The Word of Hil

An unusually warm winter.

2012-02-12T19:47:00.000-08:00

Vee and I pulled weeds this afternoon and cleansed the yard of negative energy.

She said it felt good to be outside.

I tried to be strong but I cried.

And then I pulled every god damn weed in that garden.

Vee

2012-02-01T21:14:00.001-08:00

I looked at her and said, "we're some shit, ya know?" And she pulled her arms up behind her head like she was lying on a lounge chair and we were in Hawaii and she said, "yeah, I know."

And we were.

Facing Future

2012-02-01T20:56:00.000-08:00

I'm totally trusting this is all going to make more sense when we look back on my life; you know- with rose and creamy cheeses.

Except I've been loved.

Veee

2012-02-01T20:54:00.000-08:00

It's cancer and there is no fear.

I envy and yet pity the thought of such denial

Cause that means we're scared alone.

Like a big waste of time.

And it's not

everyone knows it's not.

sigh.

2011-11-02T19:50:00.000-07:00

The silence is a lie.

Meh.

2011-10-03T11:07:00.000-07:00

I've been feeling overlooked recently, by family, by my friends. Lots of changes but everything feels stagnant for me and does not feel fulfilling. SO, as I stated in my past post, it's time for some changes. Time to step out of the box that is my comfort zone.

There are several things on the agenda. Details to come.

As for this Monday, REALLY happy to be home for a spell before embarking on a two week work trip.

Ok, Great Spirit, I need you. A lot.

Time Passing

2011-09-16T12:57:00.001-07:00

Needs to work on myself.

Messed up.

2011-09-15T15:43:00.000-07:00

I messed up good this time. Opened my mouth and shared secrets. Hurt a friend, but asking myself now, why would I have done that? Which can only mean I need to spend time reflecting on why I opened my big-ass mouth.

In any event, like most dumb moments, you have to accept it. Apologize and do better next time.

Here I go, giving you all I have to offer- a little bit of my truth

2011-09-12T19:59:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I think too much. (read: always.)

So I always find more to say. I'm sure that's true for everyone. Given a clear head, a week of good nights sleep's and my medication everyday, I'm an expert at what to say in every conversation. Stupid Hindsight being 20/20 and shit. HOW useless is that? Thank you for NOTHING, Hindsight. NOTHING.

Anyway, so there is always more to say. And yet I'm learning, maybe not. Maybe it's good some things stay hidden. I hate that being the case, but there are so many things I'm learning to accept that I hate that I might as well give this crappy reality a shot of existing.

I keep repeating to myself that, "the truth lives forever." Which I staunchly believe. You can tell people otherwise, you can convince yourself or anyone, but the truth stands there, staring at you. Existing beyond your control. You can pretend and ignore and shut it out, but the truth does not change. It might be the only things in the entire existence of a human that doesn't change. In the instant it exists, the truth is very clear, moment to moment and situation to situation.

So I lean back on that. I feel like I rest against it; the truth. I feel like it's the only thing I can depend on in a contrived world.

You don't love her. You love me. We both know it. And you're afraid.

And that's the truth today. It may not be forever, but it's staring at us both right now.

Topics

2011-08-21T14:00:00.000-07:00

As if I need a topic, I reason to purge the inside of my thoughts, which often, sound quite honest when I put them down for anyone to read. I don't need a topic. I need courage.

And I feel it coming up, from the depths of so much silence for far too long.

Something I know for sure

2011-08-21T13:59:00.001-07:00

Here's what I know. Whatever it is, whether you like it or not,
you get through it.

And when you don't, you're not through it.

Burn marks

2011-08-18T12:09:00.001-07:00

Every time your name pops up, it's like you've left me again
Standing here with this heart full of feelings and a dial tone

And I don't want to reach out and touch you
I'm still stinging from the last time

But every year at this time you find me
I'm a right back where I was

Standing here with my this heart full of feelings and a dial tone

And all I want is you

But I've learned to let go of things

So I put those feelings down everyday

forced and awkard

2011-08-14T18:47:00.000-07:00

I have nothing to blog about but I have to get back in the habit because apparently it's good for me. I hate feeling obligated to do anything; something I am working to overcome so let's call this little forced and awkward post "baby step #1."

I better feel better after this. :)

Fake it til you make it.

2011-02-25T18:31:00.000-08:00

The house plant, I am so proud to have nutured from a small babe to a beautiful, stretching goddess has fungus. I can tell; the dirt is weird and fuzzy. Of course I'm not touching it, I'm just saying. It's definitely fungus. And whether she knows it or not, it's not going away. I've got to get it treated because she is mine to care for.

So, as a SWF who is to care for me? I mean seriously, what am I? Some sort of 30 year old baby that should wear life alert connected to my parents house in case I've fallen and I can't get up? This is no one's fault, including my own. I am not after a definition of happiness, I'm just after happiness. Just letting it come... and I'm sure when I look back on these years of my life they will seem busy but while I'm living them, I certainly do not get that sense.

I think my own METAPHORICAL ONLY "fungus" is my energy. It's not negative, it's not anything. And so I've got the do-nothing fungus and you know what I say about bitching about stuff you aren't willing to change...?

Lock it up.

The following Monday

2011-02-21T22:00:00.000-08:00

My mom has asked me to open my heart, so I'm going to try.

Any given Monday.

2011-02-14T20:54:00.001-08:00

I still pray for the strength to get through the day without a crutch.
Every, single day.

And I don't blame anyone.
I'd rather not even look up.

but the test of any great relationship is perseverance.

So see you next Monday.

A new beginning.

2010-12-26T12:27:00.000-08:00

I'm blogging again. Sound the horns.

It has largely to do with a brand new computer that was gifted to me by my parents, and in particular my dad. Who later told me how he circumnavigated the bay to find a computer he felt was suitable, and have it for me, ready to go on Christmas morning. For the first time in my life, I was more surprised than I think I have ever been. I honestly did not see it coming and it was the most wonderful of surprises. But the story following sealed the deal on what it means to give and to have. And the meaning behind this is so much greater than myself and at 30, I am finally starting to understand that kind of love.

I have a very strong feeling that love with be a reoccuring theme in the coming days and months that I FORCE myself to blog. So here's hoping I stick to it.

LA

2009-07-27T22:15:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I miss the neurosis of LA. I miss the process through which I became myself that unfolded on its hollowed ground. The space and those streets; the noise of the world dripping down around me at every moment. The friction of every possible step. Somehow hating LA is why I felt that pulse.
Who I became there.

Summer War Year 3

2009-07-20T18:39:00.000-07:00

I am convinced that I am a warrior 3 months every year.
I think battling ants is mental test by God.

Life list.

2009-05-31T20:47:00.001-07:00

I was asked recently to take stock of my life. I've decided to compile THE LIST.
This is only the beginning...

My bucket list:
travel to the Middle East
pray at the Western Wall
adopt a child
give birth
eat at French Laundry
ride a camel in the desert
travel to Africa
volunteer in Appalachia
live in a foreign country for 1+ year
learn to make sushi
write a $10,000 check to charity
publish a book
own a dog
walk on the Great Wall
live in a city on a lake
heli-ski
stay in the presidential suite (of any 4 star hotel)
run with the bulls
take flying lessons
break 80 on the golf course

Admittal.

2009-05-27T20:23:00.000-07:00

I can feel when the end begins. We hold on more tightly. Going above and beyond, working harder for smaller moments spent together.

I had lunch with an old friend recently. I knew at the end of the few hours we spent together that we had come full circle and found the end of it. We had both moved on with our lives and it was the first time in my adult life that had happened. Closure and honesty and then silently walking away, with our backs turned, into the future and into our lives, which in no way involved one another.

Now I feel the end of something else. This time a working relationship. It has meant more to me than I have allowed myself to admit and the idea of being without it saddens me in a capacity, that up until now, I had never known.

The seasons are changing. I am holding my breath.

Never sun without rain.

2009-05-14T20:37:00.000-07:00

I'm having a hard time coming to terms with the simple (yeah, right) fact that life comes in seasons. There isn't a jumping off point into the abyss that I believed happiness occupied. No single moment where happiness began for me. Millions of those instead, little glimpses and instances of perfection. I pray now those instances happen closer and closer together.
That's foolish. I realize that.
There has to be rain.
And the milestones we set are not milestones at all when you arrive at them. Covered in the dirt of hard work and determination, I have always found myself at a precipice of ownership when I reach goals I, at one time, believed to be milestones. I didn't jump for joy like a child. I walked steady, like a woman who had earned her way into that promotion, that new car, that vacation, that home- that life.
I struggle that things are not all good or all bad. Most things are both. And you don't just get sunshine, you get that rain. That sometimes unseemingly stoppable rain.
When it's peaceful I miss the mind fuck.
And yet I wish for peace of mind on almost every shooting star.

Where I stood.

2009-01-20T18:41:00.000-08:00

I think I’ve found that polar opposite to codependence. I think I’ve been looking for it for 15 years or so and I’ve come to find it and we’re like old lovers lying in each other’s arms.

I can close my metaphoric eyes and find myself in that moment, where you step away from that relationship- that experience which so proudly moved you to change who you are- the way you look at a true partnership. That moment when he stood in front of the building sobbing and my empathy wanted me to stay so badly and cure his pain, while inversely increasing mine. But something greater inside me kicked in, some sixth sense about moving on with your life, with not having the same argument again. We’ve said it all. This is where we walk away and take our losses and eat the money and the humiliation and just let this beast die while we can both get out alive.
Some of you had the disgustingly unfair benefit of having one of those insanely perfect first loves, or first serious relationship, where you just found the right time to step away from each other and it made sense and it was pure, just like the way you fell in love. I’ve had that too. Just not before the shit relationship that dements you. And then forces you into remembering who you are- what you deserve. It gives you the tools to find your footing.

At this point in my young adult life I’m so glad to have already processed and worked through those painful missteps. I won’t do it when I’m 40. I’ve not just learned the lesson, I took it to heart. I walked through- slowly, painfully, sometimes excoriating, will-testing moments of doubt and loneliness and braved the open sky again. I’m not in a position to put children through that, or do it with the weight of 40 years, so for that- I’m grateful. It’s the little victories, no?

Now I find myself many years later, having never made the same mistake again.
Made mistakes.
Many.
Still doing well at that.
But not that mistake.
That’s the kind of shit you only have to do once to know better. I do. I know better. So much better, as a matter of fact, that I seek nothing outside myself, which is not as healthy as we hope self-sufficiency to be. The mistake or misstep is that it’s good to want and need others.
It’s the balance.
I haven’t struck it.
I feel myself still dancing, still dancing.
still.

Hemmingway Immitation circa 1995

2009-01-14T15:30:00.000-08:00

The waves crashing against the water were crisp and dark. On one side they lapped against the beach and the rocks and the blanket that was laid out in a clearing through the trees. Resting on the blanket was the bright glistening sun and a box, filled with old trinkets, sat in the center of the blanket, stabilizing it from the wind. The two boys lay out on the beach, away from the blanket. It was mildly warm and the Tahoe Queen would be passing by from Tahoe City shortly. It passed by West Shore daily and then continued on to Emerald Bay.
“Where should we go?” the younger boy asked. He had taken off his shoes and set his feet in the sand.
“It’s a nice day,” the other boy said.
“Lets go to Eagle Rock.”
“Eagle Rock.” the older boy said as he thought about it. “The mountain down the road?”
“Yes, the one down the road.”
The sun faded behind the clouds and the two boys noticed. It had gone away from their view which annoyed the two. The younger boy looked down toward the water. They were on a rocky beach and the waves were cool and crooked.
“They look like broken stars,” the younger boy said.
“I’ve never seen one,” the older boy stared at the sky.
“Yes, I know that.”
“How do you,” the older boy said. “Only because you think you know that doesn’t mean a thing.”
The young boy looked at a large rock next to him. “Someone wrote something on it,” he said. “What did they write?”
“‘Peter was here.’ It’s a joke.”
“Can we write something?”
The older boy pulled a marker from his pocket. It was old and dirty.
“Write whatever you want.”
“What should I write?”
“What do you want to write?”
“I don’t know,” the younger boy said. “Should I write the same thing?”
“If you want to,”
“I’m not good at spelling,” the younger boy said and set down the marker.
“Everybody’s like that.”
“I know,” said the younger boy. “Everybody is a bad speller. Especially the ones who haven’t been able to go to school.”
“Oh shut up!”
“No, you,” the younger boy said. “I was just teasing. I was only kidding.”
“Well, let’s try and be funny then.”
“Okay. I was trying. I mentioned that the waves look like broken stars. Wasn’t that catchy?”
“That was catchy.”
“I want to write something funny. That’s all we do, isn’t it- write down things and then go places?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
The younger boy looked out at the waves.
“They’re cool waves,” he said. “They don’t exactly look like broken stars. I was just talkin’ ‘bout they’re reflection off the sun.”
“Are you going to write something?”
“Yeah.”
The sun came through and behind the clouds again.
“The marker works good,” the older boy said.
“Yeah it does,” the younger one said.
“It really won’t be too hard to move again, Scott,” the older boy said. “It’s not really a move at all.”
The young boy looked down at the rocks his feet were on.
“I know you don’t care, Scott,” the older one said. “It’s just to get a fresh start.”
The younger brother did not answer.
“We’ll just get a fresh start and try again with a clean slate.”
“Then what will we do?”
“We’ll be fine. We get ourselves together like we always do.”
“How do you know for sure?”
“That’s the only hard part. It’s the only part that we don’t like. . . the beginning.”
The younger boy stretched his legs and dug his toes into the rocky beach.
“So you think after we go we’ll be better?”
“I’m sure of it. We won’t be sad anymore. Lots of people move.”
“I know that,” said the younger brother. “And after a little while they are happy.”
“Well,” the older brother said, “if you really want to stay we could. But I know it won’t be that hard.”
“Do you really want to go?”
“I see it as the only safe option. But I don’t want to leave if you’re really going to hate it.”
“And if I do it will make us happier and our lives will be better and you won’t hate me?”
“I don’t hate you.”
“I know,” said the younger brother. “But if I agree then it won’t be so sad again if I mention things are like broken stars, and you’ll understand?”
“I will understand. I understand now but I do not want to think of it.”
“If I agree you won’t get frustrated?”
“I won’t get frustrated because it will be good.”
“Then okay. Because I really don’t care.”
“What?”
“I don’t care.”
“Well I do.”
“Oh, yes. But I don’t. I’ll agree and then it will be over.”
“You shouldn’t agree like that.”
The young boy got up and ran to the pier. Down, at the opposite end, were the boats and buoys weighed down to the Tahoe lake bottom. Far off, past the lake, were the Rockies. The sun rose above the clouds and illuminated the east shore caves and he could see the pine trees scattered around.
“I guess we should go then,” the younger boy said. “If we are . . . then we should go. You know?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Well, I’ll get the box,” the older boy said. “We’ve got to have the box. It’s the one thing that is always constant.”

Foul Mood

2008-12-28T18:07:00.000-08:00

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

2008-12-14T16:28:00.001-08:00

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.

2008-11-06T13:19:00.000-08:00

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

2008-10-17T16:06:00.000-07:00

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

2008-08-23T17:26:00.000-07:00

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

2008-08-13T23:25:00.001-07:00

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.

2008-07-16T20:56:00.000-07:00

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...

2008-07-16T20:45:00.001-07:00

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

46664

2008-06-27T13:15:00.000-07:00

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

2008-06-25T22:26:00.001-07:00

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:

2008-05-08T22:22:00.001-07:00

-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.

2008-04-16T13:48:00.000-07:00

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

Tuesdays and other days

2008-04-15T15:39:00.001-07:00

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"

2008-03-19T23:59:00.000-07:00

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.

2008-03-11T15:42:00.000-07:00

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.

2008-02-22T10:37:00.001-08:00

Sober.

Forgiving Dr. Mengele

2008-02-21T16:37:00.001-08:00

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

2008-02-18T13:12:00.000-08:00

panorama breath

hill to town to sea in sight

I remember you

Happiness is.

2008-02-16T17:52:00.000-08:00

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.

2008-01-24T11:32:00.001-08:00

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.

2008-01-23T13:13:00.001-08:00

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.

2008-01-23T11:42:00.000-08:00

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

2008-01-08T23:38:00.001-08:00

Hilary with mustache. 2007

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

Near-end Review. December 2007

2007-12-28T13:59:00.000-08:00

So very few of you know what I've been going through for the last 40-something days. For those who do, you have brought me this far, I can't tell you how much that means. People I thought would be closer, could not be- people who I was unsure about embraced me in the most positive ways. It's been a very life changing metamorphasis and I'm really humbled by many of you. Macie, you're more than I have words for...

More I'm learning...

Every decision I make, no matter how small, must be made from the mindset that I'm looking for long-term happiness. I'm in this for the long haul, when I refuse or ignore working hard for the things that will enable my long-term happiness, I will have failed.

Character matters. No matter how much you can get away with.

The right decisions, when made, yield an unbelievable reality.

Say what you mean, stop wasting my motherfucking time.

This is not a popularity contest.

People who you have confided in, will betray you for the sake of gossip. People who honor you will not betray you for the sake of anything. The identity of these people will surprise you.

If I live my whole life and the greatest compliment I receive is "you're pretty" I will feel like a failure. Beauty is luck and money. Everything worth having is worked for.

Anthony De Mello

2007-12-26T09:34:00.001-08:00

Is a genius. Read him.

Impotent Cigarette

2007-12-20T15:57:00.000-08:00

For those of you unfamiliar, Macie and I have a fake band named Impotent Cigarette. I will be posting the names of our albums and songs on here shortly. Off the top of my head I can tell you our first album is entitled "Dude, I love your mom too but can we order the pizza now?" and our second album is entitled "Because your mom breast fed you."

One of my favorite fake songs on the second album is "I don't think they party in Cairo, I think it's more like running from the religious police."

Anyway, again- full fake band info will be posted shortly... our only review comes from ourselves which outlines our music as such: "it's not rap, it's more like rhymic speaking..."

Quote of the Day

2007-12-20T15:42:00.000-08:00

"we make the road by walking it." -Anonymous

Day 52

2007-12-11T10:48:00.000-08:00

Yep, it's day 52.

That's longer than that guy from the bible.

Dear best friend,

2007-12-05T20:36:00.001-08:00

I feel that you and I are kindred in so many ways. Often I muse that it is most probable that we were never meant to roam the earth without one another.

Today has been a hard day. It's been a good day, but it's been a hard day.

You haven't ask, and it really makes no difference, but here is what I wish for you:

Presence. Kindness. Thoughtfulness. Patience. Humor. Memory. Sensativity. Passion. Focus. Appreciation. Loyalty. Humanity. Generosity. Vision. Humility. Someone who is dynamic. A place that feels safe. The feeling of falling in step with someone and trusting it's taking you the right direction. Perseverence. Commitment. Good sense.

Hear my prayer.

Beauty; it's birth.

2007-12-02T23:42:00.000-08:00

We walked for what seemed like forty-five minutes. At four o’clock the sun was beginning to fade behind the dramatic green hills that rolled high above our town, Jaco, on the Central Pacific coast of Costa Rica. At one crest in the path we stopped at a vista which was laid out with two rows of cement benches painted and chipping white. The benches were opposite an arch at the end of the short aisle. Standing out beyond the arch and looking across the countless shades of green vegetation spiriting up through the rainforest and onto the ocean and beach which lay below us brought a whole new life. The group stopped to catch breath and enjoy the view. I was filthy, mud crusted over my overpriced hiking boots caked with the decay, vegetation and various aspects of life that lived or fell on the rainforest floor. I was sweating my ass off in cut-off men’s shorts; I took a deep breath and looked out on the Pacific Ocean below. My legs were so eaten by bugs that I had enough time between overwhelming vista views to scratch my legs until they bled. As I stood and stretched, the sunscreen slowly dripped down into the bites-- stinging as the sweat sunscreen mixture smelted over my open wounds, I paused and absorbed the moment. I stood sweating, smelly, blotched with red bites, and tired.

I am more beautiful in Costa Rica than in any other place in the world.

Beauty; action.

2007-12-02T23:36:00.000-08:00

So I'm breaking up the beauty essay into sort of a series of short stories, or in the case, short reflections, each centering around different areas of my life where beauty has unmasked itself.
I'm going to post this section first even though it won't be the first in the set...

One of the most profound revelations I would come to was the broadening definition and insight that beauty would develop. This particular strand I learned through death. It is truly ironic the way life goes about handling itself, as if every lesson has to be painfully learned in the most beautiful of way.
And so it does.
My best friend’s mother was dying. I had sensed that she would from the moment I heard she had cancer. I had felt it in my soul, like when the situation was explained to me I thought, “this woman is going to die.” It was just as clear as day in my mind. And the guilt I felt right along with that made me sick. My own thoughts disgusted me in a way I could not swallow. I had no way of knowing that 3 years later I would be right, but I had an instinct, I felt the hesitation in my best friend’s voice and we both knew this was doom, even if we wouldn’t admit it or look each other in the eye when we would talk about it early on. Then as time went by we would refer to it, as something she had to take care of, something she was doing- a project she was working on-- taking care of her mother. It was easy for me to not dwell on it because we lived so far away and I did not know her mother particularly well. I could forget that she had put aside all of her own dreams, moved home after college and nursed her mother for years until her death. She and her brother, one of the most honorable men I have ever known, were the guardians, the nurses, the angels of their mother’s battle. It was not until things were literally on the edge of all create on that I truly began to realize the lesson I was being given. And I say given, because every single time we have an experience in our life that brings light, brings knowledge, into our world- it is truly a favor that life is doing for us. It was beauty again, becoming to rear its mighty head.
So we got the call while she was visiting me, I remember it was New Year’s Day. We had spent the weekend playing in the city and dancing every night, snorting as much shit up our nose as we could muster. It was a much needed break from reality. We had both just taken showers and were still each standing with our hair up and robes on, chatting about going shopping up in the City when she noticed she had a message. It was her aunt, who was caring for her mother while Jessica and I spent time together. Jessica called back. It was not good. It was bad; it was the worst we could have imagined. We stood in our towels and robes and cried at the dining room table of my shabby apartment. We cried and cried and I held her soggy towel-wrapped head against me. I had wanted to speak up and say a blessing- at that moment I felt moved to speak together with the Great Spirit and ask for something in unison. But I stopped myself. I thought it would make her uncomfortable. I knew that prayer would mean we were both admitting out loud that that’s all we had left. We both realized a little piece of the world was coming to an end. They gave her thirty days. Jessica went home early the next morning. Four days went by, the doctors and nurses said about a week. I called all of our friends and told them to pray for Jessica, pray for her brother, not to mention their mother.

Her mother lived for two more months. In her final days I was with them. Only when I could manage but that was nearly every weekend that I could hustle or borrow the money to drive or fly down and be there. Someone once said to me that the hardest thing to do in life is to just show up. For the first time in my life I showed up. I truly showed up. I had actually been visiting them for 4 days, helping support them when we knew the end was near, and hours after I left she passed. What’s interesting about those four days was the amount of life that the three of us lived, as we watched another slip effortlessly away right before our very eyes. We had important talks, we had more important cries, then we had more important talks than the previous important talk and then we cried harder than we cried before. We read to her and each other, we read alone. We shared books and watched musicals. We listened to the same cd for 4 days straight and I will probably never be able to hear it again without absolutely breaking down and losing myself in grief. But what became of three young adults in their twenties was something more powerful and breathtaking than I had ever known. It was then I learned how beautiful action is, how powerful the offensive are and how desperately painful the passive become.
It was a Monday when she died. It was early in the morning and I hate mornings. This made me hate them more.
I walked differently after that experience; held my head higher. I was beginning to understand more now. Beauty wasn’t just what I thought or how I thought of myself, it was how I handled myself, how I carried my light. I could share it, I could break down and give it away and I could walk on, erect and magnificent to share it with still others. I talked at length with a chosen few, maybe 3 or 4 about my experience. I felt it was private, very personal- and I didn’t want to touch it, didn’t want to get it wrinkled with trying to remember it too hard.
I’ve had this theory that if you try to think of a certain memory to much it makes it more blurry, almost pushes it away out to sea so it’s hard to find in your mind. So I kept this very close to my heart, as I kept them.
The relationship I built with my best friend has also taught me significantly about beauty; has taught me to embrace mine. The balance and trust that we engage in is almost uncanny. It’s like we’re trained animals with one another- give and take; ebb and flow.” It’s a dance”, as my mother always said about family, “you can just never stop dancing.” When you hit a stride with someone in this way, as I’m sure it is with love (hopefully we’ll get to that someday) it’s the least work you’ll ever do. Its work you want to do and I think when you’re in the midst of participating in an action and relationship which you feel so naturally apt- it makes you beautiful. It’s the most bizarre thing in a lot of ways. How action becomes beauty. How trust becomes beauty. I find when we one has these things in life, you can just about see it on our face. It translates into how we look and how we react to our life; making a harmony of sorts.
It took nearly 10 years for me to understand that beauty had nearly nothing to do with what assets you already held and everything to do with the assets one worked to achieve. Grace, dignity, maturity, passion, skill, enthusiasm, legitimacy, sincerity-- these were not things you were born with, these were earned and awarded virtues based on the kind of person you were. I need to believe we are granted these traits by diligence and honesty. These are not things one slips into. One can never say, “So-and-so was accidentally passionate.” Passion is not accidental.

Day 25

2007-11-14T21:38:00.000-08:00

I don’t know where or how.
Somewhere along the line—
In these 25 days,
And on this busted road…

Perseverence.

So I began to look
For other things

But I kept picking up
Ones that were broken.

Because it’s hard to let go of your old self.

24 days.

2007-11-13T19:16:00.002-08:00

Today I got 24 days and most of you don't know what that means for me, but all of you are proud of me.

And when I'm ready I'll share. And I hope you'll be there to listen.

some time ago

2007-11-13T19:16:00.001-08:00

So people have been bugging me about whether I’ve been writing. I realize people who want to see me create stay on my ass.
The truth is, I haven’t been writing.
Things have been good, some things have been great. Life just keeps handing me things to learn from and I keep gobbling them up like they are the last thing I might ever devour. I think I haven’t been writing because it means a lot to me. I’ve been reading some of my own stuff and laughing so hard I’ve cried and crying so hard I had to laugh. I deal with pain in a bad way when it’s my own. Not always in a self destructive way, but always in a way that hides it from people, or so I think… Anyway, the writing… I haven’t been doing it because I’ve been reading the old stuff- and it’s made me miss the old stuff. And now I have these days, these moments, that I’m spending with my mom and they mean so much to me… they suffocate me with the weight of their intensity… the idea that my mother and I get to share this amazing life together- and we laugh together and we just spend time together. I have people so close to me who only dream and scream about this- they want it so badly, some of them don’t even know it, some of them are drowning in its loss. And I feel that. I feel that in my soul and when I’m with her, my mom, I just know how much these moments mean- and if I talk about them- if I share them, then the severity of their influence in my life can’t be lost when she’s gone, and right now… somehow… that seems like an easier thing to do than miss her as much as I know I will. And that’s stupid. And I know that. But being stupid is not enough for me to get passed it. But here I go. Tonight. In this condition, under these circumstances. I will just try to be honest again, and do it out loud so that you can all digest it, and feel like you know me- feel like you’re touching me, which really… is all anyone who ever loved anything ever really wanted.

I wonder, often, why I got this set of circumstances. It doesn’t seem fair, and it certainly doesn’t justify the rebellion I so desperately pursued for so long. I guess everyone who ever went through that looks back and asks themselves the same question. But seriously, I feel like I won the birth lottery- I hope a lot of people feel that way, but all I hear about is people who don’t—so I feel like I need to talk about my gratitude—like if I wasn’t grateful all my blessings would be a curse I would carry.

Oh! One more thing...

2007-10-19T15:38:00.000-07:00

For those of you bothering me about when I'm going to put up some of my "real writing."

I've started again, and I'll post it. But you've been warned: it's pretty heavy.

I'll try to come up with something funny sooner, rather than later.

Also, "Beauty; a meditation," will be back, but it will be broken into smaller entries, rather than kept as one long, rambling, long-winded post, as I felt it was before.

Ok, that's all.

Back, by popular demand!

2007-08-28T19:44:00.001-07:00

There is a natural phenomena that takes place in the mind of every single shopper (aside from yours truly) that steps inside a grocery store. Man, woman, child- old and young, no one (except me) is apparently exempt from this fate.
You step inside the supermarket- those smudged glass doors opening on the command of your delicate foot's pressure.
BAM! You're in.
Suddenly, you OWN the fucking supermarket. You've been here once before, you've walked these aisles, and doing such is as good as pissing a circle around the entire building. This is your domain. You own it. You want it. You need it. It's yours.
There are close to one hundred other shoppers throughout this conglomerate market. They do not exist in your world.
You will stop where you please. You will not heed the call of other shopper's to step aside. You want to stop in the middle of the lane, well damnit it's your right! This is your kingdom- the empire of your tummy. You will not be commanded.
My tiny voice is beside you. You are maneuvering a 3'x2' cart, I, having only a small basket, call out- "excuse me" in only a whimper.
You stand your guard. You're thinking... "the chunky tomato soup or the creamy?" You think more, you grew up on creamy, you love the creamy. But the animal inside you urges- you're a grown up Priscilla, buy the chunky! Live on the edge. You know the tikes won't eat it, it will scare them like the dentist florid gurgle." You stand mute.
I repeat myself a touch louder, "um, pardon me."
You're thinking, "that bitch can wait, my kids are my life, I was born to serve them- they won't eat the chunky but I know my husband Ed wants to try new things- maybe this is the beginning."
I stammer, "UHEM. Mam? Excuse me? I'm trying..." I motion to the opposite side of the aisle, thinking in my mind- I'll show her I won't even be in her way, I just want to step aside. I look hopefully at the side of her head which has quickly turned away from me.
She does not move. Priscilla owns aisle 12 and there ain't no white bitch in San Jose's gonna tell her to scoot.
I notice she's got a box of Capri Sun drinks- she could bash me over the head with that shit and it's over.
I want to yell, I want to scream- "Now damnit I want some fucking ranch dressing you middle aged wench. Step aside and let me get the bottle. LET ME GET THE FUCKING BOTTLE."
I say nothing. I pause. I wait. I know she heard me. She's freezing me out. What the fuck?
But it's too late. I try to squeeze around the side of her cart. I lift my measly basket high in the air. I suck in. I'm trying to jam my size 8 ass past her enormous cart, I push up against the cart and it moves a 1/4 of an inch to the left. She stops. She turns to me and with eyes like Satan himself stares me down. I've touched her chariot. I have dared to move the vehicle of her empire. I stop wedging myself. I freeze. I look at the Capri Sun box. I look at Priscilla. She takes a breath and before she can let it out I pop past her cart and grab the ranch dressing.
Light? Sonofabitch. I want the regular dressing, but it's too late to turn back now. I'm running down the aisle in full throttle, that nasty lady has got half a mind to kick my ass.
Phew. I made it out of there. I'll have to dodge the tomato soup nazi the rest of my trip, but just like a gunner in Ho Chi Min City I can survive. I just need some chicken, that's in a long case- it should be quick in and out mission.
I walk briskly to the frozen meats. This is the Iceland of the market. My nipples get hard, my heart it beating hard, I clench my fist, rub my arms and prepare for battle.
Already I am defeated.
The senior center has brought a van load of the oldest and most decrepit of it's residence. They too need frozen meat. They each wield armored carts which have about as much a chance of me getting passed as I do getting the soup wench to give me a night with Ed.
I turn around dejected. There will be no chicken tonight. I just don't have the strength. My legs are weak from fear and the sprint from aisle 12. I hobble lamely to the register, I absent mindedly skip the Express Checkout. I will now wait in line for 21 minutes to buy my ranch dressing which I will squeeze onto pasta from a Mac & Cheese box and eat alone in my apartment.
Tomorrow I will get chicken and I will prevail.

(To be continued...)

August 26, 2007

2007-08-26T11:17:00.001-07:00

It's hard to run away from the idea of something.

August 2007 half yearly review.

2007-08-21T16:14:00.001-07:00

2007

I've learned you have to be careful what you wish for.

I've found that having patience will change your life.

I've learned you can't live anyone else's life for them; they're going to fuck up their own life and in someway you will fuck up yours, but in the end you will both learn. On your own, independently, they way God intended it.

I've learned that there will be hills and valleys of happiness, sometimes just instances. I've learned I'm lucky if I have anything and to shut the fuck up when I'm frustrated I don't have more. There's never enough.

I've learned what it means to have a genuine, honest relationship with one's family.

I've found that people you keep close to your heart will lie to you, to save themselves the embarrassment of having to tell the truth. I've learned this isn't about me. This is about them.

I've learned that as soon as you get settled, something will inspire you to sell it all and run away. This is never a good idea.

I've learned not to want anything too much. In the end, everything goes away.

I've been taught that two people can connect in a single endless night, in a way that some people can't even do in a relationship lasting years.

I've learned you have to let friends go, they're not gone, but they have to go- just like at one point, I did too.

I've learned life is way more expensive than what I would have agreed to upon signing the "you're a grown up now" manual and contract sheet.

I've learned I may need to lift my ban on sunscreen.

I've learned that if you buy a ridiculously expensive rug, your cat is going to puke on it no matter what. He/she does not have any concept of money or carpeting.

I've found that if you find your boss' kids on myspace, you should save on your personal computer those pics they posted of themselves half naked in Cabo. Those will come in handy.

I've learned that a wedding is as much about the people paying for it, as the one's in it.

I've found that if you buy a house, and that house has overhead fans controlled by remote- YOU SHOULD LEAVE THEM THERE WHEN YOU MOVE OUT! Why screw a sista over?

I've found that the best foreplay is intense and passionate conversation between two people that push each other to be better than the things they already know.

a single thought

2007-08-16T15:30:00.000-07:00

When you can no longer contribute in making your life, or your existence better, I think many parts of youe begin to die.

I was looking at this picture of Afghanistan today (seen right) and it dawned on me that this image could have been taken yesterday, when it fact it was taken in 1933. I think that's a sign of societal deterioration, rather than the preservation of tradition.

But I could be wrong... it's happened before.

The day my brother was born. (true story)

2007-08-15T16:41:00.000-07:00

Three weeks later her mother would die, but my mom didn't know that at the time.

She knew a couple of things: #1 she was going to give birth to her first child momentarily; #2 her husband had been checked into the hospital at the same time she was with a serious flu that led to dangerous dehydration.

She wasn't concerned about her husband. She was concerned about herself. There was nobody with her. No encouraging words, no support- so she lay in her hospital bed and let her self cry. She was going to do this alone.

The door opened.

Her father walked in and came to her side. She had not called him, no one had. He had driven from his home 2 hours away. He had called the hospital when he got to her house and she was not there.

All she could manage was, "what are you doing here?"

"I just knew you needed me."

Post Secret

2007-07-04T23:23:00.000-07:00

I did a jazz dance to the song "Barbie & the Rockers" at Great America in elementary school (picture coming soon) and got booed while on stage. It was the lowest point of my dancing career.

Hi, I'm new here.

2007-07-03T16:24:00.000-07:00

This is my first official blog.

Can you sense the excitement?

There's some electricity in the air...

A "buzz" if you will... it's terribly exciting, right?

Maybe you peed a little when you saw I had a blog. But your undies absorbed it so by the time you actually go take a pee you won't even feel bad or remember that it happened.

That's the kind of buzz I'm hoping you get out this experience.

This is Hil...

this is my blog.