Foul Mood

So I'm in a foul mood and I can't snap out of it. I figure I should purge it. I tried this earlier in my perferred medium- out loud. And I shan't say more, but it didn't go well. It's not that I woke up foul, although I may have... It was more in the realm of getting started off into the day on the wrong foot with someone else and then just that general feeling of annoyance and irritation just overwhelms you and you can't let go of it.

Maybe it's just me, but there are days when literally ANYTHING and EVERYTHING a person does annoys me to the point where I literally cannot make eye contact with them- I'm just repelling agains every interaction. And once it starts building up, it's like a locomotive and I can't get off of being annoyed. I'm not saying violent or mean- I just mean annoyed. Like this person becomes the embodiment of everything that irritates me in the world and everything they say I want to argue with. And you've met me, you know I love nothing more than a good argument. It's like raw turn on of emotion and I dig it. But when I'm in the annoyance mode, there is nothing raw but my level of annoydom.

So today was not an exquisite day. It was a good day, but I was irked like I slept on my neck wrong and my back hurt all day. I just couldn't put the annoyance down. Like it was my heroin today. In turn, every interaction I had with everyone else was in bad company. Poor other moments, they had no idea it was coming and then- BAM! Hilary's Annoyance Energy just comes busting in and it feels like they're in a hold-up. The moment is just standing there as if it were slapped in the face by a stranger- thinking, "wtf just happened...?"






I've been avoiding writing for awhile. For a long while. For a longer while than I am willing to admit. To the point where I am embarrassed when people that know me ask about my writing because they know how important it's been to me in the past. And I'm getting fat and it's all connected in my mind. The last year was so bold and like a little metamorphisis and I haven't put almost any of it down on paper. I've just been digesting and I fear it has made my mind and gut bloated with realization- both sitting in a meadow peacefully-kind, and slap you in the face bitch style-kind. Realization nonetheless.

I feel balanced and yet displaced. It's an odd combination but I have somehow settled into it.

Dancing & Sex

My favorites are those moments when it's just movement and breathing.

movement & breathing

And you can't see anything other than the way you move together.

To my oldest friend.

Hello old friend,

It's been so long since we've spoken, and while that is for the best I often wonder what you'd think of what's going on. How tickled you would be at the events of my life. You would laugh and we would joke and it would be like the big mental hug that friends who have known each other over 20 years can share.

I do miss you, but our friendship was at heartbreaking as it was happy. I wish that mental illness didn't hurt the people who love those who struggle with it so much. I see you fading in and out of your old self and watch defeneslessly as you, without control, forget and then catch glimpses of who you are. It's the most heart wrenching dance. You're the one of those stars that burns too brightly, as they say, and I'm like a moth; always having been fascinated with your humor and your intellect that ebb and flow from you now like displeased ocean.

I hope there is someplace safe inside yourself you can still go and not feel as scared as I know you are.
I will always miss you.

Suzan Tamim

So if you have not followed, there is a story in the news currently regarding the murder of a Middle Eastern singer and idol, of Lebanese decent by the name of Suzan Tamim.
The following link outlines her story: http://abcnews.go.com/International/story?id=6040557&page=1

I struggle with the argument that Tamim was, "...a woman who friends say never had control of her own life, because she never freed herself from the men who controlled her." Is this supposed to be a joke? The Middle East prides itself on the fact it teaches, prescribes, and ENFORCES the idea that women cannot be independent from the men in their life. The argument she could not free herself is ludacrius! Of COURSE she couldn't free herself, she wasn't even taught to believe in that type of vocabularly, let alone allow herself to think in those terms. At what point did her "overbearing" father sit her down and outline that she would need to take charge of her own career and reach out of the societal constrains and align herself with management or a support system that did not consist ENTIRELY of men?! The premise of so much of the social and cultural guidelines of the Middle East are that women NEED to depend on men and cannot make decisions let alone, life altering changes, to their life.

I can't blame her for aligning herself with the man who ended up ordering her beheading. She saw him as a way out of the last guy, just like she did with the guy before that.

The Middle East needs to step up to the plate- their society killed this woman, not just one rich guy.

character

Maybe her problem is that she knew she'd always make a better mistress than she would a wife.

And maybe the very idea of it all just made her turn away and walk. And walk and walk and never want to turn back toward it all again. Or maybe it's just fear. Either way, it changed her mind.

Controversial

I've started to play with the idea that health problems come from secrets.

A blessing I wrote for Easter 2006 that I never said at the table.

I'd like to give blessing; not just to this food and this day, but to each of the people in this room. It's been a rough few months. We've struggle collectively and individually, but we sit together today and are humbled by the opportunity to do so.

We've celebrated promotions, graduations. We've shared disappoints and lost jobs, moreover; we've lost parents, grandparents, godparents, and friends. Meaningful souls-- some of them brought us into creation, all of whom brought us into being. People who taught us love, showed us how to care enough to fight, and to gracefully pass through the veil. We've been torn and heart broken, and yet we have come together today in thanks.

When we're looking back years from now, the highlights will be our focus. However, true growth, true personal evolution never comes without remarkable and at times sometimes seemingly unmitigating pain. As Ann Lamott points out, "This is life's nature; that lives and hearts get broken." But today we follow something brighter than pain. Today, as we break bread- we lean back on one another and give thanks, that we've come so far-- and have the honor of wandering farther together.

Amen.

On your birthday...

My relationship with you is like watching someone walk away for a long time.

46664

Mandela told cheering fans: "Your voices carried across the water to inspire us in our prison cells far away. Tonight we can stand before you free."

Happy Birthday, to the most inspiring man to ever reach the ears of a girl from California.

You humble me, Mr. Mandela. Truly.

An Open Letter

I'm not entirely sure who this is for... I'm just mentally purging.

Enjoy.

Point #1
Don't enterain drama. Refuse to participate. Now it's taken me quite a few years to come to this realization and even longer to put it into practice. Don't get me wrong, I love a strong and "spirited" conversation and I get off on opposition, but when it comes to bringing unnecessary "drama" into my life, you see that is just not going to happen. I simply refuse to open the gates. These gates are well worn by the events of a 27 year life. They don't house anything that is probably of much importance to you, they look like everyone else's gates, but they are special to me. Because metaphorically, I'm inside the gates. And what you are so generously bringing to my gates is like a pile of cat turds after the cat has eaten canned tuna, and if you have a cat- you feel me on this.... and we have no need for additional cat turds here. We're good. Move along. Stop making everything about what you need. You sound like a 12-stepper who's making amends. You know what the problem with making amends with people whom you have harmed like 5-10 years in the past? See, most of these people are over you and your bullshit. They've moved on and weened themselves off your crack and now that you're back- you're Joseph or Mary and there is no room at the inn. It's not that we don't like you... ok, that's sort of part of it; it's that you just don't deserve that kind of effort and life just isn't that boring. I don't need negative interaction, I work in finance, people. I get PLENTY of negative interaction already.

Point #2 (Hah, Hah. I said "number two.")
Insecurity is the cancer of life. It will ruin you, your life and everything you touch will turn to shit if you're insecure. So get therapy or religion, or get a solid hobby, even a drug habit-- honestly I don't even care, but lose the insecurity. Furthermore it's terribly unattractive.

Point #3
Stop trying so hard. Nobody likes a kiss-ass.

Point #4
If you don't believe in God, you don't deserve to have one.

Here is what I think:

-Hillary Clinton needs to drop out of the race.

-Star Jones should have her vocal cords removed.

-I should exercise. Like even once a year because seriously, that would increase my current exercise yield by like 100%.

-People in cults should just be sterilized.

-People who lock their kids in secret basements should be shot on sight, no questions asked.

-"The View" should be taken off the air.

-If you cannot pay a mortgage, you should not be allowed to buy a house. Period.

-Polenta should be offered at basically every restaurant. Because it's awesome.

-We should all be tan from birth until death.

-The people who get excited to see you, are the only people you should ever spend time with.

-As a nation, we should apologize to our military service personnel for what we've done to them.

-People should respect the Volvo.

Recovery. Exactly.

"... the sense I am walking toward a place that I want to go. "

Tuesdays and other days

I never would have believed it 10 years ago—the way I love things has changed, what I love has changed so drastically and with no action of my own—life just grew and I grew and not in the ways I was necessarily hoping to, but in ways that were obviously necessary for my own survival.
I appreciate the quiet now; the stillness of the moment and of being in it. For so long my main focus was taking myself out of the moment. Being left alone with my thoughts and in turn, feelings, had become more than I could bear, or maybe, more accurately- more than I wanted to bear. So I worked, with great effort, to remove myself for the moment- to medicate myself out of the heartbreak of my disappointment and lost myself in the gray—in the static. I can sit still now. I don’t need the distraction of evening plans or the hustle and bustle of constant activity. I can sit and I can just be and I’m learning to value what happens and what doesn’t happen in those moments.
I have become conscience of my place on the map. I have resigned myself to the fact that I am an adult and that I really do want to be treated like one and that it is an earned privilege and not a God given right. Years do not amount to respect, but action certainly does. I own a home, and pets, I have a family who looks forward to my activity in their lives and with the people they love. I have friends who depend on me, who I depend on and who deserve my full attention in the moments we share.
See I’m learning that part of growing up is caring more. I use to “not give a fuck” about a lot. The impression I give most people still doesn’t mean absolutely anything to me, but the impression I give the people who matter to me means everything. Growing up means showing up for you, the way you keep showing up for me.
All the things that hold me down now are also the things that hold me up. And that is humbling. I don’t deserve so much of this, but it keeps raining down and I keep smiling up and somehow I know we’re going to make it on this busted road together.

And I’m so glad you’re here.

Unlearning "might have been"

I'm unlearning the practice of "might have been." This is the age-old tradition of lamenting what might have been.

There is no might have been.

There is only what is.

There is no "if things had gone differently."
Things don't go differently. Things just go.

And life just moves on.

Profanity in the car.

I am trying to refrain from yelling profanity at people in the car. Instead I yell, "YOUR MOTHER DOESN'T LOVE YOU!" if they drive poorly, cut me off or serve up some general irritation my way. And I feel better and make myself laugh.

125 days.

Sober.

Forgiving Dr. Mengele

If you haven't seen this movie, you should. It's about a Holocaust survivor who was forcibly part of Dr. Mengele's twins study whilst she was imprisoned at Auschwitz. Captivating for many reasons, none of them more obvious than the general idea of forgiveness.

Are we capable of it?
Should we assume ourselves reliable enough to truly evolve through it?
And can we use it as a force in our lives?
Moreover, what is the actual purpose of forgiveness in our lives?

I think this argument will forever hinge on the premise of whether or not one carries faith. So often it is faith or spirituality that calls us to forgive and it is forgiveness that often the forgiver is using to further his or her spiritual/faith growth. I know it is certainly the latter for me, I have to put certain pains down- wrongs done to me years before, that while they may not be impacting my day to day life, they do in essence affect my happiness, as they drain energy that otherwise could have been used to expand it.

I certainly don't forgive to make the forgivees life easier, although I hope it does. I believe we are good at the core of our beings, so it is my fundamental belief that I must want, in my heart, good for all people, at all times, even through anger and fear. I digress... I forgive because it lightens my load. Because I want to let things go, I want to move on, I don't want to give my thoughts to things that aren't worth them.

I think people need love, especially when they don't deserve it. Sometimes forgiveness can act as an inadvertant vehicle for self healing and spiritual therapy. At some point individually we have to walk away from things mentally and physically.

But as the main character of the movie, Eva Mozes Kor, points out, forgiveness isn't about walking away from anything, it's about walking away from the pain that a certain situation/person/instance has brought or continues to bring to the victim. She outlines that forgiveness has to do with what we do with our lives following trama. Eva, in my humble opinion, courageously wages that pain does not invite us to grow, it begs that we remain in it for it's own glory.

I'm out of time... more to come. Lazy mind trying to keep up with streaming thoughts.
x

haiku

panorama breath

hill to town to sea in sight

I remember you

Happiness is.

K2's, Marker bindings, 6 ft of fresh snow, groomed runs, no lift lines, 2 of my favorite people together in Tahoe.

But more importantly...

My new niece Nora Jane Landini (1/30/2008)

11:34am. So far, good day.

No more ramblings or bitchings about people who work in parking garages or complaints that I don't feel well.
Today is starting out to be a good day, it's still early however, I'm keeping my hopes up it remains as such!

This one's for you, Lou.

I don't make a habit of calling people out directly on my blog. I'm not here to make people feel bad about themselves, generally no one needs help with that anyway, but today there blows the winds of change. Cause I'm feeling frisky, and Lou- you're the man who's wrinkled your fat ass under my skin. So this one's for you.

Now maybe it's because I walked through a gas leak on my way into the office, or maybe it's because I've been sick (see previous blog), or maybe it's that I'm just a few days shy of the 100 day mark so the universe is itching at me to just let this shit out. Either way, it's coming today and Lou, you are the victim... And I say that in the most passionate and unadulterated way.

I work for a fairly notable financial institution, which will forever remain nameless on this blog, whose office is located in a very busy section on my downtown area. I park in a city parking structure- they give me a little card that I begrudgingly swipe everyone morning. I plod along in my battered car down the rows to find a place, compact or otherwise to hide my car in until The Man let's me go home to rest just to get up and do it all over again. Here is my problem- the parking garage. This is not about parking etiquette or how people who drive Honda Minivans should not park in compact spots. I'm over that. Those people do not care about me or the fact they are fucking up my door or world order, for that matter. This is about human decency and each of us doing OUR BEST to make this world a little bit more goddamn livable. And Lou, you are fucking up the rotation, my friend.

Perhaps it's because, Lou, you're overweight and the mid-range belt you've decided to ever-so-sleekly slap on that barrel belly of yours, midway down (like we're even supposed to believe your waste would be) just isn't cutting it anymore. Perhap's you have additional health problems which has led to this unseemly weight of yours and all of this affects your brain in a way that means you cannot think or function like the rest of us- but LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHING- YOU HAVE CROSSED THE LINE, LOU. And I just can't sit another day and say nothing.

We have a what? 6 story parking garage? Or is it 7? It's just so hard to count. But you have managed to cover up all but one handicap parking place on the first floor. You have then gone and put MORE handicap places on all other floors. And why did you do this? So that YOU and your coworkers can park closer to the "security (my ass) office." You have taken every reasonable parking place, even remotely convenient for handicap and non-handicap people alike and you have painted over them with reserved signs so that your fat ass doesn't have to take the elevator, but the cancer striken 89 yr old, church going, wheel chair-bond, foster mother has to wheel herself an extra 3 floors. THANK YOU, LOU. You've made your case as to what is wrong with the world. You are lazy, you are self-centered, and you are a bastard.

Every, single job I have had in a retail/service setting, employees have ALWAYS had to park the FURTHEST away from the store/shop/whatever. If there are 4 floors of parking, we employees are going to 4. It's not that we "shouldn't" park on 1-3. It's that IT IS AGAINST THE RULES. And it's bad customer service, it's poor form, and it's blatantly stupid. But you take the cake, Lou. Perhaps nobody's taken the time to give you the reach around recently, I'm sorry about that- everyone deserves to get laid. That is, everyone but you now. Instead of abiding by this well known courteousy, you have gone the EXACT opposite to make the customer get out of YOUR WAY. Sure, you're only 5 yds away from an office you won't leave all day. Sure, your domain is a downtown parking structure, but that and a silver Celica aren't enough for you, are they? You need to fuck with handicap people and the rest of the PAYING CUSTOMERS. Listen, Lou, you don't pay to park there- YOU GET PAID to park there, so take your happy ass to the top floor, my friend- that's where it belongs.

Even before you replaced the handicap spots with your employee parking you were telling patrons, like yours truly, to move their car or be at risk of tow because those were "your spots." On a particular day when I parked in a space with no marking at all and had a SLING ON MY ARM you came all the way out of your office to lie to me about reserved parking. You then took a plaque for your neighborhood parking out of your car and claimed that if I didn't have one in the space the City would tow me. Well Lou, I called the city, you dumb fuck. Yeah, you heard me. Dude, my life is not the exciting- I HAVE THE TIME. And they told me what I already knew- you were "not being completely forthcoming with information." So, you lie to the injured, you inconvenience the disabled and all of it so you don't have to walk as far from your car, which might even make sense IF YOU DIDN'T WORK IN THE FUCKING GARAGE. Listen, Lou, NO PARKING SPACE in that entire fucking structure is far from your office, dipshit.

So today, I ask everyone, pray for Lou. He needs it. He really does. Lou maybe needs to get in touch with the Lord, or needs to get in touch with another man... whatever. I'm not here to judge. But Lou, we gotta do something about this- I can't even think of the possiblities if we don't. Now most people don't know that's your name. You're the manager of the San Pedro parking garage, but today, Lou- TODAY YOUR NAME WILL LIVE IN INFAMY. And I can only say, I'm so glad I could help you live your dream. I really am. Cheers to you, buddy.

Bad Mood Blogging.

So I'm in a fairly poor mood today. No surprise on that account, however, as I was a dragon of vomit and illness for the last couple of days. Went to the world's most awkward going away party for a friend, and from the 15 people who were there, at least 11 of us got sick. Awesomeness...? Not so much.

But I am not bitter, noooooooooooo, that would be out of line. I am, however, in a foul mood. Not the kind of mood that makes me want to hit children, but the kind of mood that should tell other people to keep a safe 15' radius of clear space around me, should I choose to say something- which would no doubt be negative, cynical, and unnecessarily callus. Did I spell callus right? Do I care. Can I get a hell no? Thank you.

So a dear friend, one of true partners in crime, suggested I blog. So basically you can blame her for me perpetrating my nasty voice of recovering illness to like all 3 of you who read this.
Maybe I'll do a little shout out to the people who read this...

There's the person who read this to try to garner personal information about me because they are probably the nosiest human I have ever come across with an extreme case of poor self-esteem, one which the world may never know again. This person needs to get a life, but if they want to read what I write, hey- knock yourself out. Maybe you can make up a tidbit about my futile state which you can tell to like your one friend.
Then there are my best friends- I love you two. You read this because you feel compelled, either way- I love it.
There are the people who live far away and want to "keep up" with me- but really they just read this to get a slice of sarcasm to their daily dish and remind themselves that where it's at is here, is this fair dome of mine.
There are also the people from facebook who probably think they are slyly stalking me who check out the blog, hello folks whom I rarely talk to- hopefully my nasty note of "I'm not happy today" will make you feel more connected to me, like we just went out and had dinner- minus the food and conversation. By the way, you paid, so thanks.

But seriously, what is the point of this blog? To waste a little time at work? Perhaps. To vent of the illness that nearly brought down yours truly? A little. Or maybe this is just an avenue I cannot live without in some, fucked up little way. It's probably the latter. I read a quote recently, which I am paraphrasing, "a writer is a person for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people." -Thomas Mann. He's right. It's excruiating. In the best kind of way.

Perhaps instead of "The Word of Hil" I should call it "Daily Purge" but fuck it, we've come this far, all 21 postings and I, so we might as well hang onto our catchy little title. Someday you may look back and say, you know what, I'm the nosey bitch reading your blog- and damnit, I knew her when she was just sick and pissed about it.

Give yourself a little pat on the back for that, hot shot. You really made your own day.

Mustache

Hilary with mustache. 2007

Just for those of you who just needed the visual...