sober.

Pink's new song... bears a striking resemblance to another time in my life.



I don't wanna be girl who laughs the loudest,
or the girl who never wants to be alone.
I don't wanna be that call at 4 o'clock in the morning
because I'm the only one you know in the world that won't be home.

Ahh, the sun in blinding,
I stayed up again.
Oh, I am finding
that's not the way I want my story to end

I'm safe up high, nothing can touch me.
But why do I feel this party's over?
No pain inside, you're my protection.
So how do I feel this good sober?

I don't want to be the girl who has to fill the silence,
the quiet scares me because it screams the truth.
Please don't tell me that we had that conversation,
I won't remember, save your breath 'cause what's the use?

Ahh, night is calling...
it whispers to me softly "Come and play"
I am falling,
and if I let myself go I'm the only one to blame.

I'm safe up high, nothing can touch me.
But why do I feel this party's over?
No pain inside, you're like perfection.
So how do I feel this good sober?

Coming down coming down coming down,
spinning round spinning round spinning round,
looking for myself sober...

Coming down coming down coming down
spinning round spinning round spinning round
looking for myself sober...

When it's good
then it's good
it's SO good,
till it goes bad.
Till you try to find the you that you once had.

I've heard myself cry.
Never again.
Broken down in agony,
just trying to find a friend.

I'm safe up high, nothing can touch me.
But why do I feel this party's over?
No pain inside, you're like perfection.
But how do I feel this good sober?

I'm safe up high, nothing can touch me.
But why do I feel this party's over?
No pain inside, you're like perfection.
But how do I feel this good sober?

--"Sober", Pink

rainy days.

I love rainy days. I love the sound, I love the smell, I love the way they make me introspective. There's just something so soothing about the random splatter of raindrops outside, and being safe indoors. It's like nature's beautiful music, only with no lyrics to distract you. Music is such a wonderful writing instrument, but it's words and melodies can sometimes lead you in a direction you were not planning on taking. With the rain, my mind is clear and unobstructed so that I can climb inside and dig around after what's really going on in there.

Today I'm thinking about memories. Obviously, we have memories to help us remember things in our lives. Things so simple as our neighbor's names, and other things sometimes as complicated as preparing our tax returns. Most of us remember our first kiss, our first car, and our wedding day. Some people remember childhood friends and adventures, and others can't remember where they put their keys. No matter the significance, the gravity, or the timelines of our memories, they are the things that help to shape us into who we become as a person. Without memories, we would never change, we would never grow, and we would never adapt to our situations or our surroundings.

However, I find myself wondering why on earth we find ourselves clinging to certain ones? Is it voluntary, or much in the same way as love, do our memories choose us?

The high school football star, you know the one. The guy who constantly reminds everyone around him how he was the big shot in high school. How he caught the winning pass in the last seconds of the championship game, bringing honor and notoriety to his team. This guy is usually in his 40's. Why is he still clinging to this memory? Is it because nothing he's ever done in his life since then has been of any value, or is it purely because he can't help it?

What about those forlorn hearts, wondering about "the one that got away?" Those men and women dreaming of what might have been, fabricating futures and families and entire lives based solely on the memory of a lost love. Their happiness is jeopardized, their souls are tortured, and any new relationships are undermined before they even begin. Do these people have regrets? Do they have nothing better to do? Or are these memories bombarding their minds against their will?

Though it seems to be a perpetual problem amongst all walks of life, I find it difficult to accept that people choose to dwell on the kinds of memories that are causing them pain. Is there some undeniable substance to those memories that refuse to allow a person to let go?

Our mind has been proven time and time again to be the most advanced thing known to man. Sometimes I wonder if there are checks and balances in place within our brains that we are totally unaware of. Maybe some sort of filters and databases so intricately orchestrated, in place and designed to create an individual experience in life that is completely unique to each person.

We may never truly know why we have the memories we have, but it seems that we should at least try to enjoy the ones we have, and make an effort to cultivate new ones every single day. Otherwise, we'll be forever transfixed in the past.

reminiscing.

Well, I just got finished uploading the wedding pics. FINALLY! It's been almost 3 months now, LOL. Anyway, looking back through them all I got a little teary-eyed and emotional. What an amazing weekend it was!! Not only because I married my best friend and my soul mate, but also because of all the people who shared it with us.

It meant so much that you all were there, and I can think of no better way to spend my wedding day than with the friends and family that I love the most!! Thank you to all of you who made our wedding weekend such a spectacular event for us, and I will always treasure the memories that we all made together that wonderful weekend!!

new life.

People keep asking me how I like being married. Has anyone ever really answered with "I hate it!" No... because no one who is newlywed hates it. Duh. Aside from the obvious reasons, I think that's an odd question to ask, but it got me to thinking about some of the "side effects" (if you will) of being married... at least for me.

For one, all the tiny little boxes I've latched shut and packed away neatly in the furthest corners of my memory are starting to come open. I don't know why really, but my theory is that now that my conscious mind is happy, my subconscious mind is ridding itself of all the little things it's been storing away in an effort to keep me sane all these years. Maybe it's natures way of telling me it's time to deal with some of the the things I've been suppressing that once plagued me so, now that I'm happy and in a stable lifestyle?

It seems that I am quite masterful at suppressing things. I never realized it until recently. Probably because my suppression bank is now spilling all over everything. Things are popping back up that I haven't though about in years. Things that now seem silly and so easy to resolve internally, that I have to wonder why I submerged them in the first place.

Old relationship issues resurface more than anything. I think about what once was, what might have been, who I was then, and who I am now. Every single situation is different, and sometimes emotional. It becomes uncontrollable at times and I just have to succumb to the torrent of things unfolding in my mind. I suppose the rush comes from holding them down for so long, but I cannot express the relief I feel once each one has been laid to rest. Finally.

It's funny how when you are happy in your life, and finally in the relationship that fate meant you to be in, that you begin to forget the rest. I find myself mentally flipping through my relationship rolodex, completely unable to remember names. First names, last names, parents' names who I was "close to" at the time, time frames, beginnings and endings are missing... and I know with the eradication of each memory, that little by little, I become truly free.

So how do I like being married? My answer to you is this:

Being married is the most wonderful, satisfying, fulfilling, and gratifying thing I have ever experienced in my entire life! Even those words are not enough in themselves to accurately convey the extraordinary level of my hearts contentment.

hostage.

Angst-y writing: I used to love it. I thrived on the rush of feelings that would come pouring out of my fingertips and onto this page. But now, so much has changed, and I've forgotten how to do it. I don't even know where it comes from anymore. I used to sit down no less than once a week and pound out something stirring to reflect the torment that my soul was being wrought through. I hate to think that just because the emotional torment is gone, that the writing is gone too...

Jerry and I have talked about this several times since we've gotten together, mostly because he has the same problem as I do in this regard. We're happier now than we've ever been because we're together and more in love with each other than either of us could have imagined. But separately as friends, we were two very creative people riddled with angst and a constantly throbbing presence of internal turmoil that could only lend itself to an outlet such as "blog writing". Really painful, heart-wrenching blog writing. These were the days of drinking ourselves under on a daily basis, dating inappropriate people for the sake of companionship, and making bad decisions in a flailing attempt to "fix" ourselves.

I remember this. Vividly. More so at some times than others, but it's still there. I just can't tap into it, which I hate. No one wants to read bright and shiny blogs. They are no fun, and fewer people can relate to them. They certainly do not stir emotion and opinion quite the way a well written angst-y blog does. They do not rouse people you haven't talked to in months to send you messages regarding your sanity and/or proximity to suicidal actions. (Those were my favorites guys, and I love ya for the concern but I was never crazy, promise. LOL!)

Sure I get stressed now, worry a little bit here and there about inconsequential things, but I am not sad, I do not struggle with my inner demons, and I have no one in my life torturing my emotions. So what the hell do I write about?? I am going to figure this out. I am determined to overcome this writers block that is holding my favorite creative outlet hostage.

Stay tuned... I have theories and I am willing to test them at my own expense! ;)

excellent article.

I ran across this article from Oprah.com by Amy Bloom. Simmer down, I'm not that "Oprah worshiping chick"... it was a link from CNN.com, LOL! No matter, it's a great read for both the single and married, and I especially liked the last paragraph because it reminds me identically of Jerry and I:

"We are real and unashamed, even of our faults. I do truly know what he's made of and vice versa. We are both people who want cutmen and foxhole buddies; we see life as wonderful and difficult and requiring energy and stamina and, occasionally, guile. We don't mind any of that.

We are both bossy and demanding and largely unrepentant. We don't mind any of that. We yell. We apologize profusely. We are idiosyncratic in our tastes, and we are both quite confident that our taste is better than most people's (including each other's). We take sex and family and food seriously and organized religion not at all. We are hard to embarrass and we cry like babies. We are each what the other hoped for."


Here's the whole thing for anyone who may be interested:

"Make Sure Spouse has the "Right" Faults"
-Amy Bloom for Oprah.com


It's a good and bad thing to be considered an expert in love. I don't think there's any point in pretending that you get to be an expert by meeting your soul mate early on, going through a few meaningful ups and downs, marrying in a cloud of good taste or even in a meteor shower of funk and crunk, and then dying, 50 or 60 years later, having had a faithful and fulfilling love life. We don't call those people experts. We call them lucky.

People like me, who write about lust and love in fiction and nonfiction, who have clearly made several important and completely necessary detours in their private life, people who have more than one wedding ring in their jewelry box, these people we call experts.

Go figure.

Here's the heart and the head of it: Know yourself, know the other, and face the truth about yourselves.


What 'know yourself' means:

Here's what I noticed after 25 years of being a psychotherapist and 55 years of being a person: There is just about no point in complaining about another person. Not because other people aren't annoying. (My God, there are people who've been put on this earth just to make me roll my eyes and mutter disapprovingly. In my family, as a matter of fact, "other people" is the standard explanation for almost all misfortune.) But because -- especially in intimate relationships -- the complaint about Him or Her will, unfortunately and inevitably, wind its way around to You.

He's often late, which is inconsiderate = I fear not being sufficiently appreciated. Thanks, Dad.

He thinks about his needs first, and mine second = If you express your needs, no one will love you. Thanks, Mom.

Your partner's faults are real (I'm on your side here) and various and even grievous, but those are their faults and, frankly, we're here to talk about you and me.

I went to see my former therapist, for a tune-up, shortly after I remarried. I wanted, on the one hand, to tell him how blissfully happy I was, because I knew that he'd be happy for me, and because I was in that stage of love where I would have paid people to listen to me talk about my wonderful husband. (I had already exhausted my friends, my family, my cleaning lady, and the mailman, who was nice enough to say, regularly, "Sounds like a great guy.") On the other hand, I wanted to complain. My husband was wonderful -- but not perfect. This was very upsetting.

Dr. Shrink: So let me make sure I understand -- on two occasions, in the course of the last year, he had too much to drink and at least once a week he comes home from work later than he said he would, and although he usually calls about being late, he doesn't always, and sometimes you have to poke him to get him to acknowledge that you've been kept waiting.

Amy: Yes. (The implication of my "yes" is: Feel free to sympathize; also, anytime you'd like to discuss his imperfections and their likely source, go right ahead.)

Dr. Shrink: I want to make sure I understand --

Amy: Yes. (Meaning: Let's get started -- he's selfish, possibly unreliable, and impulsive...)

Dr. Shrink: You came to see an expensive psychoanalyst to tell me that the man you married has faults of which you've been aware since you've known him? This is why you're here? Oprah.com: 20 questions to ask before you get married

Amy: Yes.

(So not what I was hoping for.)

We then spend some time on how terrifying I find it to love someone so much and how difficult I find the possibility and the likelihood of disappointment. We do get somewhere, and when Dr. Shrink stops, my best friend takes over. She says to me basically: No one's perfect. It's time you stopped being surprised by this. The question is, Do you take this bundle of faults over some other bundle of faults?

I do.

But it's not enough for me to choose this bundle of faults; if I want a love that lasts, I better know why this bundle suits me so well.

At first, one loves the faults because they are part of the whole adorable love package. She is a sweet and tenderhearted creature, and her inability to ask for a raise, hail a cab, or defend herself from her unpleasant mother are all part of her sweetness.

Of course, someday when you're standing in the rain with your armful of packages and ask her to flag that cab across the street and she says, winsomely, "Oh, darling, I just couldn't -- it's so ... aggressive" -- it will be less adorable.

He is determined and unswerving, which is great; he is also hardheaded and heedless. As much as you like the former, you better be comfortable with the latter as well. Understanding why is worthwhile, and usually involves a quick review of parents.

Whether or not they had a wonderful marriage you hope to emulate or a disaster you hope to avoid, it's helpful to know which parent you identified with and which parent's part you want to play. (Don't even bother trying to escape both of them entirely; to do that, you'd have to be born into another species.)

I think the biggest mistake I've seen in clients and friends and myself is acting on half an understanding: "I don't want to marry my selfish father; look how unhappy he made my sweet mother," sounds like a reasonable, even psychologically astute position, and an awful lot of people (including me) marry their nice mothers (or their nice fathers; bullies come in both genders) and think they've protected themselves. All I can say is: Not so fast, Shorty.

Consider: Marrying your sweet parent may mean that you end up playing the bully's role (someone's got to handle the rough stuff). Alternatively, marrying your dear and gentle dad may mean that you get someone with not just Dad's gentleness but his passivity, avoidance of conflict, and fear of public disapproval as well. The man who comforts you quietly after a battle with your mother is a good father -- do you have any idea what he was like as a husband?

And another thing you ought to wonder about -- why didn't your nice parent get what they wanted from the marriage? I was always saddened by the lack of intimacy in my parents' marriage, which was a burden for my mother and none at all for my father, until I suddenly thought: Why did she marry him?

My mother was good enough, and honest enough, to tell me: I married him because he was tough and ambitious, so I wouldn't have to be. I married him because he was more interesting than the dentists and accountants who asked me. And although I love getting flowers and hearing sweet nothings, and there have been damn few of those, I'm not like you, honey, I don't want intimacy -- I just want companionship and romantic gestures.

As my mother said to me on another occasion: I like the roses, but not if I have to put up with the thorns. Everyone should be so honest with themselves, and her honesty made me aware that I would accept an awful lot of thorns to be with someone who craves intimacy the way I do. (And I got that someone, which is why I now have a very close and often tumultuous marriage, with a degree of attachment that people find either very sweet or very peculiar.)

So know yourself and know your family. For me that means knowing that, as much as I appreciated my mother's sweetness and practical ways, I need a slightly reckless lion more than I need a sensible lamb in my life. (In the dictionary, right next to a number of hard-charging mammals -- including the weasel, famous for attacking animals larger than itself for no reason -- you will see my husband's picture.) So, finally, I married a lion, and although I never pictured myself being the person hanging on to the "oh shit" bar on the passenger side, saying, "For God's sake, honey, slow down!" I do prefer that to being the person who says, regularly, "It's okay, honey, if you're scared, we can turn around."


What 'knowing the other person' means:

When you look at another person's behavior (and please, do look at what he does, not just how he explains what he does. A man with a good and different explanation for each of the five times he's stood you up is a really good...explainer. Did you want to marry a world-class explainer?), the question will arise: Is it character or circumstance? Did he do what he did because of who he is, at his core, or was he pushed to that behavior by circumstance?

Guess what? Pretty much, after 18, it's character, every time. It's true that under extraordinary circumstances -- baby trapped under car, grandmother stuck in burning building -- you might see some hitherto unsuspected heroism emerge in someone you thought had not a drop, and even so, what you learn from that is: He had a drop of heroism in him, after all. But it is also true that even a man pushed to robbing a bakery for bread for his starving child will show who he is by how he conducts himself during the robbery.

It's not true, despite what the advice columnists often write, that a man who leaves his wife for you will eventually leave you. It is true that a man who leaves his wife for you is capable of leaving you, and you would be smart to look at how he conducted himself during his divorce because no matter how crazy, bitter, unreasonable his ex was or is, his behavior reveals his character. You cannot behave cruelly without having some cruelty in your nature (and most of us do). An angry man who honors his obligations gracefully, a man who shows up on time to see his kids, even when their mother behaves badly -- that man is a good bet.

I've also discovered that the Virtuous have their downside. A man who cannot face his own flaws or acknowledge the ugliness (not horrors -- just normal human flaws: envy, jealousy, pettiness) in his nature, a man who will patiently explain, for days on end, that you should not be hurt by his behavior because he's a good guy who didn't mean to hurt you -- may actually prove to be worse company, in the long run, than a guy who behaves badly from time to time and admits it. (Or at least, that's how it is for me. Deeply, Determinedly Virtuous people scare me.) As it turns out, I prefer the full boil to the long simmer and I wish I'd known it sooner.


Know yourselves

Be real and be unashamed, even of your faults. I do truly know what he's made of and vice versa. We are both people who want cutmen and foxhole buddies; we see life as wonderful and difficult and requiring energy and stamina and, occasionally, guile. We don't mind any of that.

We are both bossy and demanding and largely unrepentant. We don't mind any of that. We yell. We apologize profusely. We are idiosyncratic in our tastes, and we are both quite confident that our taste is better than most people's (including each other's). We take sex and family and food seriously and organized religion not at all. We are hard to embarrass and we cry like babies. We are each what the other hoped for.

the aftermath of ike.

Reading over the lyrics to this song now after I have written them out seem really dark. But that's not how I intended my adoration for this song to sound.

Most of you know that Jerry and I live in Houston. Some of you may have noticed that we totally got hammered by Hurricane Ike on September 13th. One week after our wedding day, ironically.

Just in case you don't watch the news, or TV at all for that matter, it was brutal. It still is. Galveston barely exists anymore. Boliver Penninsula is now Boliver Island, and about half of south Houston was under water for days. There are STILL almost a MILLION people here without power. That means no lights, no a/c, no fridge, no laundry, no TV, no cell phone charger, no computer, NOTHING. If you don't have a battery powered radio you're sitting in silence. And when the batteries run out that's it.

On a personal note, there are hundred year old trees down all over our neighborhood. I saw our neighbor's brand new VW Beetle chopped completely IN HALF by a tree. We were without power for over a week, and some are expected to be without power for another 2-3 weeks. We're some of the lucky ones because we just happen to have a street light on our lot.

We had nothing. No grocery stores, no gas, no lights, no ice, nothing. We were, for all intents and purposes, living like colonial settlers. Except it was worse because we knew what it was like to miss those things. I had to stand in front of my refrigerator after day 4 and empty out well over a hundred dollars worth of food into the garbage can. It was painful. When we finally passed out at the end of the day after hours of manual labor cleaning up debris, in a hot bed in a hot room, in a hot house, it was only for as long as our bodies forced us to shut down before we arose again unable to sleep any longer in the heat. It was brutal, all of it.

We had to get our stuff from FEMA for God's sake... if being lumped into the same category as "Katrina Victims" doesn't make you feel like a worthless piece of shit, nothing will.

Anyway, one day this song came on the radio. We had just come from a church up North that was passing out provisions like Ice and Water that you could NOT get anywhere otherwise. These were people in situations just as bad as our own who were volunteering their time to load cases of water into people's trunks. Lined up as we drove away they are all reaching to shake our hands and saying "God Bless" and "Bless You" and I cried. The sheer magnitude of the situation shook me. There truly is still pure goodness in this fucked up world.

So then on the way home, with the windows of the car down and it being a cool day, (under 90... if that's actually considered cool) for a change, comes this song. Just hearing the words and watching the surroundings as we drove through miles and miles of devastation moved me to tears again. Life IS beautiful, and we should cherish it because it is so very fragile. There were some that were not so lucky as we were.

When I think about the wind making our house groan in agony, and shaking the roof of our house so hard I thought it was going to blow right off, or holding my scared and confused little dog as Jerry held scared me, or seeing entire limbs rolling down the street lengthwise, or cars being chopped in half, or HOUSES being chopped in half, or standing on the front porch watching the water inch it's way up the driveway to the house... I really start to appreciate the important things in life. Family, the people in your life who love you, and a God that (I believe) watches out for his children.

Check out the song, and think of those down here who are just trying to survive.


"Life is Beautiful"
-Sixx A.M.

You can't quit until you try,
You can't live until you die,
You can't learn to tell the truth until you learn to lie.
You can't breathe until you choke,
You gotta laugh when you're the joke.

There's nothing like a funeral to make you feel alive.

Just open your eyes,
Just open your eyes and see that life is beautiful.
Will you swear on your life that no one will cry at my funeral?

I know some things that you don't,
I've done things that you won't.
There's nothing like a trail of blood to find your way back home.

I was waiting for my hearse,
But what came next was so much worse...
It took a funeral to make me feel alive.

Just open your eyes,
Just open your eyes and see that LIFE IS BEAUTIFUL!
Will you swear on your life that no one will cry at my funeral?

Alive, just open your eyes,
Just open your eyes and see that LIFE IS BEAUTIFUL!
Will you swear on your life that no one will cry at my funeral?

upcoming nuptials.

So by now everyone should know that Jerry and I are getting married in a couple of weeks, (17 days from today to be exact!) and we could not be more excited about it!!

You also may know some of what we've been through in the last few months. Both of us losing our jobs, and what a shitty situation that was as well. Obviously, the timing could not have been worse for us both professionally and personally. Of course, the state of the economy has certainly not helped us either.

Unfortunately, though many of you are unable to make it to the wedding, (which I am really sad about, I thought we were going to have a huge party in Vegas guys!! LOL) but as a friend I am reaching out to you now. We've set up a "wedding fund" to help us cover the outstanding costs that lay ahead due to our unfortunate financial situation.

If you feel out of the goodness of your heart that you would like to help us out, please visit:

Jerry & Rachael's Wedding Fund

At this point, if we cancel the wedding, we lose over 5 grand in deposits that were paid months ago... so that's not really an option. I actually couldn't even bear the thought of not being able to get married to Jerry just because of the shitty things we've been put through. Not to mention all the people who are coming who would be really really pissed about travel arrangements, LOL!

Anyway, I think you guys know me well enough to know that I wouldn't say a word about us if it wasn't so important to me. So I guess that's that. We still love you guys and eventually we'll be back on top! :)

taking a stand.

I guess I'm ready to sit down and write about this now. I was thinking that maybe I wouldn't, maybe I would just let it go and move on, but now I am hearing that my good name is being drug through the mud, so here I am.

It's coming out, ALL OF IT:

I have been a loyal, dedicated employee of the Laff Stop for almost 4 years now. I was hired on as the "Office Manager" in 2004 under Pete Prelli. Pete as you all know, had his issues, but that's another story entirely. I came on to work under him and within 6 months had taken over the operational aspects of everything in that business so that he would be free to come and go as he please, or be there at night, or whatever excuses were made as to why I was doing all the work all the time.

THEN late in 2006, as has happened with so many others, I got into it with Pete and I quit. While I was nice enough to stay on for a couple of months to ease the transition, I was gone by October of 2006. In December of 2006, I got a call from Jeff McFerrin (the silent partner in the Laff Stop) begging me to come back on, offering me a raise, and letting me know that he was getting ready to out Pete from the club completely, and that he needed me to take over fully when Pete was gone. So of course, out of obligation to the Laff Stop, the comedy scene, and the sheer magnitude of the opportunity itself, I said "yes".

I came back, suffered through 6 more months of tyranny with Pete, keeping Jeff's little secret, and waiting for my turn. Finally the time came, Jeff cut the cord with Pete. Jerry and I lost friends, we had to have security around at all times due to the dangerous situation Jeff put us in, but we powered through. Jeff did not send Pete to jail for embezzling over $300,000.00 over the course of 3 years, nor did he seek ANY punitive damages from him. In fact, he PAID Pete an additional $10,000.00 just to shut up and walk away. Does that make sense to anyone??

The next 3 months were indescribable. I lived in fear for my life, I screened ALL of my calls, and I never went anywhere alone at night. I was too afraid. Jeff had left too many loose ends with Pete, and I knew that I was the 1 target. But guess what? I kept moving forward. I had to. The comedy scene needed me, the Laff Stop needed me, and Jeff McFerrin needed me. So I kept booking shows, I kept trying to come up with new ways to cultivate the comedy scene, and I always entertained ideas from the local comics to help get them involved in "their" club. I worked nights, I worked weekends, all in addition to my daytime 9-5, just to get the club moving on the right track again.

At the beginning of 2008, after I had been giving my heart, my soul, and my LIFE to the Laff Stop and to Jeff, I was told it was being considered for sale. Honestly, I didn't worry much. The Laff Stop has been "in the red" for about 3 years now, and only an idiot would sign on to take that kind of financial obligation over. I mean, the rent is $15,000/month alone. Then factor in comic fees, taxes, payroll, and all the other bills and expenses, and you're looking at needing $70,000.00 a month in INCOME just to BREAK EVEN. We've been averaging about $15,000 a month in income, so you can see where this is going...

In another attempt to ease my nerves, Jeff promised me that he would make sure that no matter what "he could still shut down and pay rent & severance of a few months' salary to me and still be in a better situation." So I felt pretty good... even if the club couldn't make it, at least I wouldn't walk away empty handed. So I carried on, business as usual. He kept me posted on what was going on, but nothing was happening and we weren't getting any bites. Then Don Learned shows up. Don and Jeff start having all these meetings, and all of a sudden I'm getting a really bad feeling about things.

Next, they come to me and reveal the plan. Don's pretty much broke, so he can't BUY the Laff Stop outright as planned. What Jeff has decided to do is bring Don on (like another "Pete" arrangement) where he would be running the club and Jeff is still the owner. They start talking about downsizing, closing the office, firing everyone and "starting fresh". They talked about closing down Open Mic, canceling the contest forever, and kuput to all the showcase shows. I lost it. They weren't even going to let me tell my 20 some-odd employees, they wouldn't let me give them ANY notice OR compensation at all, and then they pulled MY severance package. That was the last straw.

I laid it down to Jeff in an incredibly unflattering email. (Unflattering for him... if you wanna read that too, let me know I'll be happy to share it.) Sure, it was harsh, it was pointed, and it was every "civil" attempt at chopping him off at the knees that I could come up with. I reminded him of what he would be facing if I left, reminded him that the staff is going to lynch him, and and reminded him of his "promises" that, coming from Jeff McFerrin mean absolutely squat.

He didn't even bother calling me back before he changed the locks on the club.

So, I was "fired" for standing up for what I believed in. For trying to get some severance to spread meagerly around to my employees, and for trying to get this "Loyal, Fair AGGIE" who supposedly lives by the credo of "AGGIE integrity" (maybe he should look that word up...) to stand by his word as a MAN, and as a leader. Sucks huh?

So yeah, I fell on the sword... in hopes that others would be saved, and even more would be educated. It has been nothing but detrimental to me, I mean, come on, I'm jobless, I've got a wedding to pay for in 2 months, we definitely won't be taking a honeymoon now, and on top of that my name is being smeared by someone who doesn't even deserve to speak it. So yeah, I'm speaking up to anyone who will listen. And when I go to bed each night I PRAY that nothing but misfortune befalls Jeff McFerrin, Don Learned, and the Laff Stop.

the wind.

I feel like this today...


I listen to the wind,
to the wind of my soul.
Where I'll end up well I think,
only God really knows.
I've sat upon the setting sun,
but never, never never never,
I never wanted water once.
No, never, never, never...

I listen to my words but
they fall far below.
I let my music take me where
my heart wants to go.
I swam upon the devil's lake,
but never, never never never,
I'll never make the same mistake.
No, never, never, never...

insomnia.

I remember being 7 years old and sleepless. That's how far is goes back.

Back then, it was more normal. What kid can sleep for any length of time when they're all wired up about Christmas morning? However, it is not usually like that for me. It's usually a dark restlessness. An inner twitch that electro-shocks my brain into frenzied thought and laborious worry.

Since you've been gone it's really been more along the lines of a physical pain keeping me awake. My heart uprooting from its otherwise happy state and groaning as it rolls over in my chest- deflated by your absence. Of course my mind worries about you- we've all heard the civilian horror stories of Nick Berg and the like. We are very aware of the prevalent danger.

Aside from the obvious, I have felt the never ending concern that can only come from little or no contact with you. I've tried patterning my days to coincide with yours. I know if I can stay up past midnight, you'll be awake again to correspond "live". I know around 2 or 3pm you're getting ready to go to bed. Coming in from the bases you've been at all days, settling in, and checking the web one more time before bed.

When you send me the most touching, heartfelt emails, it was all I could do to stop myself from gushing back a response. Instead, I fire back a quick "I LOVE YOU!!" An effort made if only in the hope that across the ocean we would be connected for even a moment. A gesture made to let you know "I'm here, I'm up, and I'm thinking of you at this exact moment." The little black letters on my white screen the only voice I have to you in the night...

Tonight, I lie awake, it is again after 2am. Instead of the lonely sadness that washes over me as I stare at your empty side of the bed, I am anxious. In less than 12 hours I will be in your arms once more!

I am 7 again.

Tomorrow is Christmas morning, and what awaits me on the other side of this night is far better than a pair of roller skates or a shiny new bike.

It's you. My love. Coming home to me again.

how can i tell you?

Jerry is in Kuwait, and I just keep listening to this song over and over, wishing I could talk to him. :(


"How can I tell you that I love you?
I love you, but I can't think of right words to say...
I long to tell you that I'm always thinking of you.
I'm always thinking of you, but my words just blow away...
It always ends up to one thing honey, and I can't think of right words to say.

Wherever I am, I'm always walking with you.
I'm always walking with you, but I look and you're not there.
Whoever I'm with, I'm always, always talking to you.
I'm always talking to you, I'm sad that you can't hear.
It always ends up to one thing honey, when I look and you're not there.

I need to know you,
Need to feel my arms around you.
Feel my arms around you, like sea around a shore.
Each night and day I pray, in hope that I might find you.
In hope that I might find you, because hearts can do no more...
It always ends up to one thing honey, still I kneel upon the floor.

How can I tell you that I love you?
I love you, but I can't think of right words to say.
I long to tell you that I'm always thinking of you.
I'm always thinking of you...

It always ends up to one thing honey, and I can't think of right words to say."

wonder and such.

"Your life is an occasion. Rise to it." --Mr Magorium

I have decided that it is time for me to rise. I have been waiting for someone else to DO something in my life, so that it makes sense to me. No. No more. "Wait and see" gets me nowhere. I have been "waiting and seeing" for quite some time now, and have finally figured out why.

Maybe, if I "wait and see" long enough, I won't actually have to DO anything. Eventually, someone else will come along and make a decision for me. I will never have to suffer any consequences or commit to anything important. And then, when I've "waited" long enough, and teetered on "maybe" for my fair share of time, something will fall in my lap. I've spent 26 years waiting on something to "happen." Things don't just HAPPEN. They ARE because you make them so.

Now that I have had some time to think, some quiet time in my own head, I realize this is truly the case. No one can live that way! At least, no one like me can. If I want something, I am going to go out and TAKE IT! I am not going to wait on promises that may never fabricate. I will not "hope" that things work out the way I would like them to. They won't! My dreams cannot come to fruition without some serious action on my part. They NEVER will unless I take proactive steps to make sure that they do. No one else is looking out for us. No one else cares what happens to us in the long run.

So I am. I'm done with playing games. I'm done with relying on someone else to hold up their end of the deal. I'M holding up the deal. I'm done taking peoples "word". Your word means absolutely zilch to me- I can see straight through you, you self-serving sycophant.

I am rising to the responsibilities in my own life.

I will rise to take care of me, to take care of my loved ones, to do the things I want to do, the way I want to do them, in a way that makes me happy.

I'm getting married! I'm ecstatic! Then I'm going to have babies! I'm even more ecstatic about that! Then what? I dunno... maybe we'll move to Costa Rica and lay on the beach and make souvenirs out of shells and coconuts to sell to the stupid American tourists. And learn to surf. Or maybe we'll move to Europe. Just backpack it around for a couple of years. Learn enough French so the French don't hate me, and learn how to make the best biscotti you've ever had in your LIFE, as well as an assortment of hand made pastas and the perfect cup of Earl Grey tea. Having fun, loving each other... seeing the world. It doesn't matter, because we'll be happy and we'll be IN CONTROL of our lives.

I am done with helpless. I am done with being at the mercy of others. I am done waiting for someone else to GIVE me what I need. I am done living someone else's mistakes. You made them, you deal with them. All I was trying to do was help in the first place. I will not let you walk on me because you can't stand to look at yourself in the mirror. That's not my problem. I am done trying to convince others that I am important, that I am worthy. I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU THINK!! I am seizing my life by the throat and taking control.

It's about time.

stardust.

"We are stardust, we are golden, and we’ve got to get ourselves back to the garden."

That is a quote from Joni Mitchell at Woodstock. It seems apropos for some reason right now... plus I'm never all that good at coming up with titles for my blog.

I've had some things rolling around in my head lately, I've just been trying to find a way to convey them in a way that will do my thoughts justice on paper. Isn't that always the battle of the introspective, though? So now, I'm feeling peaceful and listening to some incredible music by Israel Kamakawiwo'ole and I'm feeling brave...

I have been trying to figure out a way to determine myself as a person. I feel different on different days, and I think there should be a way to merge all these aspects of myself together in such a way that will make me feel like a whole person. I guess I've been feeling a little segmented lately. I have all these different things about me that make me who I am, but some of them are so vastly different I can't figure out how they even came to be.

I wonder how much of it is from personal influences in my life, as there have been some great ones. (I will stray from comparing the obvious family influences, that's not what I'm talking about anyway.)

Miss Cole, my 4th grade English teacher, who was the first person to show an interest in my writing and taught me the fundamentals that keep me going even today. She was such a positive person, always smiling and laughing and having fun with us. Even as a fourth grader, I always appreciated the fact that she didn't treat us like children, but like real people who were just beginning to emerge into the world. I often thought that she was the kind of person I would have wanted to be friends with... she was just that "cool" of a person, and someone I have always admired.

Ms. Williams, Senior English, who taught me to appreciate the real loves in life. She lost her husband late in their lives, and every time she thought of him she would put her hand on her face to "connect" with his memory. She became passionate about ballroom dancing, not because she was a dancer, but because it was beautiful, and magical, and her eyes sparkled every time she spoke of it, and it was incredibly INSPIRING!

John Lennon. Of course I didn't know him, but he was a man of passion, peace, innovation. He believed in a cause and educated himself in order to understand it better. He took ownership of his life and his actions and never gave up on what he believed in, not to mention the fact that he left us with some revolutionary, unprecedented music.

God, MUSIC... where to even start? The same innovation, uniquely formulated lyrics and sounds are the things that make me appreciate everything musically that I appreciate.

George Harrison (The Beatles in general really...), Clapton, Jeff Buckley, Robin Trower, Buffalo Springfield, Israel Kamakawiwo'ole, Stevie Ray Vaughn, Deep Blue Something, Eddie Vedder, Chris Cornell, Ray Charles, BB King, The Band, Leon Russell, Jim Morrison, Robert Plant, Jimi Hendrix, Jethro Tull, Ten Years After, Frampton, Damien Rice, Matisyahu, Joss Stone, Deep Purple, Cream... my GOD I could go on forever...

Wow... that was a spiritual experience just replaying through all of that. But THAT'S what I'm talking about. I feel that fire, that passion, and that REAL connection to myself and to the world around me when I'm immersed in music. And not just any music. Can't say Britney Spears elicits that response, but the true artists of the music world. The ones who are baring their souls and doing so brilliantly in the process.

I wonder how much of me has been shaped by my own experiences as well. Would I still be the same person I am now if I hadn't been the 1st born child? If I hadn't been such a "straight-laced" teenager? If I had had everything handed to me? If I hadn't been the by-product of an adult divorce? If I had married young? If I hadn't moved to Houston? If I hadn't suffered through a devastating infidelity towards me? If I hadn't shouldered the responsibility of someone else's business venture? If I hadn't found love in my best friend?

My whole life (or at least since I learned anything about it) I have wanted to be like "a hippie in the 60's." I always felt, like "man, they've got it down." Nobody cared about money, nobody cared about rules or authority, and everyone just EXISTED together. It was the ultimate life of personal freedom and open-mindedness. And I'm not talking about the revolutionaries or the drug dealers, or the protesters. I'm talking about the flower wearing, pipe smoking, van driving hippies that believed in all things loving and harmonious. What an interestingly delightful way to carry on. Somewhere in my soul I have a piece of that. I don't know if it's because of being a product of my parents, who did live that life, or if I, in a "past life" or something of the sort was there too and my subconscious remembers it... I just don't know, but it's there and a part of me yearns for it.

Recently I have been contemplating how to reach that point of absolute harmony within myself. I am infatuated with the idea of just BEING. Most of the time I feel that way anyway. I don't get stressed about stuff anymore, because as they say "The Universe is unfolding exactly as it should be." We shouldn't stress about it, we shouldn't try to shape it into something it's not. It's happening all around us, and if we're smart, we will sit back, enjoy the ride, and soak it up. I suppose some of this is no different than any other human being's need to feel some absolution in his/her life, but I've never really felt quite a pull like this before.

It makes me feel alive and at the same time extremely tranquil and totally comfortable in my own skin.

It's pretty fantastic.

stay in your lane, you jerk.

That specific phrase comes out of my mouth at LEAST twice a day. Actually, it usually sounds more like "What the fuck are you doing you stupid fuck? Stay in your fucking lane!!" LOL **I think it should be noted that I don’t actually "like" to use profanity because I think it’s one of the most ignorant ways to express yourself, but these situations make me angry beyond compare, and those are the only words that seem to fit the situation.**

Isn’t that ridiculous? It seems like in a pulsing metropolis like Houston that people would know how to drive. Not because "big city folk" are better drivers or anything, but because it’s a necessity. There are hundreds upon hundreds of thousands of people commuting here every day, and if you don’t know how to drive, then you get hurt. Or worse, you get killed. 

Despite those statistics, and the harsh reality of that situation, people around here just can’t seem to stay in their damn lane. Maybe I attract that kind of driver, but I honestly almost got run over THREE TIMES this morning on my way to work just because some ignorant imbecile can’t keep their hybrid honda/unnecessarily large truck/mini-van between the little white dashes that indicate where the lanes are! 

Why do you INSIST on swerving into my lane?
Are you DRUNK at 9am?
Do you not SEE me?
Or is it the more likely solution, that you’re just a fucking idiot, and you have no business driving in the first place?

I’m just SO TIRED of it. It literally happens EVERY SINGLE DAY. Yesterday when I was on my way home from work, I almost got sideswiped by a school bus. A SCHOOL BUS PEOPLE! These morons are being entrusted with the lives of our children, and they’re trying to kill people left and right. Let’s just say that if I hadn’t been paying close attention (as I certainly HAVE to these days, for fear of getting in a wreck every 10 seconds) I would not be writing this blog today. I would be in the hospital in traction, all because some stupid school bus driver was swerving all over the road. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen what a bus can do to a compact car, but it’s just not pretty.

What is the deal here???

borrowed excerpt.

My friend Allison posted this on her blog & I really liked it. I think people take things in their lives for granted every day. Once in a while, it doesn’t hurt to step back and re-evaluate your situation from a different perspective.

Enjoy...


"There’s an old story about Jeb and the flood that tells us something important about faith.

Old Jeb was trapped on his roof as the floodwaters were rising around his house. As he sat there, a neighbor passed by in his rowboat, offering to take him to higher ground. "Don’t worry about me," said Jeb. "I have faith: The Lord will protect me." A while later, the floodwaters still rising, a rescue squad arrived in a powerboat and ordered Jeb to evauate. "No need," Jeb insisted. "My faith is strong. I’ll be fine." A few hours later, when the waters reached the eaves, a National Gaurd helicopter hovered overhead and lowered a line. But Jeb wouldn’t grab hold. "The Lord will provide," he said. Not too long after, Jeb’s house went under, and Jeb with it. When he arrived at the pearly gates, he was none too pleased. "Lord, I had such faith in you!" Jeb cried. "How could you have abandoned me?" "Abandon you?" replied the Lord. "What are you talking about? I sent you a rowboat, a powerboat and a helicopter!"

Like many of us, Jeb had great faith, but it was a faith built only upon miracles that come with flashes of light and trumpet blasts. In truth, God often responds to our faith in humbler ways. It might be a kind driver who lets us merge when we’re stressed from sitting in heavy traffic. Or it could be a newspaper article that describes a support group we desperatly need. Or perhaps it comes in a song on the radio that brings us a cherished, fortifying memory. Each day, angels visit the doorsteps of the faithful, leaving gifts that quietly offer God’s grace, comfort and protection. All we have to do is reconize them and pick them up."


The moral of the story:
Don’t let the opportunities in life pass you by, seize them! You may never get them again...

comics.

To all Houston comics:

I have been receiving emails, myspace messages, and angry voicemails from comics all over Houston and the surrounding areas regarding this Montreal thing tonight. Please allow me to clarify, so that you all understand the situation here:

Unfortunately, there are only 10 spots on the showcase this year. To be honest, I've been getting alot of emails about tonight and I just don't know where to start. 

Montreal has a pretty tight squeeze on this thing. They came to me and asked me to put together a showcase for an audition, and then they came back and told me that they had this list of people that they wanted to see on the showcase. So... it was kind of a weird situation. Some of the people on the list I don't even know how they know about, but that really only left me with a couple of choices to fill.

If not to make things more complicated, they also provided me a criteria in my selection process, further limiting my choices, and putting me in a bad position with alot of the comics. (Believe me, I've heard from plenty of you to know that you're all upset.)

I'm trying to make sure that everyone understands the situation, because they all seem to be mad at me, and I'm really not the one pulling the strings in this case. This is unfortunately, one of those times when I just have to come to grips with the fact that I can't please everyone all the time. 

What I AM trying to emphasize to everyone is that he is supposed to be here all night, AND Colleen McGarr is coming in town with him so it would be to everyones benefit to be here for open mic. There's always the off chance that he'll see something he likes and want to get in touch further. Colleen is one of our booking agents (Rich Miller's partner) and she also works with the Austin club, and several other venues across the country. She is a very powerful contact to have.

Obviously I can't make any promises because I just really don't know what's going to happen, but it certainly couldn't hurt to come and also be prepared with press kit, etc. If nothing else, chatting with Colleen is always beneficial too. :)

My apologies again,

Rachael :)

everything happens for a reason.

Candice sent me a GREAT quote this week, and it's got me thinking about something that I do all too much...

"Worry does not empty tomorrow of its sorrow; it empties today of its strength." --Corrie Ten Boom

I worry. I worry about my future, I worry about my job, I worry about whether or not I'm feeding my dog enough. Mostly I worry that I'm making the right decisions in my life from day to day. I'm just a worrier by nature, I guess. I told her this, and this is what she told me:

Cando: "Well stop it! :) Planning out of slight anxiety is one thing, worrying when nothing can be done (and knowing that worry has NEVER actually prevented anything) is just insanity."

She's right, I know that. I guess that's why she's going to be a psych doctor! In any case, I'm working on it... But I would like to hear everyone's thoughts! And how in the heck do you train yourself not to worry?? Am I supposed to just assume that I'm always doing the right thing and making the right choices just because I'm making them?

Hmmm...

too late for apologies.

I ask you kindly not to read this blog if you are not planning on reading the whole thing. Skimming through will not allow you to understand what's going on here, and will take everything out of context. AND I wrote this over the span of 2 days, so sequentially it may not make sense. The benefit was Sunday Feb. 17th.

Thanks!



Before I get started writing anything, I think that it should be said that I am aware of the fact that I am about to sound like a world class piece of shit, but I just can't help the way I feel. Nobody can.

First of all, those of you who may not know, I run the club. I know everything that goes on there, all the time, and EVERYTHING that happens there only happens because of the things I do on a day to day basis. If it's happening, it's because I let it happen, I orchestrated it, and I'm behind it. I'm the boss, I'm in charge, and I'm the top of the totem pole. Understand?

Ok, so I just came home from a charity event we were hosting at the club tonight. It was for a foundation that I am involved with that is very near and dear to my heart. (The One Step Closer Foundation- It benefits those with Cerebral Palsy and the like.) I have been involved with kids with Cerebral Palsy for over 10 years now, from therapy, to office work, to changing diapers and wiping snotty noses and drool. Anyway, this foundation was created by my friend Jacob and I am on his board of directors. We have been working together on various ideas for months now, trying to come up with some worthwhile events to raise some money, raise awareness, and get us prepared to host a big Charity Poker Tournament in Vegas within the next year or so. 

About 3 months ago, I offered to use the club for the first event. It seemed like a practical choice, being that my involvement in both the club and the charity would make it fairly easy to overlap the two. So we decided on a date, I called in some favors from a couple of comics, and we were on our way. We decided to do some catering, bring in a DJ, and have a little reception beforehand to thank everyone for coming. 

I got Jerry involved, and he was nice enough to do some serious promoting with his radio show with Outlaw Dave, online with Outlaw Nation, and all over myspace. (what a sweetie!) Of course, I had the Laff Stop website, the Laff Stop myspace and the Laff Stop emailer blasting this thing all over Houston as well... every little bit helps! The Chronicle got interested at some point, and got with Jacob & his family. They later came to the club & I spent about 4 hours talking with them, taking pictures with them, etc. etc.

After looking at several caterers, I found that we were not going to be able to do catering for under $1000. Well, since it's a charity event, seems kind of silly to pay $1000 for food, when the object is to RAISE money, not spend it. So I decided to do it myself. Jacob wanted to stay under $500, so I ordered the food from my food vendor, saving us over $600 and spent all day Sunday cooking everything MYSELF and getting ready for the event. 

A huge thanks definitely needs to go out to the owner of Buddha Lounge who donated a few bottles of Smirnoff Vodka for the reception, DJ Stacy Stylez who flew in from New York to bump some tunes, and Albert Im who came in from Austin to participate in the comedy portion of the benefit.


Now here comes the unfortunate part:

*So far we've established that this benefit was:
my idea, 
my venue, 
my comics, 
my staff, 
my ticket selling website, 
my email blasts, 
my fiancee doing radio promoting, 
I paid for the catering,
I did the catering, 
and I paid for my design guy to design the fliers
AND I had the fliers printed and distributed.

Continuing on:

The Chronicle story finally came out on Friday. There was only one sentence mentioning the Laff Stop & they failed to include my headliner in the promotions. Nothing from me, nothing from the club, no pictures, missing headshots, & pretty much no content on the benefit at all. In essence, these people wasted hours of my time for nothing. (And those of you who know me, know that I have VERY LITTLE time to spare these days.) Needless to say, I was pretty miffed. The story was pitched to me as a promo for the benefit, but not only did they not really promo the benefit after wasting all of my time, but what little they did promo, they didn't get right. 

Now, I know most of you don't know much about "the business" but rule of thumb: you don't promo your headliner, your headliner WILL pull the date, and therefore you have no more show! Luckily, the headliner was Jerry. Jerry's moral convictions, and the fact that his word is as good as gold kept him from totally bailing on the show. (And it probably doesn't hurt that he's my fiancee, and he would do it for me if I asked him to.) But anyone else would have pulled the date and this blog would stop right here.

The unfortunate part is that it does not stop here.

I decided on Sunday to swallow my pride, put on a smile, and just make the best of it. I spent all day running around getting ready for this thing, all afternoon cooking the food for the reception, and getting everything in line for the event. At the club, I'm handling the food and the waitresses, making sure everyone is well educated on the hours d'vours, and fielding questions for everyone and their dog in between. 

Finally, I have spoken to everyone, thanked everyone for coming, settled everyone in their places, and we're ready to start the show. I'm thinking I'll hang around and see how it goes, and enjoy finally being off my feet and finally not having to play point for an hour or so.

Mason goes on stage to emcee, and takes Jacob with him. They proceed to thank everyone and their dog for their participation and help. Everyone but me. Then he proceeds to tell everyone that this whole thing would not be possible without Jacob, that this was his brilliant idea, that he worked so hard on getting everything put together, and was 99.9% responsible for all facets of making this benefit a success. 

EXCUSE ME? WHAT??

I left. 

It was all I could do to not break down in tears right there in the showroom. I have busted my ass over the course of the last 3 months, I've called in all kinds of favors, put in over $6,000 worth of goods and services, and not only do I not even get a thank you, but Jacob gets to take credit for all my hard work? I was crushed. 

I just couldn't stay. 

And I don't believe I will be working with them or even speaking to them for quite some time.

P.S. I later found out that this was all a "school project" for Jacob. I hope all my hard work got him an "A".

obligatory ambition.

It's Saturday night and I'm at work. 
Am I supposed to be? No. 
Did anyone ask me to be? No. 

I have this really weird feeling of obligation to be here like ALL the time. I'm not sure if it's because I'm just ambitious and I really want to make sure that everything happening under my roof is in order, OR if it's because I feel like I HAVE to. Like I'm less of a person, less of a professional or less of a leader if I don't show up. 

After a night like last night I think "Well, I don't really need to be here, they're fine, and they can handle whatever comes up." Then I come into work tonight and no one is prepared. I feel like the mother hen barking out orders, making everyone get up on their toes because they sure weren't on them when I popped in.

Those are the things that worry me. Like, what if I finally get comfortable enough to the point where I can just stay home and enjoy my evening and everything goes awry? Then I guess it's my fault for not being here and making sure that all my little ducks are in a row.

Hmmm...

closure.

I had some really insightful thoughts about having closure in life, and thought I should write them down before I forget what I said:


I know there are plenty of people out there who don't believe in the whole concept of closure, like it's some hippie concept of alternative thinking or whatever. I, on the other hand, find that I need closure, I think it's an imperative part of growing as a person. 

If I don't have closure with a particular person or situation, I am undoubtedly going to have a difficult time moving past it and forward in my life. For me, gaining that closure is a mental obstacle that is conquered. Once I have closure, I can completely shut down the situation in my mind and move forward in my life. It/that person becomes a valuable part of my life and who I am today, but is no longer a weight in my mind or my heart.

Bad relationships are a great example of that. There are all these hurtful, damaging things that have happened in the past, and that's all I can remember about that time. I've found that making closure with that person or situation lets me let go of all the bad or hurtful things I may be harboring, and relish the time/person for the role they played in my life. It's much easier to look back on your life with no regrets and no animosity when you can put those things to rest.

Over the last several months I have had many opportunities to really gain some closure on some looming ghosts in my past, and I feel SO much better about starting the new year, and a new chapter in my life because of it!


(That explanation is nowhere near as eloquent as it was when I spit it out the first time in real converstaion, but I think you get the idea.)

update.

I just got a call from MD Anderson to let me know that I don't have breast cancer!! Yay!!

They do however, want me to come in again for a different kind of biopsy, because they are trying to determine if they need to remove the tumor, so I'm still kinda waiting around on that part.

But I definitely feel good about taking the lesser of two evils. I'd rather them cut off part of my boob than to have to battle cancer. So... WHEW! I'm definitely relieved about that!!

tough day.

Today I had to do something that I never thought I would have to do. I visited MD Anderson Cancer Center as a patient...


On November 22nd I found a lump (yes, THAT kind of lump) in my chest. It's a wonder I could find it at all... ba dum ch. Sorry, I make lame jokes to help me feel better when I'm stressed.

Anyway, I went to see my regular Dr. and he didn't seem alarmed so I went about my business. After my new insurance kicked in in December I made an appointment for Jan. 2nd to have it checked out by the "pros" at MDA...

Three different doctors gave me an ultrasound, I had 2 different mammograms, and they took 5 or 6 biopsy samples of the site for testing. 5 hours worth of doctors and stuff, and then I got to go to work. 

It was a really surreal experience, and I think that I was so stunned by the whole thing, that I wasn't really absorbing what was happening while I was there. I was really disappointed that I was alone. Of course, I had no idea it was going to be such a huge thing, or I would have taken Jerry with me for moral support. I thought it was going to be a quick in and out visit. It's a pretty bad feeling to be alone in that situation trying to wrap your head around something like that all by yourself. 

Long story short: I have a tumor. Is it cancer? I don't know... and I won't know for a few days. Will they have to remove it? Don't know that either yet...

BUT, I will keep you guys posted. :)