incessant ramblings of a catatonic photographer

Not Yet Home

2011-09-14T01:50:00.002-04:00

This is a blog that i started documenting our apartment hunting, and the stories about them.

Kind of a Law and Order about searching for a place to live after being kicked out of our home.

it's a work in progress and eventually will be turned into a book, and hopefully, an exposition.

have a looksee here...

2011-09-12T15:12:00.000-04:00

She was young. Younger than i was for sure.
Kind looking, quiet, responsible.
The type of person I would like to oversee my mental health care.

The doctor will see you in a bit. I'm just getting settled - first day and all...

The Allan Memorial - an old turn of the century mansion that was transformed in the 1950's to become Canada's leading psychiatric hospital.

Project MK Ultra was conceived and carried out here. Despite it's old world eclectic charm, and the fact that it does not look like a hospital, only the ghosts of tormented minds and their terrifying secrets haunt the hallways.

I wait and scour the library - journals on pharmapsychology, lots of books by Jung, on topics such as behavioral therapy, addiction, mixed in with volumes of textbooks on the deep tentacles of mental illness and its many faces. Fascinating and terrifying...

There is a book on the table, thin white pages, the kind that are almost transparent. Similar to a bible, this is a sacred text of another sort. Complicated details behind the mystery of sleep, a look into the brain of a somnambulist, replete with medications that have over 20 letters and black and white etched drawings of EEGs with interesting wave patterns.

Sleep.
What I would not do to have enough of that...

Last night, i was hounded by images of 911: the twin towers crumbling like dead rose petals from the sky, people leaping to their death, tears.
So many tears.

Survivor guilt. Deep seated paranoia. Death. Like a tidal wave, these thoughts picked up momentum and pieces of my fragmented psyche until i was staring at an illuminated 5am notice. 2 more hours until i was supposed to get up. 4 more until I was to meet the doctor that would be the one to "refer" me to the next level of a medicated bipolar haze.

Come on in and have a seat.

The room was white, stark yet the antique charm of the old mansion welcomed me. I began to relax.

I'm going to take some notes while we talk, is that okay with you?

You better get out an extra pen, you'll run out of ink before I get to my medical history in my 20's...

Standard questions: what medication are you on now, how are you feeling? Side effects?

Then they gradually became more detailed: can you tell me when this all started? How old were you? What kind of medications have you been on? Have you ever heard voices? Seen things that were not there? Thoughts or actual suicide attempts in the past? Any family history of mental illness?

I started with the side effects.

The list was long and detailed. Every one that came into my mind and out of my mouth seemed surreal, silly, incidental in the grand scheme of things. In the light of what happened 10 years ago yesterday. 9/11 = 911.

Weight gain, foggy mental state, body aches, restless sleep, and apathy. I think apathy has to be the biggest and most troublesome one.

Can you explain?

How can you explain apathy when you are yourself, apathetic? Why should I care? Why do you care? Who cares?

Continuing seemed pointless, but i pushed through, rambling off the litany of adjectives and adverbs that had become the lexicon of my state of mind over the past year.

Can you please explain?

My mind flashed back to the lonely narrative in my film. "Sleep was my escape, and I did that often. Getting up in the morning and having to face the day was an awful thought..."

How far did I actually come from those paralyzing moments? Full circle. 20 years later, it is all a revival of painful memories that I'm living on a different level. More aware, but none the more cured.

Going back to those memories was difficult. There were several instances when I stopped, took a breath and brought myself back to the whiteness of the room because for an instant, i was walking downtown alone in a snow storm, hoping that I would spontaneously disappear because my brain was stretching the limit of how I saw reality and life around me. My head hurt. My eyes hurt. My soul ached and there was nothing I could do about it. Wandering around the medical system in a waiting game limbo took its toll on me, but this time, was coming in for a crash landing.

And here i am again, barely making it, stable, but scraping the bottom of a shallow existence of a dead end decade, treading water, barely afloat in an ocean of selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors.

I've tried almost everything. I was once on 3 anti-depressants and 3 mood stabilizers all at once. Nothing works anymore. Now I fear that no chemical soup will be able to cure me.

There was a slight hint of pleading in my voice, hoping that this young resident, fresh out of medical school, still carrying a backpack, not yet jaded by hospital bureaucracy and suffering burnout would be able to understand, sympathize.

An hour had passed along with the 200 questions about my mental state, family history, recollections of manic and depressive episodes past, the extent of my extended vocabulary/lexicon of anti-psychotic/anti-seizure medications. I watched as she furiously scribbled notes, picking out key phrases, antidotes, flags, perhaps the relics of what was once a sane human being.

I will review your case with the doctor and will be with you shortly.

And shortly it was.
Abruptly so that i wondered if the doctor had even taken the time to let the intern finish the story of my life as I am barely living it now.

Middle aged man, thinning straight dark hair, pasty white complexion, antique white, like the walls of his office. Hello, I'm Dr.M, please have a seat.

Nice to meet you, as I had imagined me sticking out my hand to shake his, but instead, grabbed my purse and held it close to my chest. Protective pleather armor to shield me from his adroit diagnosis.

I knew it was coming. His matter of fact textbook look, shuffling of papers - the preamble to a "well, this is what it is and that is all we can do..."

After reviewing your file, I have to say that perhaps anti-depressants are not for you. In several case studies, we have found that these can actually trigger mania in patients that are bipolar, so i think we should start you on a course of Lamictal with some Abilify."

pause

I'm sure you've seen the commercials

yea - the ones with the litany of side effects that rival the ingredients of a david lynch film

well, most patients tolerate this drug relatively well, and in a small case, only 7% complain about weight gain...

my big thing was feeling flat and weight gain. Two situations that would push me deeper into a dark hole of despair if they were thrust on me knowingly.

but that's 93% of people who don't experience weight gain...

yea, sunny side of the street, glass half full instead of half empty. Hate to tell you this dude, but i am the side effects queen. After having worked in photo labs for years, soaking my fingers in stop bath and other delighful acid washes, my immune system had now morphed into it's own bipolar monster. Like mother, like daughter. My inner was a reflection of my outer self.

and then we'll put you up to 150mg of lamictal, perhaps even higher to a 'therapeutic dose", up to 800mg.

I began to sputter. My mind working faster than my mouth could open and shut: "but that is the medication that is making me feel flat! At 150mg, i felt like a zombie!"

Well, perhaps that was something else making you feel that way. I would like to see you only on lamicatal with some abilify. No more anti-depressants. Primarily mood stabilizers/anti psychotics.

Clutching my pleather shield, i flashed back to the days on lithium. Bloated, 30 pounds overweight and experiencing a deep brain freeze that left me barely able to speak. Sure, i was stable, but at what cost?

and then it hit me: Had I been born 50 years ago, i might have been on the operating table, prime candidate for a lobotomy.
Terrifying.

50 years ago, hospitalized, hopeless and helpless, I imagined myself diving into the abyss of a certain metaphysical death. Circumstances beyond my control; the desperate ranting of other lost souls echoing over mine. I would have no choice in the matter. My fate would be decided for me.

The now famous photo of "The falling man", gracefully plunging head first to his demise while the twin towers behind him burned.

Damned if you do, damned if you don't. What is the lesser of the two evils?

Mood stabilizers are the modern day lobotomy without the mess. For all I know, the chemical composition of my ransacked neural connections thanks to these drugs might soon resemble a plate of watery scrambled eggs. Either way, it wasn't going to be pretty.

And we will push to have you seen at the mood disorders clinic, that way, we can follow you closely was we make the switch. Your case history is too complicated to be seen as a regular out patient. We will try to fast track you back into the system.

Swallow a pill, make it all go away. Now you're quiet. Good. Stay like that...

I feigned relief and thankfulness.

In and out in less than 10 minutes.

I threw a look over to the new intern, a non verbal: "you gotta help me here! I know there are options! Didn't anybody hear my concerns about the side effects? Did anybody hear what I said about "feeling flat was the same as feeling dead inside?!"

She looked at me, with hands figurative tied, shook mine and whispered: "good luck".

And so it begins again.
Back to where I started 20+ years ago.
What I thought I had left behind has come back to haunt.

Those ghosts of my inner demons always so present, now resurrected and revisited.

Clair Obscure - a visual autobiography from Kathy Slamen on Vimeo.

I'm back...

2011-09-12T13:41:00.003-04:00

I'm back, well at least partially...

more details to follow...

wow - what a long time!

2011-02-10T19:56:00.002-05:00

Geeze, where did the time go?
I can tell you - into a supermassive black hole called apartment hunting.

Still nothing, and the stress/tension is mounting.

It has taken over my life and my body, mind and soul.

I'm hoping to visit here in a little while, but in the meantime, I'm twittering.

Short bursts of brilliance.

Very zen and bitchy at the same time.

hasta luego!

when i'm old...

2011-02-10T19:54:00.002-05:00

This is all I wish for

too funny!!

a letter to a friend - from one filmmaker to another...

2010-12-12T16:06:00.002-05:00

A letter to a friend - he screening of her short film was a huge success last night, but she shared with me her feelings of "not having something that was i thought "good enough" - and that she is ever so aware of how being 'hard on herself' can be a 'not such a good thing..."

my response...

Oh, I all too well know the feeling/state of mind of being "hard on oneself". I feel that it might be the key as to why I'm so "stuck" lately.

Sure, setting impossibly high standards for myself has allowed me to push through some times of being "sluggish and sitting on my ass/lazy" periods in my life, when being my own drill sergeant was a necessary evil to get things done, but for the most part, when I'm feeling vulnerable and very self conscious about who i am, where I'm going and who i am becoming/what i'm doing, mental self flagellation in the name of "progress" can lead to emotional/psychological welts that are long lasting. The scars being a more detrimental result than the idea behind the punishment...

the saying is true - we are our own worst enemy, and I could totally identify with your pre-screening jitters last night - wanting to make sure everything was perfect, wondering if there was not something "more that could have not been done" to the final product.... it's so hard to let go of knowing that when "a film is 'in the can'", little can be changed at that point, and the moment of letting go can be a bittersweet experience.

When i screened my student film for the first time to 500 people, i was so freaked out that i was sure projectile vomit was inevitable, i took a breath, congratulated myself on months of hard work, and allowed myself and the film to finally 'breathe'.

Take the time to bask in the afterglow of the exhale - yesterday was a huge success, and as a filmmaker myself, i could see that every ounce of hours of sweat, anger, frustration and horror, happiness, excitement and love for your project that you experienced was worth it. At least it was for me :-) Thank you for sharing your cinematic/animation baby !!

Phenomenal!

2010-11-25T22:23:00.000-05:00

This just blows my mind out of the water.

This director is simply the most visually stimulating creative visionary I have seen in decades.

I am awestruck, and you should be as well...

when it rains, the sky opens up and pours battery acid from the heavens...

2010-11-20T22:32:00.001-05:00

WTF?

Along with all the crap today (5 apartments, either beautiful and out of reach price wise or affordable but bona-fide shit holes), i got an email from a dear friend. One of her parents has a brain tumor.

With age, they had become not well, and many had feared the worst from their other ailments compounded, but not this.

And i feel helpless as she is on the other side of the ocean.
If I only had even two pennies to rub together, i would be there in a split second.

Time to glue on some fake feathers and make some wings.

Life is getting overwhelming no matter where we are...

home, not so sweet home...

2010-11-18T22:03:00.000-05:00

Nothing can shake anybody more to the core than losing a home. A place to live, sleep, find comfort, feel safe. Without all those things, every day living seems a little less bearable.

This past Tuesday, E and I found out that we are basically being kicked out of our apartment. The landlords have decided to re-appropriate our apartment and make it their own. They own just under half a dozen properties/apartment blocks. That's more than a dozen units. Why they singled us out is, upon speculation and processes of elimination of various facts/factors is that we have been at our place for the past 10 years. Our rent is cheaper compared to the other units. They "move in" for a few months, make some half assed repairs and then re-rent it for almost double what we are paying for it.

We were served the papers by a bailiff on Monday night. A day after my huge meltdown chez mom. Fatigue, chronic pain, the inability to live a normal life due to this pain, and the onset of winter (the horrible in between stages of grey/lifeless landscapes and pretty snow covered wonderland) all began to erode away my spirit. This was the straw that broke my back.

I almost went into shock.
Why?
Why now?

We had been battling noisy downstairs neighbors for some time. Four teenagers from France - pompous, arrogant, and selfish, they run around the place at all hours of the night. Basically treating the apartment like a dormitory. We had to call the cops twice. Parties almost every night. They have quieted down, but just enough so we can't call the cops because four teenagers sitting around a kitchen table laughing their asses off at 3am doesn't warrant police intervention.

E is miserable. His company have come to a screeching halt and he worries about the future of his position. I do too. And it shows. We both look beaten down and weary. The love is there, but with weary hearts and minds, our patience is almost nil. We are supposed to be on the same page, but the tension is tearing our souls down. Exhaustion is an understatement

We are going to fight this eviction. The grounds for them giving us the boot is "well, you're place was the cheapest and we need a place to live". Bastards. Just last week, they gave us the pablum of song and dances, telling us they were going to break the lease of the kids below us because we weren't the only ones who complained about the noise and that they were to be served papers on Monday. But joke was on us. We were the ones who got the papers.

Stupid fucken bastards.
Be careful whom you trust from France.
Of the dozen or so people I have met from that country, only one was sincere and nice, and not the backstabbing, arrogant, snide, and sneaky frenchmen I knew. And this man was the exception to the rule for the only reason I believe to be was that he was a Buddhist.

And so the task begins, picking up, looking for a new home. After 10 years, a forced move from a place we called "home sweet home" will not be our home anymore.

Sad strange days indeed...

art with purpose

2010-11-10T18:41:00.000-05:00

We all feel the need to find purpose in our lives.
I have been struggling with this for many decades.
Thought i found meaning, but it was fleeting.
Am still searching but it seems more and more elusive as time goes by.

I wish I were able to create art that impacted the world like this brilliant man.

Jason DeCaries Taylor, underwater magician

car pool tunnel syndrome...

2010-11-03T01:01:00.003-04:00

I had to laugh - the last episode of Modern Family, Gloria misunderstands American Phrases, like - "it scared the bejesus out of me" as "it scared the baby Jesus out of me", and "carpal tunnel syndrome" as you guess it, "car pool tunnel syndrome". So in typing this, i am aggravating my carpool tunnel syndrome as my fancy pancy blue velcro wrist immobilizer is currently in the wash (gawd. I have shweaty wrists...)

Last update - Action Theater Acting Improv class.

The practice of Action Theater incorporates the disciplined exploration of embodied exercises that lead to increased skills of strong, clear, spontaneous, and artful communication.

Action Theater addresses and expands the vocabularies of expression including: movement, vocalization, and speech. Action Theater is a tool to examines one's perceptive and responsive process, bringing awareness to and thereby disempowering distracting thoughts of self obsessions, fears, judgments and analysis.

My Lord, that was a gift from the heavens.

Four hours of mostly physical improv a day, for a week. I swear - four pounds must have been screamed/danced/twirled/laughed/shimmied off in those five days.

incredible experience.

I never realized how difficult improv could be, but having done it myself for the first time many years ago when I was literally, thrown into a movie role (because the director didn't have the foresight to cast an extra character, so in between my loading up film stock into the movie cameras, my part was born! I won't tell you what part I played but you can see it for yourself - Draghoula - check it out..), one of the main actresses, right off the plane from L.A was floored to hear that it was my first gig. "You're a goddam natural!"

And so it began...

but this improv class was nothing like I had ever experienced.

Ruth Zaporah is a world renowned artist and her "action theater" has pioneered the teaching of Improvisational performance. She gives only a few workshops a year, and this one happened to be in Canada. I was on a gallery/dance studio's mailing list and one day, the message floated into my inbox.

To tell you the truth, I have no clue how this gallery/dance studio got my email address. Perhaps it was just one of those divine intervention/synchronous/it was meant to be moments. Whatever it was, I am so very thankful for because this class literally changed my life...

I'm quite pooped - spent the evening with mom in the hospital keeping her company in the emergency, and am still reeling from the toxic curry meltdown I had from the incredible food poisoning from Saturday night's meal @ an Indian restaurant, but will have to revisit this "acting theater workshop" experience in greater detail while it's fresh in my head and in my body.

Odd thing to say, but it really was a whole body transformational experience; it made me realize how deeply connected we are to these bones and casing of flesh - and that how by being aware of this connection, being able to stay present in the moment and allow the body to speak and not let the mind edit/hinder/manipulate while watching helplessly as it moves into the driver's seat, beautiful things can happen.

Check it out
It's been a week and I'm going through improv withdrawal.
I'm going to miss acting out what it means to be a rock and a pile of mud...

back soon with more details/insights.

everything and nothing

2010-10-22T01:56:00.002-04:00

Have been busy, have been quiet.
have been hyper, have been tired
achy and euphoric, melancholy and mindful
everything and nothing
all at once, nothing at all...

amen

2010-10-17T03:08:00.005-04:00

I'm not a hugely religious person, and I've had my issues with the Catholic church for many reasons, but faith is something personal. Over the past few years, it has been shaken and put to the test, but there always seemed to be great comfort when I would go to St. Joseph's Oratory, and then pause at the crypt of Brother Andre.

I remember going there as a child, awestruck by the immensity of the chapel. The poetic and delicately ornate archways, the sun beaming through the stained glass in the ceiling and from the iconic windows. The smell of incense and the burning candles, which were, literally - a sea of glowing light, and the hundreds of canes and crutches hanging from the walls of people whom he had cured over the years.

A humble man, small and frail in stature who had such an incredible presence.

Returning as an adult, there was peace and serenity in the quiet halls. Being surrounded by warmth and love just made me feel safe.

And now, Canada will have its first canonized saint. I'd stay up until 4am to watch the mass from the vatican, but after several days without sleep, i will try go to bed, and try to dream of watching this pious soul watching from above, with a smile on his face...

From the Montreal Gazette, Saturday October 16th, 2010

— The praises of a once penniless, sickly and illiterate porter were literally sung here Saturday to honour the man who is on the cusp of becoming the first Canadian-born male saint.

Led by the Pontifical French Seminary choir, more than 1,000 pilgrims sang the hymn Frere Andre as a large black-and-white portrait of the lay brother was carried to the altar of Sant’Andrea della Valle, an ornate 17th-century church dedicated to Saint Andrew the Apostle.

It was standing-room-only at the prayer vigil on the eve of the big day. On Sunday, Brother Andre, will become the first male Catholic saint born in Canada during a ceremony in St. Peter’s Square.

“Simple, pauvre, humble frere, coeur d’apetre / Pour le royaume. Simple, pauvre, frere Andre / Dans ta priere prends les notres,” they sang as the portrait was placed on an easel, and immediately illuminated by the flashes of dozens of cameras.The prayer vigil was led by Andre Richard, Archbishop of Moncton and a member of the Congregation of Holy Cross, the order Alfred Bessette joined in 1870 when he took the name Brother Andre.

At the event, the man to be known as Saint Andre Bessette was remembered as a compassionate man who stood out because of his inspiring life story and his unique way of helping people in pain. Having lost both parents by age 12, Bessette was separated from his brothers and sisters and sent to live with family members. He tried unsuccessfully to make it on his own, drifting from job to job in Quebec before moving to New England, Gerard Dionne, a Holy Cross brother, told the crowd.

After returning to Quebec when he was in his early 20s, Bessette settled in St. Cesaire, Que., southeast of Montreal, where local priest Rev. Andre Provencal inspired him to devote himself to Saint Joseph, foster father of Jesus Christ.
Bessette spent so much time praying to Saint Joseph, local children mocked him as “le fou de St. Joseph,” Dionne said. Provencal recommended him to the Congregation of Holy Cross, which ran College Notre Dame in Cote des Neiges. “I’m sending you a saint,” Provencal said in his recommendation letter, Dionne noted.

Though wary because of Bessette’s poor health, the congregation took him in. Bessette became Brother Andre. He was given the lowly job of taking care of the school’s reception area. For years, he dreamt of building a small chapel dedicated to Saint Joseph, across from College Notre Dame, on Mount Royal.
“Brother Andre placed a statue of St. Joseph on his windowsill, with the face turned toward the mountain,” Dionne said. “When people asked why, his answer was quite simple: Saint Joseph wants to have a chapel on the mountain where he can be honoured and prayed to.” That chapel would be built in 1904 and then expanded a few years later. Untold numbers of people came to seek help from Brother Andre, who would tell them to rub oil that had burned in front of a statue of Saint Joseph on their bodies, and seek Saint Joseph’s help in prayer.
He became known as the Miracle Man of Montreal, with thousands of people attributing to him miraculous recoveries from everything from physical infirmities to tuberculosis to cancer.

Eventually, construction began on a grand building to replace Brother Andre’s simple chapel. But the worldwide economic depression of the 1920s stalled the project, leaving his superiors unable to gather the money to finish it.
A few weeks before his death in 1937, Brother Andre invited his superiors, who were unsure of how to proceed, to put their confidence in Saint Joseph, Dionne said. “In middle of winter, they held a procession and placed a statue of Saint Joseph in the vast interior” of the roofless oratory. “Just one year later, when Brother Andre was no longer in this world,” Dionne said, “we were able to finish this immense building, which became Saint Joseph’s Oratory, the biggest sanctuary in the world dedicated to Saint Joseph, visited by two million people every year.”

In a closing prayer, Rev. Richard Warner, the Rome-based superior general of the Congregation of Holy Cross, noted Brother Andre’s commitment to the poor and the afflicted and asked God to help others to follow in Andre’s footsteps.
“Through (Brother Andre’s) intercession, help us to follow his example of prayer and love and so come to share with him in your glory,” Warner said. As they streamed out of Sant’Andrea della Valle, whose dome is the second largest in Rome, surpassed only by Saint Peter’s Basilica, pilgrims reflected on the man they came to celebrate. “He was a humble man who helped the neediest in our world and he deserves to be honoured,” said Montreal resident Mary Vincelli. “This world needs role models and he’s one of the best.”

For Jacques Gilbert, also of Montreal, the prayer vigil was a bit of deja vu. He attended a similar event at Sant’Andrea della Valle in 1982, when Pope John Paul II beatified Brother Andre. “I didn’t want to miss the actual canonization,” said Gilbert, 78. “It’s not every day you see a saint made.’

wired and fried

2010-10-06T04:41:00.000-04:00

Oh so many photos.
Transfered about 20 cds to my HD tonight.

So many photos. Boggles the mind.
And duplicates - enough to make my head spin.

but i'm in a ocd mood. Had to get it all done.
4:30am and i'm still wide awake.

Did a whole hour in the pool today - stopping only for about a minute or so every so often. Still not happy with my results.

Damn you Russian coach in my head!!

So you would think i would be exhausted by now.

Nope.

but must sleep.
Swim class 2mrw.

Need grounding.
Wired and fried.

(peugh. Just rubbed my nose. That smell of chlorine is brutal. How the hell do i get that off me?!?!)

Saw cbt phd student today.
she's wonderful.

"don't worry, I'm confident that together we will get you the help you need."

Needed to hear that.

She gave me a questionnaire.

Gawd. I never realized how ocd/self sabotaging i really am.

but making the moves to change that.

Looking forward to going back into the darkroom again.

Oh what saving grace to be able to take photos so organically again....

Ativan take me away!

black eye from a dog

2010-09-27T01:10:00.001-04:00

no, i did not fall down the stairs
no, i didn't walk into a door either.
And a big no - to my husband beating me.

I got a black eye from a dog last night.

Was at a friend's party and his husky seemed quite zen, walking from room to room, foraging for food, until near the end of the night, i guess he was getting irritated. I went to pet him and he turned around and snapped at my face, his muzzle and one tooth narrowly missed my eye. I have a cut there now, and a black eye.

Lovely.

Mom: "You might get rabies! Make sure he had his shots!!"

oi vey.

So ice, and lots of hydrogen peroxide. This story is one for the record books...

rationalize the irrational

2010-09-25T03:11:00.000-04:00

had an awesome day today.
Swam for an hour. 45 minutes no stop. 40 laps. Not bad for somebody who has not exercised in eons...

It felt good - to be buoyant. Body moving effortlessly through the water. Arms displacing fluid, the sound of my own breath breaking the pace.

Got new swim fins. Cute little things. Look like stubbed flipper toes. Not too long that it will kick the person behind you in the head, but enough to make waves that mimic a small hurricane throughout the pool.

I moved effortlessly because i was not afraid of the water, where i was going, what i was doing. I saw the bottom and it was not too far away from reach.

I have this irrational fear of deep pools.
Deep oceans don't bother me as much - perhaps it's the turquoise that is calming to me. When i was in cuba, i would go snorkeling for miles by myself, without a fear in the world. Floating effortlessly, the water calm and undersea life watching me watch them. And the salt water, no matter how hard I tried, I could not stay down long enough to get very close to anything. Skimming the surface.

But pools on the other hand, are my nemeses.
There is something that scares the shit out of me when it comes to looking into a deep pool. Perhaps because the blue is so very intense. So very deep. Perhaps it harks back to the first time i learned how to swim. We were literally thrown in the deep end of the pool. I hyperventilated as i tried to dog paddle, making me even more exhausted that much faster. My little arms and legs moving furiously - trying to keep me afloat - to keep me from sinking to my watery grave.

The teachers would have never let this happen, but it's a chore to tame a monkey mind - let alone the rabid monkey mind of a 7 year old.

And that fear stuck with me for a long time.

And was revisited last week @ my swim class.
The deep end drops off to 12 feet from a 5 feet base. Just like that - deep.

I had a panic attack the first time i swam it. What was i afraid of? I don't know. Even 35 years later, it still haunts me.

I can swim. Swim quite well actually. But when i'm stressed, i sink like a stone. Working against the waves instead of with them is a recipe for near disaster.

C'mon guys - 20 laps in less than 15 minutes.
I almost cried.
This is only the 2nd intermediate swim class! It's not the Olympics!!

So i paddled through, only making it to 12 in 18 minutes. And even that was pushing it. I was exhausted.

But why then, today, was i able to do 40 laps in less than 45 minutes?

There was no fear.
I swam with ease.
i was one with the movement and water.

This pool slowly drops off to 7 feet. Slowly.
I did not panic, i did not dread.
The daylight shone through the skylights, and i felt refreshed.
My swim classes on the other hand - 8 - 9pm.
Dark dark and deep..

But it's all about endurance.
i know that once i feel comfortable on my own turf, within my own pre-defined set of known variables that i will feel comfortable anywhere else uncertainty may strike.

And tonight, a joyous meeting with friends.
Play pushing through. Getting down the bones of the essence of the work. Bbby will help me but it will always remain my "baby". And I know he understands that and I'm happy he does.

This is a writing match made in heaven.
This play is going to go places.
The sky and is the limit.

I move effortlessly because i am not afraid of these waters, where i am going, what i am doing. I see the distance and it is not too far away from reach...

ebay-atosis-itis

2010-09-23T19:20:00.000-04:00

Yikes. I'm turning into Fred Flintsone over here...

ebay-alatosis-itis

I shunned M when she got an airbrush spray tan in a box thing from the shopping network, cause I'm not far behind. But at least I'm being sensible with my addiction. A photographer can never have enough light stands, diffusers, gels, lenses, camera bags, batteries, filters...

sign sign everywhere a sign...

2010-09-20T11:59:00.004-04:00

out of the blue, a friend of a friend forwards this to me.
She didn't see my last posts. She does not know me or the monumental changes that are taking place in my life right now.
Yet this message keeps on repeating itself in one way, shape, or form with incredible urgency.

Think I have to listen, understand and act...

THE 3 C's OF LIFE..............CHOICES----CHANCES----CHANGES.............YOU MUST MAKE A CHOICE TO TAKE A CHANCE OR YOUR LIFE WILL NEVER CHANGE

La Haine - still haunts...

2010-09-20T06:33:00.013-04:00

After last night's ranting and stirrings of cinematic inspiration, i felt a need to push through my own jagged creative blocks because i know that on the other side, the pain will be worth it...

I was completley "bouleverse" (damn you mac keyboard - I can't find an accent aigu when in need it!) because the writing in La Haine was so exquisite, perspicacious, and the depth to which the characters were fleshed out made me think of the astute complexities of Becket or Williams, and how, essentially, the whole film could have been a stage play (albeit the logistics of gunfire would have created many a bleeding eardrum for the audience members...). The testament to the strength of Kassovitz's written word as well as the power of a well rounded actor reciting that eloquent and prosaic prose, spurned me into moving forward with turning my play into something that would surpass my own dreams and expectations.

I met with D - a truly beautiful soul, delightful photographer, prolific writer, and society conscious documentary film maker. We talked for hours at a local cafe about everything under the sun, stars and moon. We 'get each other' and as an artist, there is no greater comfort in knowing that somebody out there "gets you" and your vision.

I told him about this play that had been pushing through my (un and) consciousness. Something so prevalent in every waking and sleeping moment - it was as if the letters from the sentences in my mind were falling from my pores when I stopped moving. Complete scenes, monologues, ideas for stage direction, fast and furious - so quick i could not write them down. But brilliant ideas.

"I know this play will make people nervous, angry, laugh, become sick to their stomach, weep, and rise to their feet. I see it. I feel it. This project is bigger than me. I have only notes on paper, but a dream in my heart and head. Mark my words, this is gonna be huge."

And with that - D began to work with me. Brainstorming. Fast and furious in his excitement. He saw my vision with his own eyes. It was fucken brilliant.

And all this brings be back to a summer day in 1995 - "Le Festival Des Films Du Monde - Montreal". Taking my seat in The Imperial, the year before, still fresh in my memory, i sat down to watch a young man's film from France that would change the trajectory of my creative life.

And as I type this, I know that these new projects - this play, this conceptual photo shoot will mark a new chapter in my life. Or perhaps it is the new book. A new journey, a new life altogether...

some regrets are regretful

2010-09-19T04:27:00.008-04:00

I saw a brilliant film, for the 2nd time, with new eyes, and it was as brilliant today as it was back in 1995 when it saw it for the first time at the Montreal World Film Festival.

La Haine by Mathieu Kassovitz.

Seeing that film on the big screen is a must - because the power of the image is lost on a small screen (not entirely, the characters and writing are simply phenomenal), but this was a film that was instrumental in influencing my reasons to be a filmmaker.

I can remember when it came out and I saw it here at the WWF. People were still reeling from their raging erection over Resevoir Dogs and i could not understand why. Taratino made over the top, in-your-face-violence sexy. Critics hailed him as a genius. When La Haine came out, I told everybody and their dog to RUN and see this film.

"If you think smart ass is the best thing since sliced bread, then you will see that this young man is the best thing since the electricity!"

was my pre-amble and would quickly pique the interest of the testosterone mongers.

"And if you think Resevoir Dogs was raw, then you will walk out of this film with shit stains in your pants. Kassovitz does not make violence sexy. He makes it real. Yes, the film's atmosphere is fuled with fear, hate, and agression, it's also filled with a small glimmer of hope. Any act of aggression is primitive, but this is the thinking man's aggression - a double edged sword which can be used for change or destruction. And in this film, it's both."

People listened up until about the last line and then yelled out in a sophomoric grunt: "But Resevoir Dogs fucken Rocks man!"

Perhaps that is why La Haine never really "took off" in America. People were wrapped up in the sexualization, the glamourization of killing and maiming people. Power equals sex appeal. Sex appeal equals power. And Resevoir Dogs was all about that - it was an gangster genre regurgitated in an Armani suit and spit back out at the public in technicolor and dolby sound.

European films were always my preference. And this film solidified my belief that despite the US's hatred of the French, les Francais were head and shoulders above the intellectual and spiritual evolutionary ladder of middle America...

I'm too tired to go into all the details right now, because if i didn't edit myself, i could go on for hours, so i will edit...

I was called to be an extra in the movie Gothica and had auditioned for one of the bit parts, but was cast as a mental patient/inmate at a woman's prison. (The irony was not lost on me, and had a hoot telling my friends this story: "they could not have picked a better person to play a mental patient - HELLO!!")

Working with Halle Berry, and Robert Downy Jr (who actually shares my birthday - how geeky of me to know this..) was something i was looking forward to as they are both actors who are beyond talented, but I almost fainted when I found out after the fact that Mathieu was directing it. Working on the same set as him. What in God's name were the chances?!?!

it gets better...

I ran into him at one of the main film production houses before the show began. A complete chance meeting. We walked by each other and smiled - and both looked back at the same time. He must have been wondering why I was dragging my chin on the floor as he approached and then passed me.

I felt as if i was 14 and had just seen one of the Beatles in person, nearly fainting when i got outside of the building.

The first day on the set, (I had just highlighted my hair, making it even more flaming red than it already was) I whispered to all the girls about my meeting and that this quiet and sweet director was perhaps one of the most prolific young european directors of our generation.

And then he walked onto the set.

Nobody knew of this film i was raving about, let alone the director.

He walked past us, a group of 20 women, smiled, and then, i guess he remembered me from our chance meeting a few days before (with my flaming red hair and falling jaw), looked right at me, and said "Hello".

I could hear the gasps behind me, and one of my friends grabbed my arm so hard, i was convinced that she was about to rip it off.

"YOU KNOW HIM!? HOW DO YOU KNOW HIM?!"
20 women began to buzz around me like angry hornets.

I explained my story. They were all star-stuck, but not as much as i was....

Here i was in the presence of a director who changed my views on filmmaking forever and I could not even bring myself to thank him for making that film, let alone tell him how much i admired his work not only as a director, but an actor.

I froze.

And the first shot of the filming, the camera pans past the women in the prison yard. Placing people is key. No matter what you think, every little thing in a shot is there for a reason. Everything.

Every body.

Chatty hens we were, and as they prepped the shot, MK looked over to my direction, talked with his assistant director, who then came up to me and asked me to move to the forefront of the shot. I guess he wanted my flaming red hair to punctuate the scene. (I was in fact, the only red head in the whole movie, oddly enough), so i knew this was not a mistake or whim. Red stands out against a grey background, with everybody in grey, looking grey (literally, we were all made to look pasty and ill).

My knees knocked as he yelled action.

We were on the set for 2 weeks, and not once did I say anything more than "bonjour". How i wanted so desperately to tell him: "thank you for that film. It changed my life. What an honor to be working with you...". I didn't say a peep.

And to top it off, I was rushed to the hospital due to an extreme case of food poisoning hours before the "famous Hale Berry naked in the shower scene". I had been picked to be one of the chosen few women to run around on set without any clothes.

Go figure.

I think had i been given the chance to be naked in front of him and the whole camera/sound crew, it would have been so easy to sit down and talk about anything after that experience. I mean, being naked in public can actually grow you a set of balls, and at that time, so desperately needed...

2010 a few hours ago...
5 years after Gothica was made, i saw La Haine again tonight, 15 years after the first time i saw it at the world film festival's exclusive premiere engagement.

And I have the deepest pangs of regret for not telling him how much i loved that film when i could have, actually had...

Criterion collection has made that film part of their repertoire. Jodie Foster even does a short intro about the film. Everybody knows who he is now, and what the film is.

I think that any praise at this point, would not mean as much as it would have back in 2005 when not even Hollywood knew who he really was, (but at the time of the release of that film, Europe had already been singing his praises) and his film, an obscure cinematic gem was still yet undiscovered here on the other side of the ocean. Yet that film still endures. I just found out that he is working on another film, which i have no doubt, will be true to his vision, and touch people once again.

Deep regret.
I feel so sad that i'm sick to my stomach.

Odd isn't it.
This regretful regret.

Perhaps because I am a filmmaker myself, an artist who lives their work even more passionate than their day to day lives, because i know that knowing that your work has touched somebody's life so deeply is such a deeply humbling experience, and the fact that i missed that window of opportunity while i had more than several wide open spaces to literally, walk right up to him tears me up inside.

J'ai perdu mon courage...

I never got to thank him for inspiring me. For being so brave to take such a bold stance on a subject that was so personal to him. For standing tall in the face of his critics because he believed so unflinchingly in the movie he wanted to make. I never got to say: "your film changed my life...:

That moment is gone forever.

Unless, i can find his agent...

Dare I retell my story at the risk of sounding like a complete geekazoid?

I don't know, but something is telling me: "what's the worst that can happen? it's not like he even lives in my country that I will ever see him again..." and that: "hey, he might actually appreciate your sincere gesture of appreciation."

I dunno

but i do know that my time on this planet is short, and that going for 3 days without more than 4 hours of sleep is making me a bit manic, and there are times when i was manic and did things that i regretted, but life experience and battle scars have made me a little more savvy and attuned to my intuition when it nudges me. I don't want to live a life of regrets any more.

I've made a promise to myself.
Stay true to your hopes, dreams, and live life to the fullest.
Take chances. Take as many as you can.

Will work on an email, polish it up, sound uber intelligent and coherent, and then take a breath, take a chance, and press "Send" to Mr. Mathieu one day soon.

ocd for u and me

2010-09-15T01:03:00.001-04:00

Saw a doc today.
out of the university - will be part of a study program.
psychiatrists in training.

Doctor: "I run a tight ship. Everybody goes through rigorous training, and all meetings are reviewed with the supervisors who then give their notes on the following meetings with you. Don't worry. You will be getting the help that you need..."

She was so very nice.
i felt like she really understood me.

"I know this can't be easy, it impacts your life, keeps you from moving forward. We will be here to help you, help you find answers..."

They had a bipolar expert, PhD, MD on staff, but he is on sabbatical.
"But that's alright. We will find you a match - as close to perfect as we can..."

Huge sigh of relief.

I was on a waiting list since March 2010 for one other hospital.
"We will call you in July for an appointment for an assessment"

September rolls around. I call.
"It won't be before the end of October, but that does not guarantee you will get into the CBT clinic. Just so you know..."

Thank you. Not...

So at the other end of the city, my weekly commute will take almost an hour, but if i can be seen by somebody who cares, and perhaps, out of my misery and fucked up state of mind, will be able to care for somebody else who they will come across in their future practice who will have an equally fucked up state of mind, then all of this is a blessing.

Last night - restless. Bed bugs in my brain. Syphoning the logic out of every logical though, so that all was left was a infected irrational thought, poisoned, and throbbing, infected and disgusting.

Today, the sun alternating with the grey clouds kept me on my toes. Will it rain? Shall I dash for cover?
Oh, nope. The sun is coming out again.
Run into the light, bask in the warmth.

Walking out of the old world campus, tall turn of the century buildings standing like wise old professors over this young new pupil, head filled with glorious and grandiose ideas, silently guiding her along the path of self discovery and enlightenment.

***

I have my first swim lesson 2mrw.
Not so much a lesson as a perfection of techniques.
Want to feel efficient in the water again - a time when my strokes were effortless, poetic and fluid.

Looking forward to finding my equilibrium again, in the water and on land as well...

tail end of a dream

2010-09-09T12:28:00.002-04:00

I was in my house, but the whole layout was reversed.
I was preparing to receive people but was not looking forward to it. Worried that doors to my rooms would be open, things moved, private things examined.

I had to take the cats and put them in one of the rooms as well. Those poor things get so stressed out. Kineko pulls at the fur on his paw (they now look like two tree stumps) and Zoe, well she just gets miserable, sulks and hides.

The way to get their attention effortlessly is to open a can of cat food. No matter where they are, they will come running. And that's what I did. The can was smaller than normal, and the food, chunky and brown, looking almost like beef stew. Or was it really?

I picked up the dome litter box and was distraught because clumps of shit and pee that were hanging off the sides flew like frisbees across the room. My room.
Scavenger hunt later.

I heard chanting, a communal rumble. Outside was a sea of people, as far as the eye could see. Standing beneath my balcony who were all attending some political party rally. Would ALL these people be walking through my house as it had now been designated as "a refueling stop"?!

The organizer, a very tall svelte man in his 30's was at the craft table, making some coffee, orchestrating commands to people across the room. Worker bees hovering over mindless details.

"are all those people coming into my house?"
"is that a problem?"
"what the hell do you think?!"
"they will be respectful. I'll make sure of it. Just put a piece of paper with an 'x' on it so that they will no not to enter".

as if that's going to stop them...

So as I furiously x-ed pages and pages of blank paper, tacking them on the wall with a ream of scotch tape, the sea began to seep into my hallway.
"I can't just leave here, so I think i'll hire somebody to watch the doors. A full time security guard".

And as the air became more and more congested with sweaty bodies and noise, i felt weak and helpless. My house was being invaded by a heard of human elephants and all I could do was curl up into a ball, play dead and hope I would not get trampled to death...

summer camp

2010-09-07T14:38:00.001-04:00

omg.
what an absolutely disturbing dream...

admits the serenity and lush greenery of the country side, a property over looking a pristine lake was a prison. A mental spiritual prison that had my mother and I locked into a lost without a key.

From what I can remember (the feeling of dread, anguish, fear are still with me), mom and I were on this retreat. Oh the summer smell of dewy grass and high noon light filtering gracefully through the high branches and leaves, bathing everything in a subdued green haze.

It looked like a company pic nic - people walking around in groups, talking, laughing, wandering the grounds. I wanted to swim, so desperately. The water was calling me. Clear, calm - serenity personified. But I was locked into doing something else. And besides, nobody was swimming and I didn't want to stick out. The new guest who has absolute disregard for new guest etiquette.

I was to meet mom in a cabin - mess hall. Built entirely of stripped wood logs, the pine smell filled the whole room. Moist and almost sweet, i felt as if i had walked into the womb of spring. People sat around in chairs. A semi circle, 15 at most.

Three officiators were at the front of the room, with microphones, nonchalantly scanning their group. I found a chair in the back of the room and tried to blend into the walls.

"miss, over there in the back, please come up here..."

ouf

slowly and deliberately i moved, looking down at my feet, counting the steps. At the end of a row filled with faces frozen with overly zealous smiles, and glazed eyes, i took my place.

There was some kind of ceremony. The only thing I could equate it to was a cross between a town hall meeting and a quaker ceremony. At one point, i was called up to the front of the room and asked to stand next to a young woman in a long petticoat. Hair pulled back tightly in a bun, the tips of her scuffed brown shoes peeping out from underneath the soiled hem of her dress, she was silent and sweaty. I could feel her perspiring thin forearm against mine.

the undead, clammy and cold in the country on a sunny summer day
what fun...

Something happened and she began to wilt. The officiant began to ramble on - a deflated rap parable of Jesus and life everlasting. Her shoulders twitched, her head slumped forward. A life sized raggedy ann doll entering into a seizure next to me. What the fuck was that all about?!

She leaned on my shoulder hard. More moist grossness on my shoulder now. The person with the microphone shouted: "Hold her up! Put your arm around her!"
And so i did, hesitating. She also smelled of cold urine and salt. I turned my head into the other direction to take in the pine aroma around me.

She collapsed into a crumpled cotton heap at my feet. I leaned down next to her, cradled her head. It seemed as if she was having a seizure.
"Yes! Yes! That is what you do - hold her head!"

people in the audience began to stir, mumble, chant.

After a few seconds, everything went quiet.
The young woman woke up, and allowed me to pull her up to her feet. She smiled and hobbled back to her chair. Without hesitation, i turned to walk to mine.

At some point, i was looking for mom. We had kept on crossing paths, motioning to each other in the distance, over the heads of men and woman too pleased to be there. Signaling in a language only a mother and daughter understand.

Dusk came. It was time for dinner.

My feeling of dread and apprehension grew exponentially. What was this place?
I could not help but think back to the Jonestown massacre. I was young enough to understand what it was about. Young enough to understand what those piles of corpses in the jungle meant and why it happened. Trade a jungle for the green mountains and there we were. Fear turned into near paralysis, but I knew I had to find mom and get out.

Dinner looked eerily similar to the quaker meeting, except everybody sat at round tables. Looked like a wedding of sorts. A banquet.

The last supper...

In the food line, silver trays steamed with fresh vegetables and bernaise covered salmon and meaty lasagna. I skipped the main course and went for the carrots and beans. Mom managed to cut into the line behind me.

"we have to get out of here. it's a cult. Look over there. The big punch bowl",
and there it was. Purple cool aid. But everybody looked so peaceful, plates filled with food. Would they off themselves just before a good meal?

That would just be too sad...

"they won't do it now, there are too many new people here. They have to hook us in first, then they do it..."

Dinner dissolved into nightfall. It would be a difficult task, to pack all our bags and nonchalantly walk down to the car. But we had help. Others who could not, for whatever reason, leave. Somebody had sedated the cats. Someone else had packed food for us. All of it, waiting in the big black mercedes. (a really nice car i may add - light blue interior. A/C, GPS.) As we scouted the land, heard some people's voices over the bend, we slipped into the vehicle, slipped it into neutral and was pushed off by two men all dressed in black. Coasting past the gates, I could not help but think of what a waste that lake front property was and how I could have really enjoyed the time away.

Through the mountains - 4am. the sky began to change from indigo to a deep water blue. We would have to hit the border before sunrise. Less people, more chances of crossing over unnoticed.

I worried that the cats would become dehydrated after such a long trip. They slept, or were semi conscious. My heart ached for their plight. Dragged along with no say of their own into another place, world that was unfamiliar to them. But soon they would be home. We would all be....

at the border crossing, a single window in what looked like a small gaz station.
5am. The blue was changing again. Would not be long before we would be bathed in sunlight. Even in a black car, we could easily be identified.

Mom rolled down the window. The border window lifted up.
"Mary sent us."
pause
"thank you, go ahead, and welcome home."
The uniformed woman looked tired but releived, as if she had been saved from something. Perhaps she was releived because she had saved us from something...

I woke up, distraught and in a panic. My muscles began to betray me. The ache was brutal. Perhaps this was translated into my dream as helplessness. Inability to move away from danger. But we did.

I still have this uneasy feeling, as if something is wrong. Some ticking time bomb is about to detonate. The other shoe is about to drop. Kool-aid about to be stirred.

Perhaps it's just this shit medication fucking with my neurons. If it can paralyze my body, God knows what it's doing to my mind...

making it worse before it gets better

2010-09-07T02:13:00.003-04:00

I once had a boss who was the epitome of a douchebag.
Seriously.

The day he decided to make my life a living hell was the day that the head surgeon/chair of the department joked to him while I was taking pictures at a 'chi-chi" event.

"Mark, you better be careful or this young lady is going to take your job soon!"

ha ha ha ha

laughs all around.

But it was true. Or could have been.
I worked the room like a smooth ass teflon Don politician. Everybody liked my unobtrusive yet charmingly quirky demeanor. Everybody wanted me to take their picture. The night was a huge success. The head surgeon/chair came up to me near the end of the event: "it is a pleasure to have you working with us."

well, that didn't last long...

Shitforbrains flipped and began to panic because the big cheese was on my side. Loved me and said hi every time he came into our office. Turdo didn't even get so much as a mumble.

And he hated me for it.
Or shall i say abhorred me for it.

He sabotaged me in every way he could. Tried to break me every way he could.
I just had an operation that left me weak and ill, and he used that to his advantage.
I broke and he fired me. Just one day shy of being unionized.

I should have known that it was coming down the pipeline.
"It's only gonna get worse..." was his sick and fucked up mantra.

No wonder he was a miserable fat sloth moron.

But I digress from venting...

It's only gonna get worse ...

I find myself saying this right now as i try to march stoically through these horrendous side effects of my GERD medication.

I tried to explain to my gastro doc that I felt like i had been run over by a buss. That i was putting on weight like a rowboat in a monsoon. That i was becoming moody and manic.

"well, i've never heard of those side effects before"
(ergo - they don't exist)

But now thanks to the internet, more and more people are chiming in about the wonderful world of heavy duty meds and the delightful cornucopia of pleasantries that twist your insides and outsides into a wet noodle.

(taken from Wikepedia: Thomas A. Scully, head of the Federal Centers for Medicare and Medicaid services also criticized AstraZeneca for their aggressive marketing of Nexium. At a conference of the American Medical Association he went so far as to suggest that Astra was using the new drug to overcharge consumers and insurance companies. "You should be embarrassed if you prescribe Nexium," he claimed, "because you're screwing your patients and you're screwing the taxpayers.")

GERD can be a serious thing. I was rumored to have Barrette's esophagus, which is one step away from esophageal cancer, but a biopsy showed that the tissue was not diseased, but was told that I would have to go in every 6-8 months for a gastroscopy to make sure. Getting a tube/camera shoved down your throat is not a fun experience. I would rather have 10 colonoscopies to one gastroscopy. Yes, that many. Being awake for both, the sensation of having your throat and thorax scraped with a toilet bowl brush over and over again is not my idea of a good time.

It's ironic - i never was a smoker, or a drinker, yet I have what most smokers and drinkers suffer from. Oh if i were only able to say that i had and once enjoyed those vices, perhaps the intestinal prodding would seem more tolerable. Perhaps it's all made worse by the fact that I have a Hiatus hernia...

It's only gonna get worse ...

These pills - nasty pills. Have caused my fybromalgia to flare up in a serious way. I have to actually walk with a cane. Standing causes me to help in pain with each step, sitting is tantamount to sucking my skin and muscles into the floor with an industrial vacuum cleaner. And sleep? Well, I'll have none of that. The brain is mostly made of water, but is also a muscle, and with fybromyalgia, all muscles hurt, a lot. Including my brain.

It also triggers my bipolar.
Not a pretty sight considering I am already fighting that on a regular basis.

No more sunny days, no more walking with flip flops, letting the warm weather wrap me in its arms like a bright candy colored flannel blanket.

Fall - cold, damp, grey.
All my enemies for so many reasons.

I had an alternative, but that is even more scary than what i'm on now.

I had taken it once before, and had to get off after the third dose. My doctors thought i was crazy. Well, this crazy lady now has back up.

Astra zeneca has now packaged a long list of troubling side effects, preceded by the warning: Consult your doctor if these conditions occur or become worse.

Well, all the ones I had once tried to explain were all there in mauve and white.

Pretty packaging, not so pretty side effects.

It's only gonna get worse ...

I can hear people saying: "at least you don't have to go through chemo!"
Well, if this condition worsens, i may just have to...

But yes, it is gonna get worse before it gets better, and i have to take this bitter pill, my medicine, but why does something that is supposed to heal you make you more sick than what you started with?

Isn't that backwards?
Oh modern medicine, why must you be such a motherfucker?

today's dream log

2010-09-05T14:43:00.002-04:00

dream

water

i was swimming. Learning to improve my strokes.
Hotel swimming pool. More rectangular than long. At dusk.
The glow of the lights in the water - turquoise.
Glass walls - rooftop terrace now closed. City skyline becomes alive.
Few people, mostly milling about. Languid in lounge chairs.

An instructor, svelt man, middle aged, comes into the pool to show me how to improve my strokes. Turns on the wave machine. I begin to swim. Each movement, poetic, graceful. Underwater ballet. He stops me, shows me, i begin again.

The movement propelling me forward is counteracted by the waves, bubbles, noise.
I pick up speed, and the waves get stronger, the bubbles bigger and the noise - louder.

Now it all seems so effortless. My body glides, hands slice the water like cleavers. Blade through flesh. Silent. No spash. No sound.

Flash. it's morning and we are now entering the sauna. Tilled cubicle. Standing room only. Five of us walk in. It's dark except for the ambient light. Steam streams through the walls. Eucalyptus fills our nostrils. Mentholated brush into the sinuses. General malaise. I say: "it's good for you. Now we sit and sweat."

After a few seconds, people tire and become anxious.
"Now we cold dip." pointing to the garden hose attached to the wall. I pick it up and lift it to my head.
"Are you crazy?"
"that's too cold!!"

"It closes your pores, gets your heart rate going. It's good for you."

But nobody listens. They slide out of the stall, aimless and sweaty. I stay behind, enjoying the whole aquatic experience.

House

E and I had bought a house. Condo actually. Model home. Fully equipped, furnished. Showroom ready to go. It was dark, pale moss green everywhere. Into the post-modern domestic forest. Everything was set. Tv was on. Welcoming din.

I began to get anxious. Nervous. Something was wrong. Trapped, suffocated I began to rant. Question. Weariness covered me like a veil.
"There are no windows!! How could you have said yes to a place that had no windows!!"

"it's not that big of a deal."
"what the hell do you mean!? Of course it is! I can't breathe! I can't see out! There is no natural sunlight!"
"why do you need light?"

Picking up a paint chip, blush pink, I waved it into his face.
"why can't we paint this place another color!? Why all this green? "
"you want to paint it? no problem. I can do that. Just give me the paint."
"but we can't live here while we paint!"
"why not?"
"THERE ARE NO WINDOWS TO OPEN!"
"so, what's your point?"

desperate, dejected and furious, i ran out of the house, into the street. Into the light, into the fresh air.

House - part 2

Now we are in an actual house. I'm on the other side of the front door, watching myself walk in with the agent. Cathedral ceilings, ruched curtains protecting the interior from sun. Two level, winding staircase, kitchen with marble island, open concept. Stainless steel appliances. Clean. Hyper clean.

This is my house, yet it is not my house.
I own it but don't live in it.

I make my way to the kitchen, and begin to cook. Taking out the spices, putting them in alphabetical order. E is there, but distant. Observing but not attentive.
I am despondent, why does he not help me?

The doorbell rings. We were not expecting company?

Open the door and a flood of people fill our hallway, making their way into the kitchen. The nexus of this industrial universe. So many people.

"why don't you help me?!!"

E walks away. JM walks behind him, turning to me: "he's not interesting in helping anymore. You have asked him for enough help. He needs to rest. He is fed up. Go on doing what you have to do. He's done with this. This marriage. This everything."

I am crushed. Mentally raped. Physically ruined.

More people, more noise, more scrutiny. My body goes numb. It's a miracle I'm standing.

I too become part of the model home. A fixture. Fleshy furniture. Bees buzzing around me, examining the countertops, the microwave, the fridge. Doors open, plates shifting, floor squeaking under the weight of these bodies make the floor squeak.

Everything is filthy, at least to my standards. I scurry behind, a gypsy child, picking up crumbs, wiping away residue, making everything sparkling clean.

I open the back door and they all fill into the outside yard. Good riddance. Goodbye. I close the door. The remaining people trickle away from the center of the industrial homemaker's universe.

There is a group of Indian women, diligently examining the spice rack.
"it's important to have all the spices in order to keep your kitchen harmonious".

Brown nimble fingers delicately pull apart the angel hairs of red saffron and place them onto the marble countertop.

"this should do it. This should fix everything now..."

A letter to a friend

2010-08-31T16:22:00.010-04:00

a letter to a photographer friend today - a reply to his message after seeing my film
Clair Obscure.

I was surprised by what gushed forth
sometimes I surprise myself, in a good way :-)

Oh Dave,

you have no idea how much your message has touched me. So many emotions. I don't know where to begin...

first, I'll start from the end...

Interesting you picked up on the whole doc/60's-70's feel. I guess my religious viewing of films such as shock corridor (Sam Fuller), Titicut Follies (Frederick Wiseman), 2001 (Kubrick), A woman under the influence (Cassavettes) and of course, One Flew over the cuckoo's nest (Forman) and Let there be light (Huston). Film has been a huge part of my life. When my parents divorced, i was 11, and my weekly father's visits consisted of dinner @ Wendy's or McDonalds followed by a movie. That's all we did. That was his way of connecting. After watching a film, we'd go for ice cream and have our own "At the movies" critique session. You can imagine how interesting they were when we saw 2001 a Space Odyssey and Apocalypse Now (he snuck me into that one. Opening week - crazy insanity. He literally snuck me underneath his coat!!)

And when I did film production @ university, we were old school. 1990. Cutting film was an organic experience. Almost spiritual.

manic depression is often a ticking time bomb, present in the family tree and detonated during or after a traumatic event - my detonation was my parent's split. After that. puberty wreaked havoc until I was 19. That's when I had my full blown breakdown. It was ugly. It is truly a miracle I lived to tell the tale. I should have been dead by now, more than half a dozen times over...

After almost a year of being shuttled from emergency room to another, I was helped by a doctor who was starting a crisis clinic at one of the hospitals. She was a pioneer in her field and research into bipolar. It was the light at the end of the tunnel, but little did I know, the tunnel would be filled with sewage, rot and stigma. (funny enough - while I'm writing this, I just realized that the whole scene in the tunnel might have been a subconscious link to that...)

I was hospitalized for a week and then a day patient for a month. The big mental hospital is actually an old mansion on the mountain. Ornate, yet now devoid of all its glamour, it was a hollow shell of a once grandiose existence - so much like the life of a person with bipolar - after the crash...

I knew I was not 'crazy/over the edge" as some of the people there were, but i was not far from it. I had actually looked into the abyss. Stood on the precipice of no return. It was a welcome end to an existence filled with pain, confusion and relentless chaos. That ledge was so narrow. Despite my new 'medicated lithium state", it was terrifying to actually know that i was so close to jumping into an alternate reality because mine had become a living hell. The woman who sat in the waiting room, in the buss, arranging her groceries, watching out the window as the world passed her by, letting the wind blow through her hair. That could have been me. In that waiting room, in that other world...

what brought me back, i still don't know. But to this day, I am forever thankful that by some divine intervention, i returned. Perhaps it was the will to live, my higher reptilian brain telling me to push through. Or perhaps it was my old soul telling me it was my gift to be able to share this experience with the world. That my suffering was indeed necessary to be able to coherently explain life "on the other side" and to give others hope, and others insight into an existence that is nothing short of hell on earth...

Your relationship with your ex-girlfriend - bless your heart. We all need somebody as understanding and loving as you are to her. You are insightful and kind to realize that bipolar is something bigger than we are. It is bigger than our logical mind. It is our emotional mind on crack. It's the vortex of fear and isolation, of gravity and pain twisted around synapses that fire furiously, out of control, without a plan. Rabid. Paralyzing. What we say and do during our mixed states is not of our own consciousness. It is the muddled kaleidoscope of isolation, broken dreams and terror.

And ADD, I suffer from that too, albeit a mild version but I know all too well how that can turn a normal task into a labyrinth of confusion and complication. Mine runs into elliptical and illogical ruminations about death, paranoia and other worst case scenarios. Sometimes, I can't even step out of the house because I'm afraid that the earth will open up and swallow me whole, or that I will spontaneously combust. My mind checks over the details like a mega processor, but the computations never add up but information spews forth at random, adding to the confusion and chaos in my brain.

Dysthymic Disorder - that languid melancholy, worn like a wet overcoat. How it turns the most beautiful sunset into a realization that another day has passed and life is that much shorter. How the excitement of a new day is filtered through the density of apprehension that what we didn't do yesterday is yet another reason to put off what we could have done to what we should do, but then as the sunset begins, we get lost in an endless cycle of regret and what seems like idyllic hope. I really hope that you are able to manage those episodes. That you have found a medication to ease the pain. I have found that CBT (cognitive behavioral therapy has helped me a lot), but as with all ways of seeing and learning, it takes practice. The key is to stay positive and focused. Which for people like us, is nothing short of a hurdle in itself. Having friends who understand and believe in you are key.

But I think the worst part is dealing with the people who think "it's all in your head". Yes. It is. But despite that when they say : "just snap out of it" - mental illness is a chemical imbalance. The brain is a complex system of nerve tissue, fibers, neurons, dendrites and synapses - all working together or against each other. Even in the 21st century, science is still in the initial stages of comprehension and unraveling the mystery that is the human mind. I have had to deal with people who say: "just get a grip on life", "everybody has problems", "it's all in how you deal with it" or the best one: "buck up and face your problems like a man/woman". It is my hope that one day, people who are these ignorant naysayers live one life in the mind of somebody who suffers as we have. I have no doubt that they would quickly change their mind and opinion, but until then, I try with my photography and films to drive the point home.

Did you see my "blue series" on flickr? I have a bunch of other "self portraits" that try to illustrate life on the other side of sanity. With each shutter click, i hope that one day I will get closer to being more cohesive, better at expressing my experiences. It's important that people know and understand. Ignorance breeds contempt and hatred. Our world is filled with enough of that.
People who suffer by no will of their own need a fucken break.

All my life i've had to deal with people labeling me a "weird/off/strange/psychotic/wacky". A good friend of mine from high school with whom i recently reconnected with said that people often came to her and asked: "why are you friends with her? She's pretty messed up." But she stuck through, believed in me and said - 'that's why she's so special. And that's why she's my friend." If only i had that kind of unconditional acceptance from my friends and family.

After a nasty court settlement when i turned 20, my mother, father and both lawyers on both sides sat in our lawyer's office and when asked if we had any last words, I looked at him and pulled out a piece of paper.

"dad, you think that this is all in my head - this depression. this mania. my suffering. Here is a list of doctors that will tell you that I am in fact suffering from bipolar disorder. That it is real. I encourage you to get in touch with them and talk to them yourself."

without looking at me, he packed up his briefcase, took the paper, folded it into a tiny square and shoved it in his pocket.

"Well, if I were to ask the doctors when all my problems started, they would say that it all started when you were born."

And with that, he left the room. His lawyer, my lawyer and mother all stood there, silent and shocked. His lawyer apologized profusely. So did our lawyer. So did my mom. It was something I would have to get used to.

How ironic is it that to this day, my dad, even though he has seen my film, still does not believe that what i suffer from is a legitimate and medical condition.

It is still something I am getting used to. But if my film can touch one person, then all of this will have been worth it.

And your message has made me smile.

I'm so happy that it touched your life. That means everything to me.

Please stay well Dave, and i have faith that one day, we will be able to share our stories on the battle field. We have come through the difficult task of survival, overcoming the stigma, and through that, will inspire others.

hpk

2010-08-22T23:22:00.001-04:00

Last night was grand.
Simply sublime.

An urban cowboy friend of a friend hosted a house party.
Out in the stix, but it was well worth the hike.

and turns out, that being there, making the effort, spoke volumes in terms of letting it be known that we did take the time out of our day to come and be a part of the celebration.

Some people who said they would show up apparently had their reasons.
Apparently.

But that night was filled with new connections and forging of new creative endeavors.

Sis and Bobby were there - always soulful friendship connections.

And the new individuals that we met - priceless.

I told E on the way home:
meeting people like this, engaging in intelligent conversation, honest and heartfelt laughter is what makes the world go around, at least my world. It's my lifeline - people like this - real people. I have less and less time for the riff raff, people who are more interested in looking into their own reflection, or look for their own reflection in others. They are all fucken shallow and waste my time. Time to purge and cleanse. After this weekend, I have seen enough of people who care only about themselves. Enough is enough. I've stopped giving away my time. You need it - you earn it. You can have all your fluffy vapid self centered friends. Just don't bring them to our house. I don't want that energy to taint ours.

FB - status.
People are too busy collecting fucken farm animals to take a nano-second to even give "like/thumbs up" notification. Whatever.
So noted.
In my books.

But as sis and I convened - there is a lot happening and a lot going to happen in the next little while. How interesting that this was my horoscope from Daily Om...

August 22, 2010
Connected by Support
Aries Daily Horoscope

The encouragement you receive from friends about your projects could make you feel surrounded by an unlimited amount of support today. Just knowing that others care about you and your work might help you see that the things you do have value and meaning not only for yourself, but also for others. Even though this validation from other people might be meaningful for you, perhaps today you can think about how much worth your work has for your soul. Going back to a completed project, taking a deep breath, and looking upon your work with new eyes could make it easier for you to recognize just how much your projects impact you. Finding support in yourself, you may find, is just as important as seeking it from other people.

When we are able to feel pleased about our work, the support we receive from others is wonderful and precious but is not the only thing that sustains our efforts. So often we can get lost in wanting others to approve of what we do and praise us for a job well done. When we learn to do that for ourselves, however, any encouragement that others give us is something that we can cherish. Through our efforts we are able to strengthen our level of connection, trust, and respect for each other. By seeing the support you get as something that binds you to others, you will be able to appreciate what you receive through an entirely new perspective today.

Moving in the right direction...

2010-08-21T14:18:00.006-04:00

Moving in the right direction.
That is the ultimate quest...

Life seems to be leading me into a bunch of different directions: film, tv, writing, photography, directing, traveling. I'm one person and despite the allure of all these different avenues, I think i might have to take one and stick with it. At least for now, but remain fluid and open to all the changes that are coming my way.

As always, Daily Om seems to have it bang on. So much wisdom. So much sense...

August 21, 2010
The Right Direction
Aries Daily Horoscope

You might not feel confident that your life purpose is on track which could make you feel uncertain about yourself today. If you can keep in mind that it is natural to question how your life is going, you may find some relief in your doubt. Taking the time to look back on your life – maybe by drawing a timeline on a piece of paper – you might be able to see the connections of your major life transitions more clearly. As you look at the things that have happened to you in the past, you may, for example, notice that not everything appears to be linear – that there have been some twists and turns along your path. Reflecting on these times and assessing what you learned when your life didn’t seem to be heading in the right direction today may help you to realize that these periods of time can actually be some of the most intense growing experiences.

Understanding that the road we follow in our lives does not always follow a straight line allows us to much more readily accept our life course. The times when things don’t seem to go our way can easily convince us that we aren’t doing anything positive in our lives. In actuality, it is these times that will be your best teacher today – for it is only when you are able to transform a situation into a learning experience that you will set out more confidently on a steadier course and truly evolve.

a dead cat and a female fire fighter

2010-08-17T23:16:00.002-04:00

I saw a dead cat yesterday in my back yard.
it broke me into a million pieces.
lying, deep permanent sleep on the ground
It was old and perhaps had lived a full, yet difficult 9th life

saw a female fire fighter today on the street.
I was filled with pride and admiration
confident, as her pony tail, blond locks floated through the air
she was young and surrounded by men who worked in tandem with her.

(I will comment more on the death of a cat, and what my fucken brute of a landlord did. Gawd. I wish I could take this guy's brain and shove it up his ass. It would probably work better that way...)

whaaa??

2010-08-15T21:48:00.003-04:00

I'm always floored when people say they like my art. I mean, people who say they really like my art. Not just because the pictures are pretty, the colors are harmonious, faces are attractive or subject matter is witty. But people who are artists themselves, who use art as a vehicle for communication, expression, living.

A fellow artist reached out to me the other day. Saw my photos on Saatchi Online and wanted to send me an email.

I was checking my messages on Saatchi and saw your thumbnail. So I ventured over to your site and I love what you do. Its some really great stuff and I know what little relief, confirmation, or whatever other reaction that comes from someones mere recognition of your work, but I felt that you at least deserve that. I love the portraits and your film.

Wow.

I mean wow!

I was completely blown away.

And that was only a portion of some of the other messages i received over the past few days...

This was all hot on the heels of a few weeks ago when a publishing house from Jakarta found three of my images online and wanted to put them in their next book of "upcoming and important art". There was a catch - to buy the book was 100$ US (200$ retail), but it was not mandatory to be a part of it. The royalties are bird poop, but to know that this book will be circulating all through Asia is quite an eye opener. Who knows what will happen, who will see my work. The important thing is that it's getting out there. FINALLY. On the wings of a prayer and pixel, things might just be looking up.

I was all about to toss my camera away. Relegate it to the halls of silent sewing machines and miscellanies of cloistered craft kits. The dead zone of artistic endeavors started with good intentions, but now fated to become relics for future generations.

I had one last hope. One last whim as a "photographer" - to submit to a high gloss fashion magazine. "What do I have to lose? No stamps involved in cybermail !"

Well, off it went. And to bed was I to go. But seven minutes after the initial whoosh sound from my outbox, came a delicate "bing!"

Oh, crap. It bounced.
Was my first thought. Now I know that I have to modify my first thoughts from constantly being negative to perhaps being optimistic!

Note to self.
Make a note of this...

WOW!! The first one rocks!!! The second is grand and if we place these, I want to make sure there is a full message. do you have more to look at?? Can't wait!

why, yes, as a matter of fact, I do!

and so off it went, batch # 2, and then 3, and 4.

What did I get back?
Well, the universe rewarded me with this one:

You have such a lovely perspective on your art. I went through your images and there are so many I really loved. I would love to see a mix of some for you to submit if you are down with that. I will go through them and post them and if you are into it, please send images by following the image submission form. I can't believe the talent the body painter has! WOW! HOLY SEEEEEEETTTTT!!!

whaaaaattt!?!??

Really?!!

This magazine kicks serious ass. I mean, really serious ass. It was a submission on a whim. Never even thought i'd get a second look cause the quality is beyond top notch, it's stellar. And me with my little self portraits looking all moody and stuff..

But it was not 10 minutes after this email I got another.

Some other gallery owner personally took the time to email me to notify me of an "art competition i should know about". He, an art collector, was online and found my site. "We look forward to viewing your submissions".

whaaaaattt!?!??

Floored.

It was all i could do to not jump around the house like a child on Christmas morning.

two days after, a new connection with a fellow flickr-er.

I loved her work. It spoke to me, and apparently, mine did to her as well...

You know, i was actually timid about making you a contact.... I thought you'd find my work.. I don't know... overdone of bland...

So for two years, i've followed your work, where i saw it in groups, but never felt i should join in the parade of your followers.

I regret that, now *s

Holy sheeeeet.

Was this the universe hammering me in the head - shouting at me: "DON'T DO IT! KEEP YOUR CAMERA!! KEEP ON GOING!!"

well, whatever it was, is, will be, it's working. And I'm so very thankful of every day that my work travels over millions of miles of network cables, through the air, and into the eyes and minds of those who choose to see.

Thank you universe.

Thank you God.

Thank me.

Thank you :-)

it was good

2010-08-03T16:59:00.001-04:00

I have to recount a dream I had the other night.

very creepy cool but it was good.

I think i have also found my spark again. That longing to make a difference in the world. The knowing that I'm here for a purpose greater than I can ever imagine.

going for some dinner comfort food with mom and hubby. Will be back later.

I seem so lost when I don't write.
My head needs to empty, my soul needs to expand, my fingers need to exercise and follow the words from my head to the keyboard.

it's all good...

my left foot

2010-08-02T23:17:00.001-04:00

Strange days indeed.

it's been so long since my last post, and so much to write.
Where do I begin?

I will start by going backwards.

Tried to ramp up the CBT the other day because i need to preach what I'm practicing...

Spoke to a friend about her crumbling marriage. Telling her to try to keep positive. That there is never rain 365 days a year. That the sun always breaks through the clouds. That for the most part, 98% of the population are not 100% evil, and that her husband has an addiction. Even if that addiction is to his "other woman" who he can't stop texting for even a moment.

While on the phone with me, she and her hubby were texting. There was some funny banter back and fourth and I was privy to the play by play.

"I said something about wanting to fondle his elbow"
(because as per the marriage therapist, they were supposed to work on "touching and reconnecting")

text back - my elbow?
text - i mean your foot. I love how uneven your toes are on your left foot.
text back - it's my right...

"What the hell does that mean? Was that meant for me? Is he texting his friend and thought it was me saying : "it's his right to see his child during a separation" !?"

"Holy crap girl! Your mind is like a rabid monkey spinning around in your head! How can you be sure that is what he is REALLY saying?"

"Well, it must be! I think i should call my lawyer tomorrow..."

"Why don't you just ask him what he means?"

text - what?
text back - it's my right foot...

We both laughed.

"See my dear, it's only about his right foot! See how the mind went into overdrive and began to fill in all the cracks of the rest of the sentence? Attaching meaning to where there was none?!"

And we laughed and laughed. I poked fun at the situation by telling her about the famous intro to the Monty Python film with the big foot coming down and squishing everything. The visual was hysterical. And at the same time - poignant. How the mind will overcompensate for a lack of information by blowing things out of proportion - a huge foot stomping on everything. People, flowers, musical notes.

A gargantuan foot - splayed toes and all...

"my mind is just running around lighting everything on fire. I can't stop it.'

"yes you can, it just takes work; but obsessive tendencies are part of our pedigree. Great grandmother, grandmother, your mother, my mother were all struggling with some form of depression. I'm bipolar. The black sheep crazy of the family, but obsessive/compulsive behavior is a part of that. it's all under the umbrella of mental illness in its varying degrees."

"well, i must be OCD then. I just keep on digging this obsessive grave deeper and deeper until I can't get out and get suffocated by these fucken thoughts."

I tried to explain my techniques: listing all the thoughts, the % of how much i believe each thought, exaggerate the worst case scenario and how much I believe that, what i know to be true, the grade of anxiety from 1-10 (at the beginning and at the end of the exercise). I extolled the virtues of finding my "touchstones" - things that make me happy and shift my thinking just by doing/watching/listening.

We were both impressed with my logic and clarity.
I'm proud that I have some of those moments sometimes.

After four and a half hours of Wayne Dyer-izing, CBT-ating and Zen-atilitaing, she was calm and at peace, and happily, so was I.

Today changed that mood.

An email: the whole time he was texting me, he was texting her! NOW WHAT DO I DO?!?!

What do you do? What can be told to someone who is living with and loving a person that has an obsessive compulsion?

I feel horrible for having given sound advice.
I feel like a flake, fake, and bullshitter for having believed my own advice. For allowing myself to try to "think well".

And as I type this, I can hear the monkey in my mind getting restless. Sharp utensils are within its reach. The once peaceful room is getting cluttered with negative images, words and scenarios. How do I tame this beast?

Scratch its belly. Keep it happy.

I try to smile, underneath my skin pulled taut over muscle twitching confusion...

me in space...

2010-07-31T12:28:00.001-04:00

look out universe, here I come...

this is what happens when you are drunk and have friends who are comedians with a video camera...

2010-07-20T13:44:00.001-04:00

this is simply brilliant.

I can't stop laughing.

It's nothing short of evil and brilliant.
Even MORE brilliant than the think i quoted in the last post...

Funny or Die. Will Ferrell, you rock my world...

from a friend

2010-07-13T20:54:00.001-04:00

a fellow flickr friend is in crisis.
And I know this crisis well, as i seem to be in the same mode these days.

and it's not easy.

I equate it to a complete existential meltdown. Nothing makes any sense anymore. There are no rights or wrongs, only maybes and I don't know for sures.

cavedweller

I've stopped seeing myself, or being able to see myself. Making self portraits when you can't see yourself is very hard I find. The last time I really had a full mental picture of myself was a few years ago and I didn't want to look.

When I'm between work and projects and have nothing I'm focusing my efforts on or planning, I feel adrift and panicky. I've barely been out of the house in weeks except to go food shopping, hit the post office, catch a movie and get a hair cut, avoiding the heat and conserving resources until the next thing comes....

and of course...

2010-07-12T14:15:00.004-04:00

got back yesterday from a week of camping. Miss it already - the smell of trees in the morning, marshmallow roasting, mosquito swatting, refreshing lake swimming - pure sublime Vermont mountain chill...

a letter to a friend about a dream I had...

2010-07-12T14:06:00.002-04:00

This dream, it started off weird. I was in the ocean - my mom was warning me about going out too far - that I would surely drown, but i went farther anyway.

The sea was turquoise. Tropical blue. Cuba blue I call it. I was so buoyant, the buoyancy became almost a meditative state. I floated past a hanging tomato plant (saw one on tv the night before...) in the middle of nowhere. The vines were filled with these beautiful succulent tomatoes. Next to it floated a man - who told me I could eat one. (garden of eden perhaps??) and i did. It was not as sweet as I had hoped, but more meaty. He said something that I wish I could have remembered because it seemed to be some sort of life lesson thingy, but he did give me a blessing to go across the ocean.

And so I did.

Looking into the horizon, it soon began to morph into a cityscape, and at the foot of that cityscape, a beach with people bathing, enjoying the heat. I swam faster in anticipation. The depths were varying in degrees. Spots that should have been at least 100 feet, were only 2, and others vice versa. I could not make sense of the discrepancies, but was not scared anymore. Regardless of depth, the other side was visible. There was no longer an "ocean between us"...

I walked onto the beach - literally, another sea of people. Side by side, back to back. A sandy metropolis of chairs, oiled bodies and chatter. The sidewalk seemed so close, the skyscrapers leaning over the people. I walked to the bustling streets, looking for a phone.

I was carrying something, i don't remember what, but it was perishable and needed to be protected from the elements. I asked a street vendor to hold it for me, but refused. After that, it quickly became night so I entered a coffee shop/pastry boutique, white haired ladies buzzed behind the counter.

I leaned over and spoke in french to a sweet old woman who was also from my city and took pity on my situation, and gladly said she would hold onto my "package" until I came back from my meeting with you. I was releived.

I walked outside - and it seemed to be a mix of what i imagined LA to be (from what i see on tv LOL) and new york. Metropolitan hustle and bustle. I walked to a pay phone and become despondent that I had forgotten your number at home and began to panic.

Reaching to pick up the telephone book, i saw a photo of you - smiling, and holding your camera, looking up to a tall building. It was on the bottom part of a phone - sometimes a space used for giving useful information on emergency numbers, how to dial international numbers etc. I could not believe it! What were the chances!! I called the operator, explained my situation to her and told her who you were (and that you were on the phone box) and she immediately connected me to you, and as if by magic, you appeared!!

Oh we were so happy to see each-other! We jumped and hugged like two 50's school girls who had just scored tickets to see the Beatles. "we have so much to catch up on - so much to do!!" you said, as you led me by the hand into the heart of the city. I looked behind me and saw the ocean again - both sides of it - the new and old shore, both there, open, waiting for me to return, wishing me well on my new journey...

Oh my dear friend. I know that we have more journeys to take together, so many lessons to learn and teach each other and so many photographs to take. it's all a beginning, and perhaps is something that will never end. Some people I have met in my life I know I will meet again - soul travelers i call them. Please stay well. I know that life is difficult for you now, filled with melancholy and uncertainty, as is mine too, but as long as we can see both sides of the shore, we know that floating in the middle of the ocean is never a finite thing :-)

every so often...

2010-07-10T00:28:00.000-04:00

every so often, i find a site that moves me.
this is one of them...

Your screenplay sucks....

Fucken brilliant...

Free will Indeed...

2010-07-05T17:27:00.001-04:00

I love this man. He is not some hokey pokey esoteric star gazer - he's really got some sense about him during a time when many lack any sense at all.

This caught my eye - in the light of the personal, emotional, physical and psychological changes I'm going thorough, many seem to stem from paranoia and letting my monkey mind go, quite literally, ape shit.

Don't ask me about all the hype around 2012. I get the shivers just thinking about it. But this article came at the perfect time.

Thank you Rob. A bright voice in an otherwise cloudily dark world...

Visionaries and prophets expect there to be a huge and sudden shift in the world's story sometime soon. Whether it happens on December 21, 2012 or a later date, a sizable proportion of them even predict that it will be "in the twinkling of an eye" -- a sudden cascade of events that completely changes everything everywhere.

Some paint the scenario in broad, catastrophic strokes, expecting something -- they're not sure what -- that will have the impact of a large meteor strike or nuclear war or pandemic disease. Others harbor a more benign but equally fuzzy expectation, speculating that maybe some higher psychic powers will kick in to the multitudes all at once, or that benevolent extraterrestrials will arrive to solve our energy crisis.

What very few of the prophets do, however, is make a precise prediction about exactly will happen. Their visions contain no assurances, no specifics. And in my view, that's worse than useless. It fills us with a vague buzz of fear or amorphous sense of hope, but offers no concrete directions about what to do to prevent the dreaded thing or help create the hoped-for thing.

And the fact is, as I see it, they can't possibly know what the Big Shift is -- if, that is, a Big Shift is really looming. The very nature of any Big Shift will be so unexpected, so beyond our imaginations, and so utterly alien to what we understand, that we can't possibly delineate its contours in advance.

I'm reminded of Jung's formula, which is that we don't so much solve our problems as we outgrow them. We add capacities and experiences that eventually make us bigger than the problems.

This theory can be applied in reverse: If we have not yet grown wiser than our current predicament, then we can't see what the evolved state is beyond the predicament. Our minds are as-yet incapable of embodying the vision that will catapult us beyond the problem we're stuck in.

When the Big Shift comes, whether or not it comes in the twinkling of an eye, it will be something that no one foresaw, let alone described in detail. It will be beyond our comprehension, unlike anything we could have visualized headed our way. (Thirty years ago, did anyone imagine the Internet or the impact it's having?)

And if that's true, then the inescapable conclusion is: There's no use trying to plan ahead for it. It's counterproductive to hold a particular scenario in our mind as the likely development. And it's downright crazy to harbor a chronic sense of dread about an unknowable, unimaginable series of events.

The best way to prepare for a Big Shift is to cultivate mental and emotional states that ripen us to be ready for anything:

* a commitment to not getting lost inside our own heads;

* a strategy to avoid being enthralled with the hypnotic lure of painful emotions, past events, and worries about the future;

* a trust in empirical evidence over our time-worn beliefs and old habits;

* a talent for turning up our curiosity full blast and tuning in to the raw truth of every moment with our beginner's mind fully engaged;

* and an eagerness to dwell gracefully in the midst of all the interesting questions that tease and teach us.

Everything I just described also happens to be an excellent way to prime yourself for a chronic, low-grade, always-on, simmering-at-low-heat brand of ecstasy -- a state of being more-or-less permanently in the Tao, in the groove, in the zone.

wtf?

2010-06-23T17:58:00.000-04:00

when it rains it pours.

Once again - the cancer word enters my life

barrett's esophagus = "we have to keep an eye on this because it could become cancerous"

You have a hernia.

Seriously.

Kidney stones - "we can't do anything until then - but you need to be aware because the chances are high you might have an attack..."

"and well, there is nothing we can do for your pain."

Thank you very fucken much.

Waited almost two hours to hear this.

my body realignment session was very troubling.
Lots of things going on in my uterus (no, not a baby, but apparently, some deep seated emotional traumas that i had in my childhood) and heart and head.

Too many emotions, too many symptoms, too many things.

Oh back, don't break on me now, because this is just the beginning to the summer of pain, stress, and overall hell...

Happy Anniversary 2 us, and other wonderful things

2010-06-08T01:46:00.003-04:00

unday was our one year anniversary! How time has flown by. Speaking of time flying by, I was a part of a wonderful event - my old high school was open to Alumni from 1977 to 1987. Over 500 people attended. I saw lots of old friends, and even older friends - from grade school! Oh what a blast it was. Danced the night away (my toes are actually numb. I think I pinched a nerve cause my heels were too high to dance in...), and the next day, had a getaway with the hubby down south. Not a big outing, but we got to go to our fave romantic French Bistro and see the sights. We capped it all off by coming home to flowers and a beautiful card from a family friend and mom. And to keep with tradition, ate our giant wedding cupcake which I had taken out of the freezer for that special occasion.

One year, and so much has happened...

And then I get this email which floored me.

Talk about a weekend filled with wonderful moments - each one a precious gift.

Hello

I have a new book out titled: Achieve Anything In Just One Year:

Be Inspired Daily to Live Your Dreams and Accomplish Your Goals.

This is a self improvement, motivational and personal development book

that is designed to be read on a daily basis. One page a day for one year.

Each page starts with an inspirational quote, followed by a discussion of that

day's topic, and ends with a task or an assignment for the reader to follow.

I am looking for Amazon Reviewers such as yourself to review the book.

If you are interested please reply with your mailing address and I will

send you a copy of the book.

Thank-You and Have A Great Day!

Jason Harvey

Author, Entrepreneur, Life Coach

Achieve Anything In Just One Year:

Be Inspired Daily to Live Your Dreams and Accomplish Your Goals

http://AchieveAnythingBook.com

Hello Jason,

I can't believe what amazing timing receiving this email is! I am so deep in a rut with my life, it's not even funny. I have spent days and nights hiding in my apartment, wishing that I could just disappear, and have been looking for a way out for some time now. Being bi-polar, and over the past two years, dealing with both parents battling cancer, along with my own outrageously complicated health issues has completely drained and hopeless. YES! I WOULD LOVE TO READ YOUR BOOK!!

I have already written a few reviews on amazon.com and I know that people have been reading, so it would be my pleasure to write something for you, and as far as what I'm reading as in terms of the reviews of your book on your site - it looks quite amazing!

I truly believe in coincidences, but this one is a gift. I had spent the whole afternoon at Barnes and Nobel (was in the states for the weekend) in the "self help section" scouring titles, hoping for something to "jump out at me" - to give me a lifeline to a life that once held so much promise and hope. (and another coincidence, I had sent away for tourist information about NS and NFLD as I have been wanting to visit that part of the country, enchanted by the beauty of the east coast - and see from your contact info - are from Nova Scotia!)

Thank you for contacting me and I will be eagerly awaiting your book!

wow.

Here is to new beginnings.
Another year - a celebration of all things remembered and hope for the future - a future filled with hope and happiness.

my 2 cents...

2010-06-03T14:28:00.001-04:00

Whenever I can put my 2 cents in to help somebody out, it brings me great pleasure when I now that I've made a difference for them in their lives.

When I was looking online about bounce flash accessories, I know I had to share my story.

I had been struggling with bounce flash issues for some time before I decided to bite the bullet and deviate from the standard "bounce flash accessories", and the fact that this one looked like a space ship did not help the issue, but I'm so very glad I did.

Panda eyes (or raccoon eyes) are a problem when shooting and bouncing a flash. Light bounces on a ceiling for example, and then falls straight down onto the face. The falloff most often seems to be hindered by the brow bone, which in turn, acts as a shade, which then creates a shadow in the eye socket area. Voila - you have instant panda eyes.

I have learned from experience that nobody likes to look like the living dead and no amount of post processing will save a photo that does not have enough detail/information to pull out of it. Sure, you can cheat and add some "catchlights" into the subjects eyes, but that only acts as a band-aid. It won't take away the fact that your "bounced subject victims" will still look like they have been up for 72 hours straight. Quite literally, not a pretty picture.

And then along came Lumiquest Pro Max 80/20 bounce flash device. I decided to go whole hog and get the Lumiquest Promax System (complete with bounce cards, silver, white, gold, diffusion screens etc.) but what worried me was a) the bulk of having all these extra gadgets on my flash (as if a huge flash was not cumbersome and obtrusive enough) and b) the fact that it looked like something out of a science fiction movie. But after seeing the results, I was sold. Hands down, this was one of the best investments I had ever made for my flash photography assignments.

The 80/20 does just that - 80% goes up and gets bounced onto whatever "ceiling" and the 20% then gets deflected onto the face of the subject. And sometimes, 20% is all you need! The result - an overall pleasant glow around the subject, as well as a nice uniform illumination on the face. NO MORE PANDA EYES!!! The colored inserts (along with the white card), give a wonderful extra punch, without the knockout of a bare unit. The diffusion that covers the grid is similar to what a diffusion box would give you. Perfect soft diffused light, just enough to illuminate the face.

I was also very thankful and excited when my futuristic bounce accessory saved the day during a wedding in a church where the ceilings were 200 + feet high. Unless you have a gigantic power pack strobe, there is no way, a regular "bounced flash" will save you. I pulled out my 80/20, attached the gold insert (it actually covers the grid on the inside), and presto!! A soft warm glow that was perfect for the wedding photos, and yet, unobtrusive enough to not get people rubbing their eyes from the "atomic bomb flash" of the larger Metz flashes...

So yes, this Lumiquest diffuser looks a bit strange to some, and impressive to others (to my surprise, not many photographers use this), the results speak for themselves. Don't expect this system to light up an entire room, or be able to light up a group of more than 10 people @ more than 10 feet away, but in situations where all you get is one chance to get the "perfect shot", this accessory is simply perfect!

it's like Sex and The City, but for guys...

2010-06-02T12:17:00.010-04:00

I was bored, and needed to flex my writing muscles, and after seeing: "the Hangover", i thought i would try my hand at critiquing. I think i did a not bad job if I do say so myself...

it's like Sex and The City, but for guys...

The first thing that hit me the moment I saw four guys preparing for a wedding (which immediately sent off the "eye-rolling/groaning-plot-line-alarm-bells) was - "somebody/or group is going to be involved in some sort of messed up romantic adventure where one person is the "lady/man in waiting", while everybody else becomes the satellite planets out of orbit", and well, i was right. And so begins The Hangover...

Sure, it's a funny film - slapstick and outrageous, but nothing that you would not have expected if you had seen similar "any dude's version of Thelma and Louise" genre films (Pineapple Express anyone?). Adventure comedies are built in with the implication that the viewer suspend his belief and better judgment that: "this is just way too outrageous to happen in real life", for example, the scene where Alan (Zach Galifianakis) stumbles into the bathroom for a (sloppy sleepy morning) pee after a night of intense party-going and finds a tiger lounging on the bathroom floor. Yea, it's not what you would expect, and elicits some laughs in the way Alan has a delayed reaction to it, and by this point in the film, you have been waiting for something "this over the top", but how this (tiger) is used as a vehicle to introduce a pretty gratuitous character that does nothing to drive the plot along, in my opinion, is just lazy. I mean - this is Mike Tyson's Tiger? But most puzzling, is why Mike Tyson?!! This guy has as much presence as a piece of wet cardboard. The BABY has more personality than this 'has been boxing star' and does a hell of a lot more for this picture than what seemed to me as a "superfluous tribute" and an excuse to have bragging rights on the part of the director/producers to say: "Hey! I got Mike Tyson to act in my film - isn't he AWESOME?" But i digress...

Mid point in the film - Alan's character is becoming more charmingly neurotic, Stu (Ed Helms, who in my opinion, is a complete gem in this film, and does a lot to save it from comedic mediocrity) not only loses his tooth, but begins to lose his mind, and Phil (Bradley Cooper) is the ringleader who is trying to keep it all together, and Doug (Justin Bartha) - the groom to be? Well, he's off somewhere, unconscious, being a trivial psedo-main character who is resurrected at the end of the film, and unbenounced to him, saves the day. Throw in a weak cameo appearance from Mike Tyson who plays himself, Jade (Heather Graham), a stripper with a heart of gold, who did a wonderful job at pulling it off, and a few other supporting characters: the lady in waiting - Tracy (Sasha Barrese), the father - Jeffrey Tambor (who is such a brilliant actor, and should have had more than just a few lines in this film, and perhaps, in doing so, might have been able to add more comic oomph with his deadpan humor), Rob Riggle and Rachel Harris), all seem to stumble around in a metaphoric drunken like haze, much as the main characters do throughout the film.

And my main point to this review - is that for me, this film basically comes off as "Sex and the City" for men. It's a feel good buddy film about 4 misfits involuntarily getting into strange compromising situations that inevitably bring them all together as a close knit group of old friends. it worked for Michael Patrick King, why could it not work for "the Hangover"? Alan is a provocative Samathan Jones (modify Samantha's sexuality and transform it into a fearless savant who is the first to take a leap into the outlandish and unknown), Stu is Charlotte, a dizzy, clueless heart-of-gold lost soul who finds inner strength in the end to be true to her/himself, and Phil is Carrie Bradshaw - quirky, yet introspective and logical in an abstract enough sense to see the fuzzy silver lining in what seems to be a drug/alcohol soaked cloud. What about Miranda/Doug? This deadpan, overly analytical low key prototype character punctuates the film, but does not have enough of a "out of the ordinary" personality type to really make them entirely endearing (or give them enough room to be completely over the top, at least not in this film) but manage to be the metaphorical anchor to the dynamic of the foursome.

So in summation, is this film worth seeing just because it is entertaining? Sure - if you don't expect too much of the plot or characters. It does have it's shining moments (Alan's mental calculations at the casino), almost everything that Stu does and says, but the end of the film left me feeling jilted and after the 100 minutes I had invested in this tour de force, was hoping for a neater ending, and was not impressed by how it seemed to be embellished by some loosely stitched together punny/sight gag threads. Save your $ and get something really funny like "Superbad", which in my opinion, is like the gift that keeps on giving, one humorous layer at a time.

slowly

2010-05-18T13:50:00.000-04:00

slowly but surely I'm hobbling along.
Seeing an internist (hopefully soon).
Going to a "pain clinic" for therapy.

have lost some friends during this time. Seems like some people do not do well with illness - other people's that is.

fuck em.

didn't need them then, don't need them now.

a solar system of nightmares and hope

2010-05-07T17:56:00.000-04:00

i have little energy to spare these days, but i feel a detailed account of my experiences is necessary for the healing process. I can talk faster than i can type, but i can type faster than i can write, so typing it is, for now...

shock:
upon hearing that the money for your last MRI scan was money that was going to pay the rent...

shock:
having to go to the ER AGAIN just days after the surgery.
I would rather have died than go back again, but either way, one would have led to the other eventually if i did nothing...

shock:
despite my desperate yelps of pain, and being high on the triage list (the top was 1 - car accidents and heart attacks, I was 2) I still had to wait three hours to be seen by somebody.

shock:
watching your wife/daughter go into shock full body shock and a nano second away from passing out from the excruciating pain that came after what was supposed to be a routine examination.

shock:
waiting two hours for my morphine drip, despite me almost passing out again from the pain, pleading for help and having the doctor run around playing cat and mouse to find the nurse.

shock:
hearing the doctors say: "we can't find anything that might be causing you this excruciating pain, and we are sorry for your suffering. It really must be horrible..."

I was not let go without a psych evaluation from the emergency Psych team on call.

The last doctor (#20 to date), was worried for my personal safety as she saw the level of distress and pain in my eyes.

I too am worried for my safety.

but what keeps me going are the only two people who mean the world to me, who would do anything and everything for me, and are my only world right now.

Mother Sun and Husband Moon.

Their orbit is what keeps me from spiraling out of control into the blackness and emptiness of space and insanity.

24 hours

2010-05-04T18:34:00.000-04:00

155 hours after the operation, HPK was in the emergency ward, and after an intense 24 hours, today HPK is back home from the emergency ward and will be back in a few days to post.

(E)

just a little something for me...

2010-05-01T13:44:00.000-04:00

what will we find?

2010-04-27T23:38:00.000-04:00

the snow is staying on the ground.
It's disgusting.
All those beautiful little plants that I carried from mom's garden to our little hell pit are going to die.

It's so cold. Damp.
Body and bones ache.
but I can't take anything.

by this time 2mrw, hopefully the mystery will be solved.

Saw the g-doctor yesterday, and after scoping my stomach with a tube camera he said,"you have a few ulcers and some esophagitis (?) which could turn cancerous with time and if it's not monitored", so they took some samples.

"but ms hpk - the colonoscopy was normal. We hope the surgery will get to the bottom of these issues."

me too.
Fucken me too.

up @ 5:30am.

Despite the whole ativan that would knock out a whale, I'm wired and wide awake, thinking way too much...

you learn something new every day...

2010-04-27T23:24:00.001-04:00

in pain for most of the time now.
Some docs say that because it was caught too late, i might have this chronic pain for the rest of my life. I can't sit for long periods of time. Walking is a chore. Must lie down a lot. When I found this, it made me smile.

I never knew she took photos in color.

it's all good bro...

2010-04-24T03:04:00.006-04:00

I am so happy that i dragged my sleepless restless body outside today to meet an old friend. He was Big in our Sex and La Cite. He was perfect for the role, but then again, everybody was bang on. We all still talk about those wonderful times. Everybody says: "that was once in a lifetime chemistry that we had", and because of my writing, i was the seed that made it happen.

BUT anyway...

so I met with E and went to his bachelor pad. Not bad for a bachelor pad I must say. and the guy is pretty tidy for a dude. So we caught up, talked a lot of shop talk, which was nice. it had been a while since i spoke cinema speak with anybody other than myself. He's working grip on a youtube sensation that will now be featured on the food channel - Bitchin Kitchen. Funny, our greek boy in the play actually plays the greek boy/fish monger/meat specialist. Oh i had a laugh when he told me about that.

And then we spoke of future projects. He really does value my opinion and we have always worked so well together - the last one was Travesty where I DPd. Apparently, lots of people though it was really well shot. Thank you very much :-)

but until today, i had yet to see the complete version.

Two years later - hello?

but he was busy with other more important things, so i wasn't going to hold it against him. I know he is true to his word. But the new stuff, very cool. Period piece with lots of CGI. Could be lots of fun...

And then we watched the famous Travesty. A fun little short film, until I saw the last 5 minutes, and some spots out of focus... FOCUS!?!

I didn't come down hard on him, but i said: "bro, you're kidding me. I know I shot more footage than that?!!"

"but bro - I was telling you: "Just do a master shot" and thank god you were shooting some extra stuff cause without that, we would have been doomed. And I was just telling people it was a stylistic thing - you know, like Arrested Development."

"oh my dear E. We are nowhere near being rich or famous enough to have the creative license to be able to pull out of focus shots for the sake of "style". This just looks like crap! Sorry, I know you have picture lock and are waiting on sound, but dude! It's out of focus!!"

Well, he conceded that it was not a good thing, and for my demo reel, it would not look good with out of focus shots, when I'm the one who has to be watching that everything looks good!

Well, for 3 minutes of film time, we worked 3 hours!!
how insane is that?! But oh I loved every minute of it! I just love editing!

"you are a storyteller, and editing is a way of putting the visual pieces of the narrative puzzle together to tell one single story. No wonder you love it so much - and you do it well...

So we decided to meet again - he will bring all his HDs and I have Final cut pro on my mac, and then to work on the final things - color correction, sound, but I think it will be a fun film. And I need to pad my cinema resume. I'm proud of my film one (it's almost 5 pages!!) but i need stuff that will pay the bills too.

speaking of photography, he still has that photo I gave him for his birthday once - the sculpture in new york. He says that it's one of his favorites.

That was a small joy today...

Since we met - from day one of the play, I always got along with the guys. They took me as one of their own. Literally. I was the "dude" and E's "bro(ther)". I love that - guys can feel comfortable with me. Like the time E and P and I drove down to NYC for a few days, and than met Z. it was the Boyz night out, and I was the only one in heels (for that moment at least).

Oh good times.

I need to reconnect. I'm feeling so disjointed lately, and sleep? What sleep. 3 hours a night max. Pulled two all nighters in the past 5 days. I almost collapsed the other night, but boy, i slept like a rock. I had forgotten how nice a sold nights sleep could be.

3am and kinda jittery and kinda tired.

Happy as a pig in shit that i finished my intro trailer to my site. it looks cool (although, youtube is stingy on bandwidth - cause the images look all pixilated) but for somebody who has only known that program for a month, it's not bad at all.

So I've been telling peeps that after my surgical procedure from hell (back to back stuff. Euch.) I will need visitors as I will be out for at least a week, if not more, depending on what they find, if they find anything at all, so I will be taking people into my home, and into my life again. A new page, a new chapter, a new beginning.

back to the things that made me feel whole - film, photograph and writing.

"It's all good bro."

Yes, my friend, today really is...

Untitled from Kathy Slamen on Vimeo.

up too late...

2010-04-21T06:35:00.007-04:00

gad.
I was up too late.
Am still up and the sun is shining. Day two of no sleep.
but at least i was productive, or trying to be.

Tried my hand at final cut pro.
I know, i'm behind the times - kids that are 12 years old are making videos better than this, but given my circumstances, it's not bad at all.

A cup of java and then to bed, by the window with the sunlight streaming in...

you truly are a gift...

2010-04-19T14:08:00.002-04:00

Boob doc 2mrw. Time to check up on my well marbled porterhouse steak breast tissue.

Got the confirmation for my g-scope next monday (first one in - THANK GOD), just waiting on the surgery confirm.

Pain. Serious.
Had somebody in from out of town last night. Was quiet as a mouse. I had to breathe through the stabbing jolts. Spent more time breathing than talking.
I have a place where they are to visit. I just wish I could be well enough for the long flight down. Right now - 10 minutes is all I can take sitting down before i have to lie down again. A 10 hour flight would kill me...

Did lots of news for my website updates.
Wow.
Lots of shit going on!!
My CV looks pretty damn impressive. Almost 5 pages long. And that is just the photography stuff. There is also the writing and cinema CV's. It's a shame that I'm not making any money off this stuff. And it's definitely not for a lack of trying.

My luck as always...

And apparently, my cards were selected to be part of the ABAD show in Croatia! Could the Eastern European block countries be my next market? First Ukraine, now Croatia!? Very cool indeed.

Next show - Morrocco.
Was offered a place to say there for four nights c/o the organizers. What a dream that would be, but alas, $$, $$ $$. Rubbing two pennies together is tough, i can't even fathom 2000$...

but i can always dream right?

Had a phone call from Charlotte the other day.

It was so nice to talk to her. We reminisced about our Sex and La Cite days and said that we should do something again.

Writing with her came so naturally and talk about comedic chemistry!

It was so nice to be able to do something that made people laugh.

I need to laugh on days like these.

Sadness has begun to take its toll.

but Charlotte said something that made me smile, and made me feel so appreciated in a world and time where and when I don't feel so much so:

"Some people I know bitch about everything, and some people who are going through only half of what you are going through drone on endlessly about their miseries. You don't - you laugh. That in my book is quite amazing. You know hpk, you truly are a joy and a gift to all those people who have you in their lives. You always laugh, and that is just wonderful."

I was almost in tears.

What a wonderful thing to say!

Amazing how a few little words could go so far in healing this wounded spirit and body...

I need to hear things like that these days.

Thank you Charlotte!!

all the way in croatia!

2010-04-18T04:10:00.001-04:00

Originally uploaded by ivanarezek

Well, my image has made its way to Croatia.
A little message about my struggle with bipolar disorder. How death played such a major role in my life back then, even as much as living, back when the two options were oddly interchangeable.

I hope those who see this image are moved, and made more aware about mental illness, and the devastating effects it has on everybody's life.

This is for you Bob, for you Phillipe. Two beautiful people who died too young - who took their lives because of their overwhelming struggle with depression.

That is what photography is about.
Changing a life, one shutter click at a time.

and that's 200$ please

2010-04-13T13:32:00.004-04:00

"the visit is covered by medicare, but that's another 200$ for your next ultrasound of the breast tissue..."

200$ for the follow up ultrasound from last year's 2nd biggest scare (first, the precancerous cells on the cervix, lump in breast tissue, a close 2nd, but not by much)

waited 3 hours for my GP today. Was in tears when I saw her.

The pain, unbearable.

Spoke with the nurse there, told her my symptoms. She was from Syria and trained to be a doctor (women's health) but decided to become a nurse instead.

We both theorized what this could be. We both ran down the symptoms. We were both perplexed.

"and all the ultrasounds and MRI and CT scans found nothing?"

I was used to saying this.

"no no no - nothing at all"

"But you are in so much pain. Your blood pressure is up. It's obvious you are suffering a great deal."

"heavy narcotics help, but only so much..."

"I hope they find out what this is."

me too...

Breast doc next week.

G-scope in two mondays, and then surgery two days after that.

Must remember to take the paper that says I'm "a bleeder". Don't want a repeat of the last surgery where i needed 4 pints of blood to stabilize me.

I should bank my blood. Get some cash to pay my medical bills.

Wait a minute, I can't sell it. I have Von Wilderbrand's disease.

It would be so very fucken nice to be healthy, and to have money to pay for all this care...

retraction...

2010-04-13T10:12:00.002-04:00

Sent on April 12, 2010:

(in reference to the jpg a copy of the invite I sent to him...)

Hi HPK - Awesome. :-) I feel silly for getting uptight... it's happened to me before so I jumped the gun. Anyway, your invites look great - really - and I'm glad you were able to get something cool. The way it was worded and the frame of mind I was in, I thought you flexed your digital muscles to recreate my sample! Next time I should just ask :-)

Best to you, and have a great wedding.

Yeaaaaa.

2010-04-12T13:51:00.003-04:00

M, thank you for offering to design my wedding invites, but I have already taken to flexing my photoshop and illustrator muscles and create my own "retro wedding invitation."

Hpk

To be honest, I've been a bit taken aback by your note. On one level, I am glad you have a solution for your invites. On a more disturbing level, I hope your invites look *nothing* like the sample I have online. My work is protected under copyright law -- it's original work -- and the time I spent creating it and posting it here was not for the purpose of hoping people copy it on their own because they don't want to pay me to reproduce my original art. I do pursue copyright infringement.

Please advise,

Thanks,

Hi M,

Do not worry, your invites DO NOT look like anything you have done! I merely used your "retro/vintage" feel/mood for my own. I used a simple modified circle, and just put our names and dates below. Very simple, almost minimalist with absolutely no design whatsoever...

hpk

GEEEZE!!!

Take a chill pill douchebag...

exhaustion...

2010-04-08T14:10:00.002-04:00

geeze.
Can't spell anymore...

well, spoke with the doc's secretary. Surgery scheduled sometime during the last week of the month. G-scope same week. I'm aiming for that golden bedpan - frequent flyer miles except this one is for hospital visits.

The last scope revealed nothing. The gastro doc had mentioned that I should see a urologist to cover all my bases. What's next? Heart? Lung? Brain?

Ouf. Just should have a scan done of the whole body. That's it, that's all.

Seeing the breast doc in two weeks to address the lump issue.
Psych doc will just have to wait. Unless i have a meltdown before then. Fingers crossed that it does not happen...

What is keeping my spirit up is the hope that I will be well enough to visit my family in B.C. And if things go well, E will be heading down to California for work, so that means I could hitch a ride with him. It won't be in L.A, but close enough to the shore for me to enjoy it. Just hope to GOD that it does not slide into the water while i'm there. With my luck, it might...

And also have been looking at images from the tourist videos of New Brunswick. Every time i watch this, it brings tears to my eyes. The sheer beauty is something that I want to experience in person before I die.

E is on board with me on this, but thinks that we will have to do it next year (hoping he will get some sort of raise, because after 6 years of nothing, we are getting pretty desperate. No money in the bank at all. Zero. Living from paycheck to paycheck) also because to hike to the best spots, is a 4-5 hour uphill journey. He has trouble going up stairs now. I don't want to kill him!

but i look at this and hope for the best, cause that is all I can do. That is all we can ever do...

2010-04-07T19:04:00.005-04:00

the pain is incredible

I can hardly walk

have left desperate messages with all my docs but nobody has called me back

I'm ready to take a knife to myself to figure out what is going on

why is this happening? Why can nobody find out what the fuck is going on?!

why can't i find a doctor who cares enough to really get their hands dirty and get down to the root cause of this thing...

i am so fed up

the pain, oh god, the pain...

will try again 2mrw, but i have fears about being left at the emergency ward for 6 hours, in pain, no help in sight.

Something is slowing down in my body.

Things have become foggy.

Have lost the ability to spell properly.

Can't find my words, failing memory but it's happening quickly.

Something serious is going on.

I just hope somebody figures it out before things

get so serious that they can't fix it...

Καλό Πάσχα and Happy Easter, and Happy clean insides, and happy birthday!

2010-04-02T11:59:00.000-04:00

Good things do come in threes, or fours in this case...

Greek Orthodox Easter and Catholic Easter fall on the same day - which does not happen often, and apparently, i have nice insides, the temperatures to climb into the high 20's, and oh yea, my birthday all on the same day!

So today and over the weekend, I will put aside the fact that I have put on a bunch of fat since i have not been able to exercise because of the pain, I will try not to focus on the pain which continues to plague me, and I will try not to focus on the fact that this thing will perhaps remain a medical mystery and I will have to live with this debilitating and crippling pain the rest of my life.

Because today it is beautiful outside, the sun is shining, and Sunday will be my birthday.

So for this reason, I will celebrate and try to forget the bad and remember the small joys in life.

my photography...

2010-03-24T23:41:00.000-04:00

Hi K, I believe that your work shows that photography is not always pleasant to look at but that we need to see things to be able to appreciate how other people are experiencing their lives. Keep up the brilliant work.

best wishes,
Roger

Wow.
What a compliment.

I just got this from somebody who saw my work on artween.com.

I have my blue series up there, and a bunch of other stuff that is not "beautiful" or "sexy", and that is just fine by me.

My photography is a tool for healing, education, teaching, and sharing.

I'm happy that it has touched somebody's life.

And that's what it's all about...

the great expedition

2010-03-24T17:41:00.000-04:00

I'm a broken woman.
Sobbing has become as natural and as involuntary as breathing.

The waiting is excruciating.
After countless calls to his secretary, nurse and his office, gastro doc has not returned any of my calls. Yes he is the head of gastric surgery now, but he has always been responsive in the past. Aside from showing up with my insides bleeding and oozing from my eyes, perhaps my only other option is to show up inside out.

I hope they are not mining for tumors, but the possibility is very real and very there...

* a few hours later...

gastro doc's secretary has just called me. She assured me that "we are going to get to the bottom of this", and that if a) his resident can't see me, then they would fax the requisition to the private clinic (colon and gastroscopy) but as I had emphasized, that if the pain got bad, then I would go through the emergency.

That means I have to talk to specialist doctor # 2. Another area completely but just as serious.

I told gastro doc's secretary: "in an ideal scenario, I could have the laparoscopy and both scopes done all at once. We shall see.

but at this point, I am on multiple pain killers and nothing is working.

Ah perchance to sleep, but unless I can remove the rest of my body from the neck down, I'm out of luck...

Because I still struggle with this...

2010-03-24T02:02:00.007-04:00

as promised, and long overdue, my first sound 16mm student film. I made this during the first year of (my 2nd degree) Film Production specialization in what is now called the Mel Hoppenheim school of cinema.

The sound is crap, i know. The picture is shitty but the idea is there and for now,

that is all that matters...

(tip - click on the little square between the bars and the "Vimeo" logo". This way you can see it larger, which is better...)

Clair Obscure - a visual autobiography from Kathy Slamen on Vimeo.

I did everything here, aside from act.

That is my voice you hear. This is my experience you are seeing.

My professor warned me about the pitfalls about making a film on mental illness, because it was a complicated subject, and because i was a rookie, there was a fine line that needed to be balanced upon - because too serious or too light and the message would not come across as intended. I'd either end up with a bad comedy or a bad horror film.

But i was determined, and for 6 months of my life, i was this film in ever sense of the word. And my professor as well as a few close friends and family believed in me when nobody else did. And the day i had my final "rough cut", 12 people were stunned silent for minutes as they absorbed the film they just saw.

And this film has gone on to touch lives, win awards and open minds to what is the major leading cause of illness next to cancer - mental illness.

After the past two years of my public struggle with manic depression, the urgency to put this film "out there" and embark on a new project has come, but I have to lay the foundations first.

This film has already won numerous awards, brought many people to tears, but in the end, it was about sharing my story with the world, and i think that after all is said and done, perhaps this is my purpose in life - to illuminate, educate and reach out to those who are familiar and not so familiar with this disease.

So the next time somebody says that mental illness is not real, tell them from somebody who suffers from it - mental illness is a cancer of the mind and spirit.

it's real, and this film and i are living proof...

i am the little filmmaker that could...

in the words of a desperate and despondent woman..

2010-03-14T04:02:00.000-04:00

I got an email from one of my new docs.

he has a long complicated last name, so everybody calls him Dr. K

in the words of a desperate and despondent woman, can you please help me?

i was in tears when I wrote that, so fed up from getting the run around, no replies to my phone calls - in general, making my way through the medical system has been hell...

but a ray of light

no problem HPK, we will see you this Wednesday

Dr.

one step at a time.

That's one doctor on board for problem # 1
waiting for doctor number two about problem # 2

seeing my head shrinker the same day as Dr. K., 2 hours later.
Thank God they are in the same hospital. I hope psyhc doc is as willing to help me much as Dr K.

f and t's crossed...

between a rock and a cancerous hard place...

2010-03-12T20:10:00.004-05:00

High grade precancerous cells on cervix - 3 times

total hysterectomy + no cervix = no cervical cancer.

but

"Your risk of vaginal cancer increases following a hysterectomy." **

life between a rock and a cancerous hard place...

and that still doesn't answer the question to medical mystery problem # 2...

life as me - fun isn't it?

it just does not stop...

2010-03-11T23:04:00.000-05:00

I'm cursed.

This shit does not stop.

Went to see my doc the other day.
She wants to send me to another specialist. As soon as possible.
Our insurance is already maxed out from 4 ultrasounds, two specialized tests and one MRI. This is going to bankrupt us. And we are not even in the U.S!!

wtf?

nice to have money it would be...

but we don't and that's the reality.

Nobody in their right mind would hire me now. I'm sick too often, and mom has been in and out of hospitals for years. I need to take care of her if she needs me.

I need to take care of myself.

Another shocker, the doctor told me: "we might have to look into this radical surgical procedure in the near future. You did have problems in the past..."

I almost cried on the spot.

I went home and cried like a baby for hours and hours.

This would totally be a lifestyle change.
No more running or any strenuous activity. Ever again...
Not to mention 3-4 months rehabilitation time...

going to be 42 on april 4th.

Happy fucken birthday to me.

This year started off in the hospital, i wonder where i will spend my birthday?

I have tried to call my other doctor (yet another bodypart gone bad) and he has yet to return my calls.

nothing.

Waiting and waiting.

I have waited 3 months in severe pain and will have to wait another one to see anybody. And this after being put standby on a cancelation list.

I'm so fed up. Ultimately fed up and let down.
And oh yea, did I mention that I'm bipolar as well?

Times like this i wish I had just taken the leap into the unknown so many years ago. Ended it all. One last breath and no more pain.

regret is a dangerous thing.
Almost as dangerous as suicide...

Really. I mean, really!?!?

2010-03-09T18:04:00.000-05:00

Really. I mean REALLY?
You got to give me a fucken break...

this just goes to show you that being an actual "skilled photographer" these days means absolute shit. Any kid can pick up a digital camera and call themselves "an artist".

case in point...
this person got the People's choice award.

I know this person and must say that it's a shame that he did not get the top prize.
This man is brilliant. He is a male Cindy Sherman. All those people in the photo? All him. I was lucky enough to meet 2Fik and must say, that it won't be long before his work will be at the Centre Pompidou in France.

but that other person?
REALLY?!?!
I mean, wtf?

I was sooo utterly discouraged when i saw that.
Seems like my "blue series" that i submitted did not even make a blip on the radar.

Photography, is now becoming even more like show business. It's not what you do, it's who you know. It's not about skill but the right way to market yourself to the right people.

What's next? a 7 year old who takes the world by storm with her 'brilliant self portraits"?

"oh, i was bored and daddy left his camera behind when he went to work. I just pressed a few buttons, and I made some pretty pictures..."

Time to hang up my camera.
Seriously.

I have no strength to fight this shit anymore.
It's a lose lose battle.

Things just keep on getting worse.

e was on his way to pay his license and registration.
he got nabbed by the cops at random.
400$ ticket, plus 350$ for the registration he was just about to pay.

and that is just the most recent bad luck this poor boy has had.

when it rains...

When you think things can't get any worse, they usually do...

I'm too sick to work. We have no money.
The sky is falling and i have a hole in my umbrella.

take me away...

Haitian art fun

2010-03-04T15:24:00.003-05:00

somebody put a $10 bid on my photo.
What a surprise that was.
I was not expecting anything at all.

anything I can get for my art these days (attention wise) is a bonus.

I'm thinking of hanging up my camera for a while. Along with my writing cap, and rest of my tools of the trade.

Life has become overwhelming. The pain and ache of regret and sadness is suffocating me. Lead feet, alcaline mind, eyes suspended in acid. My medications have once again, begun to crap out on me.

Bipolar is not a myth.
Bipolar is not something one can "just snap out of"
Bipolar is my mental cancer.

Depression actually kills your heatlhy braincells.

Cancer of the mind...

and the medical mystery lives on.
The pain - two months and still no answers.
Go ahead, cut me open and poke around my insides.

I'm already bedridden most of the time, so this will be a walk in the park compared to what I've been through...

Something you need to know...

2010-03-03T15:42:00.000-05:00

What you need to know.
What i'm going through is real.
It's pain, it's horror, it's fear and hopelessness.

It's real and if I could possibly have any wish is that everybody on the planet who says that "bipolar illness isn't real" have one day in my shoes during one of my worst episodes.

But I know that will never happen, so it remains my mission to give a shout out whenever I can. To educate the ignorant and to shout at those who choose to feign hearing loss.

It's All in Your Head And Other Thoughtless Things Said!
By Marcia Purse

How often have you been accused of whining or being a hypochondriac? Do people think you are just a complainer, an attention-seeker, when depression makes it difficult for you to cope with daily life? Are you told that "there is absolutely nothing wrong with you?" Do people tell you to "get over yourself?" I am sure that everyone with bipolar disorder has had those completely thoughtless things said which we can quote verbatim 5, 10 and even 30 years down the road.

Sometimes those with whom we interact can be narrow minded and cutting. And for every person who says something deliberately hurtful to a person with mental illness, there are a dozen who say things thoughtlessly or out of ignorance. Unfortunately, regardless of intent, words wound, fester and scar.

The following is a short list of things people say that are often intended to be helpful, but are actually tactless. Perhaps these will better equip you to respond to the thoughtless comments and to illustrate the need for each of us to better think through our word choices.

What was said: It's all in your head. You are a hypochondriac.
What may have been perceived: You are either completely deluded or making an excuse for poor behavior in order to get my sympathy. I don't believe in that psychiatric mumbo jumbo. I don’t believe that you actually have a real illness.
The Fallacy: Mental health problems are the result of a character flaw or weak personality. Mental illnesses are not real diseases.
The Facts: Bipolar Disorder is a medical illness with a physical cause probably rooted in structural or biochemical abnormalities in the brain. In short, it is very real, just like diabetes or heart disease.

What was said: We all go through times like this.
What was perceived: You are overreacting. Stop making mountains out of molehills. You can't handle life as well as I can.
The Fallacy: Everyone has the symptoms of Bipolar Disorder.
The Facts: An article by David A. Kahn, M.D., and colleagues entitled Treatment of Bipolar Disorder: A Guide for Patients and Families1 offers an excellent perspective for addressing this fallacy. "We all experience a variety of moods -- happiness, sadness, anger, to name a few. Unpleasant moods and changes in mood are normal reactions to everyday life, and we can often identify events that caused our mood to change. However, when we experience mood changes or extremes that are out of proportion to events or come 'out of the blue' and make it hard to function, these changes may be due to a mood disorder."

What was said: Just shake it off.
What was perceived: You've created this problem for yourself, so just get over it and move on. I am out of patience with you. Don't bother me with this again.
The Fallacy: Everyone can and should control their emotions.
The Facts: Bipolar disorder is a medical condition. Those with this disorder can no more snap out of it or shake it off then those with a broken leg.

What was said: He must be demon possessed.
What was perceived: I am righteous. You are not. Everyone who believes in God is perfect and does not struggle in life. You are a sinner and got what you deserved.
The Fallacy: Bipolar Disorder is the result of misconduct.
The Facts: Bipolar disorder is not your fault. It is not the result of something you did or didn’t do. "Bipolar disorder has no single proven cause, but research suggests the illness is due to abnormalities in the way some nerve cells in the brain function or communicate." (Kahn et al, 2004).

Sources:
Kahn, D.A., Keck, P.E., Perlis, R.H., Otta, M.W., & Ross, R. (2004). Treatment of Bipolar Disorder: A Guide for Patients and Families2.

O Canada

2010-03-02T15:20:00.000-05:00

I have always loved watching the olympics, but this year, it was different. Not only did i swell with pride every time a medal was won by a fellow Canadian, but a whole nation did with me as well.

14 GOLD medals.
Congratulations brave and brilliant athletes!
My home and native land has become a happier place to be...

Emotional Freedom Technique (EFT) Introduction

2010-02-25T18:08:00.001-05:00

very cool (note to self, don't be angry at E when he taps like a nervous monkey. He may be onto something...

Self-Acceptance with Emotional Freedom Technique (EFT)

2010-02-25T18:00:00.001-05:00

I need this so very much right now...

a little history behind the book about death..

2010-02-24T20:23:00.000-05:00

I'm in the Wales incarnation of this project.

Seems like my little "blue" series will now see another side of the world...

MOMA New York and LA County Museum of Art Research Library, have acquired a set for their Art Collection, and The Mube in São Paulo will also hold a set, maybe it's a good move to get the work to Wales.

To date it is exhibited @ MOMA New York, River Mill Art Gallery, Westfield. New Jersey, Eclipse Gallery, Winsconsin, Otis School of Art & Design, Mobius in Boston. The Queens Museum of Art (NY) The Mube in São Paulo Brazil'' España La Sexta House of Music, Tijuana, Mexico, Baton Rouge Loiusiana .... and now there's a box here on the chair!"

The sprawling, collaborative unbound "book" on the subject of death at the Emily Harvey Foundation Gallery in New York opened on Thursday, September 10, 2009, one day shy of 9/11, bringing together hundreds of artists in a global exhibition that honors the late artist Ray Johnson (1927-1995), whose own work inspired this exhibition; Emily Harvey (1941-2004); and the artists themselves, who have presented their unique visions of the subject through combinations of art, photography, and text.

Conceived and organized by Matthew Rose, a Paris-based American artist, A Book About Death is comprised of artists' postcards from original art created specifically for the exhibit. These pieces collectively form the pages of the "book." While many of the artists involved in the exhibition are internationally known – Yoko Ono, Eric Andersen, Peter Schuyff, Rodney Alan Greenblat – all of the artists share the stage equally. Each artist has contributed 500 postcards to the exhibit, and visitors to the Emily Harvey Foundation Gallery were encouraged to take "pages" away with them to create their own book about death. The exhibit is thus designed to "disappear" on its own schedule as people attend the exhibitions.

"Between March 1963 and early 1965, Ray Johnson sent out an unbound 'book' in the mail one page at a time,"explained Mark Bloch, one of the 13 speakers and performers at the opening night."It was a largely unnoticed milestone in the history of books. To make things even more interesting, like much of Johnson's art, it took as its subject ‘death’. Now almost 15 years after the mysterious death of Johnson himself, a huge cross-section of international artists have been asked to revisit Johnson's original strategy by submitting one page each to a new 'Book About Death.'"

"The distribution of art and ideas was very much Ray Johnson's thing,"said photographer Mark Sink, who contributed a photograph of his mother, a three-time cancer survivor, to the exhibition. "It's very exciting to see him and the concept honored in this exhibition."Mark Sink noted that when he first confronted with the project, he drew a blank on death. Then, with some time, the ideas came rushing in. "Life is all about death -- Freud's dissertation of the human drive – sex or death and 'the death of analog...the death of our culture…the slaughter of self-aware sea mammals, and of course, our dying earth. Now I can't stop thinking about it!"

"A Book About Death has become a book about life,"added Joan Harrison, an artist and writer. "I have the strangest sense I can hear Ray (Johnson) chuckling over my shoulder every time I work on anything involved with this project!"

art for a good cause

2010-02-20T13:55:00.002-05:00

I'm so delighted to be a part of the Haitian Art Fund auction!

My gallery in New York welcomed me with open arms as I submitted one of my photos.

They are such amazing people, who really believe in my art, and i think will also embrace my next series of photos. I have a feeling that within the next two years, i will have another solo exhibition in New York City again.

And another cool thing, another site - Artists.de (based out of Germany) invited me to be a part of their site. They had seen my stuff on artween.com and loved it!

I have a feeling that a trip to Berlin this year will not be out of the question.

I already am starting to have some buzz about me in Europe, people have told me that Berlin would love my stuff. Fingers and Pilsner crossed.

Oh yea - i am also one of the "featured artists" at the Seattle Erotic Arts Festival this year. I had been begged by the international artist liason/merchandise director to have my stuff in his store. "I've been trying to get you for the past two years!"

A framed print for up to 500$ slot will be waiting for me. Yes....

so here is my haitian art fund image.

Bid high.
Art for an amazing cause...

inconclusive

2010-02-17T14:42:00.001-05:00

the MRI results - inconclusive...
they can't find anything that is out of the ordinary.

I think I'm gonna push for a PET scan, and the exploratory surgery.

The pain is incredible and I can't believe that there is nothing going on underneath the surface.

something is not right here and i need to find out what it is fast.

it has hampered the quality of my life. I can't sit, I can't walk, i can't move much.
I have become a prisoner of my own home.

and for somebody who is bipolar, staying indoors is NOT a good thing to do, especially during the winter months.

I'm slowly going insane.

I used to love to run, to go to the gym, to take long walks in the park, the crisp snow squeaking underneath my boots. Cleaning out the stale air from my lungs.

But that is become a chore. That has become almost impossible.

What next?

What next...

I'm pushing to to have my next surgeon's appointment pushed up from the end of March to an earlier date, but like with all doctors, their availability is limited to one day a week, and there are so many people who are perhaps even worse off than me who are also waiting...

Happy year of the Tiger.

Rip my insides to shreds, as if you are not already doing so...

Comedy for adults

2010-02-16T15:29:00.001-05:00

This stuff is f-ing brilliant!!

How many kids knew about masterpiece theater, let alone "Upstairs Downstairs"!?

I almost peed my pants when I saw this.
Watching it for the 5th time and it never gets old...

tiger+monkey=A bumpy ride...

2010-02-14T23:34:00.004-05:00

ohh.
Year of the Tiger.

Too much change in such a short period of time.

I was afraid of this.

read along with me...

The Chinese Year of the Tiger will result in tremendous strokes of luck for the Monkey. Golden opportunities will appear out of the blue, and you need to be ready to seize them. You may get an opportunity to study abroad, stage a play, return to school or get a dream job. The sky is the limit in 2010. The one problem you will face is lack of time. You'll be so busy working, playing and creating that you'll have few opportunities to rest and relax. When you feel overwhelmed, ask friends to help you with chores and housework. They'll be happy to come to your assistance for a change.

Your family will undergo some radical changes, and you need to be prepared to assume the responsibilities of a sibling, spouse or parent who is called away on other business. A period of adjustment will ensue and a few arguments will break out. It takes time to break old habits and establish new routines. Be willing to rearrange rooms in order to accommodate your new lifestyle. "Out with the old and in with the new" should be every Monkey's motto in the Chinese Year of the Tiger.

Your work life will also experience seismic shifts. It's critical to maintain good relationships with your colleagues throughout 2010. Refuse to get drawn into office politics. By mid-year, the atmosphere may become so tense that your boss will be required to reorganize the entire team. You'll have some good suggestions for rearranging things, so warring parties won't have to deal with each other anymore.

LOVE

You need to be utterly scrupulous as far as your love life is concerned, dear Monkey. Scandals have a way of popping up during the Year of the Tiger. If you're tempted to stray from a committed relationship, either seek couples counseling or break things off altogether. Cheating will come back to haunt you. A flirtatious admirer who tries to tempt you away from your partner can't be trusted. Yes, it's flattering to get all of this attention, but in the end, you'll be glad you stayed away from this rogue.

Single Monkeys are better off focusing on their social life than pursuing romance, according to your Chinese compatibility horoscope. The Year of the Tiger could put a heartbreaker in your path. If you do happen to get swept off your feet by a silver-tongued devil, be prepared for a big shock. It may develop this admirer is juggling several relationships. Hold out until next year, when prospects for a steadfast lover will be better.

MONEY

Monkeys need to be careful about impulse purchases in the Chinese Year of the Metal Tiger. This isn't the best time to buy expensive status symbols and flashy clothes. The demands of your social life could put a serious dent in your savings, too. By putting yourself on a budget, you'll avoid the pitfalls many other Monkeys will experience in this frenetic year.

If you want to change jobs, plan to do so in the second half of the year, when your prospects will be strong. Limit your search to your current field; 2010 is not the time to switch industries. A job offer could require you to relocate. Although the idea of moving away from friends and family is upsetting, you will be glad you accepted this position. It looks as though you'll be able to make significant headway in your career. In addition, you'll meet some great new people who appreciate your unique outlook and talents.

I was afraid of this for so many many reasons...

Michel Bubble and the marvels of modern science...

2010-02-12T15:20:00.001-05:00

Had my mri the other day. Got a bit worried when the technician said that the radiologist wanted to see my ultrasounds to "compare". Guess they found something because if they didn't they wouldn't need another scan to "compare" it to!

That made me quite nervous actually.

The scan lasted about 45 minutes and man, was it loud!!! Thank God they gave me noise canceling headphones (big honking earphones) and piped in some Michel Bubble to pass the time. The actual sound was in mono, but it helped to take my mind off being in this magnetic doughnut while my atoms were being spun around and around.

oh yea, had a mild allergic reaction to the thingamajig they had to inject into me to get a clearer image. A huge rash, some heart palpitations, but nothing too serious.

Small mercies...

The pain was so bad last night I had to bite the narcotic bullet and take the morphine. It did work, but it also made me agitated. It's hard to sleep in 15 minute intervals. The sun was coming up and i was trying to find solace sandwiching myself between two pillows.

and so the journey continues...

Letting go...

2010-02-09T01:58:00.003-05:00

“In the end these things matter most:

How well did you love? How fully did you live? How deeply did you learn to let go?”

Buddha

2010-02-06T20:49:00.001-05:00

birthday party
a friend of ours is turning 50.

but a very cool 50

went to the flea-market to pick up some cool

got some cool gifts

now E is coming down from his inadvertent msg. Baton Rouge high
the pain is still really bad.

I will push for the surgery as soon as possible, that is, if the MRI doesn't' find anything, which i have a sneaking suspicion it won't...

Happy Birthday B

2010-02-05T13:46:00.002-05:00

she would have been 89 today

Happy Birthday B.
I can't think of a more fitting tribute than to have your postcard and your story touch other people's lives around the world. For starters, you have already visited Brasil. Next stop, the town you came to call home...

A book about death

(click on images to see full size)

Front and back

Front

Back

Front - no back

2010-02-05T10:45:00.001-05:00

how cool is that?

Hellophotokitty, you've received $157.79 for your submission!

Thank you for submitting to the BBH Creative Invite. As part of Talenthouse's mission to provide artists opportunities for recognition and compensation for this Premium Creative Invite, each artist will receive a portion of the $6,500 USD equal to their share of total votes received.

Congratulations, you acquired 2.43% of the total votes and you will be receiving $157.79 USD!

For somebody who was "a semi-finalist", and asked as many people as I could to vote for me, ( i know a lot of people, but not THAT many), any cash is good cash for me.

I'll take it where i can get it, and if it's for my photography, even better.

retro heaven

2010-02-03T17:53:00.003-05:00

brilliant
simply brilliant

love this...