Would it be a struggle? Would it be a tragedy? A comedy? Who would be your love interest? Who would be the primary characters in the movie that is you? Really, you are the producer of your own movie, your own film. You edit the story of your life.You decide what memories to keep and what to leave on the cutting floor.

And the Winner Is. . .

Working out last night watching part of the Oscars, I saw the parts of the awarding of the male lead presentation. Jeff Bridges, Morgan Freeman, George Clooney, Jeremy Renner (Hurt Locker) were the nominees. It was a nice presentation. Couldn’t hear the words being said (No radio on Ipod). However, I could see the faces and pictures of the nominees. It was nice collage of the body of works of these performers. Susan Sarandon’s other, Tim Robbins spoke in behalf of Morgan Freeman. In the background was Shawshank Redemption. George Clooney had Vera Farmiga. Jeremy Renner had Collin Ferrel. Michelle Pfieffer spoke of Jeff Bridges (They worked on the Fabulous Baker Boys) I liked how these people spoke in behalf of the Oscar nominees. It reminded me of a lawyer's summation of a good trial movie.

Defend Your Life

Not in a negative way, it reminded me of eulogy. People that worked with these great actors spoke in their behalf. Much like the telling heartfelt stories of the life occasions shared at a funeral. A lady I know said she liked the idea of angels advocating your life. Before going to next level, if you believe in Heaven, one would have to defend one’s life. A movie would show snippets of one’s life advocating moving up or re-doing life. All the good. All the Bad. Everything’s everything and its effect. One would be held accountable for the actions and events that would be your life. 

Imagine your life, if it ended today and you had to be judged, how would it turn out? Would you be proud of the life you have lived? Would you proud what you produced? Are you proud of everything you have done?

I’ve had good moments. I’ve had bad. Overall, I'm not happy with everything. Not so far. I have events in my life that I would like to re-do. I can’t do that though. Can only admit mistakes, move on, and do better next time. One of my favorite quotes comes from author, martial artist, and Icon. Mistakes are always forgivable, if one has the courage to admit them.--Bruce Lee I am working on the admitting part. Courage: its growing.

In the story that is your life, what are you producing? What are you holding on to? What are you fighting for? Are you worth watching?

I think, Yes.

Best Producer Award Goes To. . .

Remember, in the movie of your life, danger and despair are part of a good story, a good story that matters. You may try to re-shoot parts, but the other actors may not be there to re-shoot. As producer in the editing room of your mind, you can cut out things not worth keeping. In the end, you make your own story. During the acceptance speech, its customary to give thanks. In the end, you need to give credit to actors and actress. You need to give credit to the costume producers, the set producers, the prop specialists, the lighting, the gaffers, the assistants, the assistant’s assistants, the everything. Not all are major characters, but their presence had an impact in your movie. Well, enough with that.

Dark times passes. Courage takes note the many chances of turning back, but it keeps on.

The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers (2002)

Frodo: I can't do this, Sam.

Sam: I know. It's all wrong. By rights we shouldn't even be here. But we are. It's like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger, they were. And sometimes you didn't want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it's only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn't. They kept going. Because they were holding on to something.

Frodo: What are we holding onto, Sam?

Sam: That there's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo... and it's worth fighting for.

MONA-- **kicking the laundry monster**......AND STAY DOWN BITCH!!!

(Excerpts from Facebook exchange)
Mona (not her real name)--i think my children are allergic to washing a load of towels.

Awareness Is The First Step
JN--Its a problem. Not everyone understands nor do they respect this disease. . .I, mean CONDITION. The first step is awareness. Once people know that 97 percent of people are inflicted with this condition, then we can take strides. We are considering a help line and future fundraisers for allergies against cleaning in general. It's an epidemic. The government is keeping under wraps to avoid widespread panic. The billboard campaign will come out in March of 2010. Please understand. You, too, can be infected. Wear masks. Wash your hand to avoid possible contamination.

Mona--So Jeff.....what is the cure for said condition??

JN--(Glad you asked. . .) Its call overloading. You give the children the wonderful task of washing clothes until they become numb. Keep bombarding with loads and loads and loads of laundry. Dirty, clean, never-worn clothes-just give it to them to wash. Got to build the antigens for washing towels. They will build a tolerance. Active immunity at its best. Build the antigen for washing. Before too long they will just wash, with no lip too. Who knew? Torture works (No, I do not subscribe such practice. It's a joke. . .okay, I do. Anyways)

JN--You can try the booster shot method. Give them small loads and ease into their lifestyle, but this is not as entertaining (as the aforementioned)

JN--Yet, still one more method. Not as long lasting, purely short-term. Bring them to a cleaner and have them launder the clothes. If they are of driving age (and even if they are not. Just as long as the feet touch the pedals) give them cash and car keys and tell them to get it done. If they learned anything, then you come home with nicely pressed towels. Starch is good word for you to teach. Remember learn them good.

JN--If its a severe case, tell them to go buy new towels. This is an extreme measure and you have to be on a donor allergy-washing-loads-of-towel list. No an easy list to get on. May need government assistance. I am sure there is a university working on this condition as we speak. You got to do what you got to do.


Laundry Polio Shot?
All joking aside. There is something about washing clothes. I really hated it. There was time where I just dropped off my laundry in plastic trash bags at the cleaners. Now, I do my own. All of last year in my journal, at least half of my "to-do" list was washing of some sort. Wash clothes. Wash cars, Wash jacket. Wash blanket. Wash cars again. wash clothes again. It never stopped. For awhile, I realized that will never stop. As my my childhood friend Mona put it, "**kicking the laundry monster**......AND STAY DOWN BITCH!!!" Maybe there will be a shot, like polio, which will eradicate the laundry monster, I don't know. My closet is still overflowing with clothes.

Folding Towels Brings Nirvana, Carpe "F*#k-ing Diem.
What I did find as I folded towels today, I felt peace. There was a sense of renewal. I mean my socks and pants had sand in them. It reminded me of the beach in San Diego. I think of the seagulls and pelicans. I remember the surfer and that photos of the ride ready to come. A time ago, I would have been upset about getting dirt on me. Now, it lets me know that I used the day.

At my family friend's wedding, my Aunt Tally had vomit on her blouse. Honestly, I smiled. Just thought how funny seeing her drooped over in a drunk stupor as Jason held her up while the valet got our car. I can still see the vomit on the sidewalk next to the valet key booth. The look at his face when he stepped on the puke--Priceless. I recall the bartender cutting her off. Memories of a blouse with vomit

I think of the blood on my sock, "Hey, I got Diabetes. Do my foot exam or I won't worry about shoes at all." Dirty clothes say we enjoyed the day. Carpe "F*$#k-ing Diem.

Washing is just daily challenge. . .daily activity saying we lived life. It says we have a life still yet to live. This is why we do it. A metaphorical rebirth. A chance to start anew. We can wash away the sins of the past and put a new you on display. We are like the Egyptians washing cloths on the rocks by the Nile River. Only there is no human sacrifices and we have washing machines and dryers.

Washing clothes is a connection to the past. And unless, we all decide to go Adam and Eve, a la commando, we will always have laundry to finish. Let me a borrow a line from the musical genius--my favorite singer and I know yours-- Vanilla Ice "Will it ever stop? Yo! I don't know" Will it ever stop . . .Yo! I hope not. Not washing would mean not living. Everyone has a dragon to slay. With orange Tide bottle in my right hand and Downy in the other, I am ready to battle this laundry monster.

Side Note: For future references, No, I will find my own personal Zen. Don't ask. Don't offer. Do your own laundry? If you have kids, take above steps to deal with this CONDITION. Any suggestions are always welcome?