The Brilliance of Resilience

     At the risk of showing my age, I will be relating a brief flash in time during my fourth grade year - approximately 27 years ago. Fourth grade was held in a metal building outside of the brick school and I'm not sure the criteria for being the class that was relegated to the metal building. Still though, having to go between the brick and metal buildings for lunch felt like a really naughty respite in the midday (we lived in Appalachia and I didn't get out much). Especially for a kid like me that spent a lot of time in the classroom with the teacher during recess. I am digressing.      When it was raining or when my teacher had probably had it, we played, "Head's Up, Seven Up!" I've found the rules, Seven students stand in front of the class. The rest of the students put their heads on their desks. The seven then move about and each touches a student. Once touched, a student sticks his or her thumb up. Then the seven say “heads up seven up!” The st...

Like any good queer, I've been thrust into astrology with increased passion. I blame memes. I am playfully (and not really) obsessed with the idea of my own Sagittarian nature, even if most rational people find Astrology's resurgence in popularity to be pointless and nauseating. Something that struck me about the idea of the Sagttiarian (if you've made it this far and hate astrology, please keep reading...if only because you love me and believe that I'll bury the lead like I always do and get to some "profound" statement) is their ability to express grim realities in blunt and honest ways in one breath while continuing to enjoy what life has to offer in another. Kind of like a, "we're fucked but it doesn't mean we can't go RIGHT NOW and get tacos out of this gas station," kind-of-way. Do we realize that the realities of the world don't necessarily negate all that it has to offer in the meantime? Or, is it the true addiction to freedom...

You have done some good work, Dorothy. But, not enough people like you. I've been in 7852 conversations about who the best Golden Girl is, who is the favorite golden girl , who is the wisest Golden Girl, etc. So many say Dorothy Zbornak. They say it because Dorothy's wit is acerbic and smart. Being in the blow back of a Dorothy insult feels alive and the recipient is ready to create their own Dorothy: their own blow back, and their own piece of the cheesecake - even if just for a moment in time while resuming back to their Rose or their Blanche. But, no one actually likes  all of Dorothy. Dorothy is the last to have the date. Dorothy looks like Fess Parker. Dorothy is the one that has the fewest friends and the most painful stories about love, risk and vulnerability. Dorothy is the one that is the butt of the jokes about everything - but intellect and morality (except for sleeping with that married guy. Even Dorothy gets the blues). She is the subject of ridicule in ...

One of the many tasks that fall under the umbrella of my work responsibilities used to include sending files to K. K was a diminutive woman with cat photos and drawings in her cube. The files that went to K were labeled with her name over and over and over - her name becoming synonymous with her part of the process - the hole to kick the work to. I got to know K a little bit - brought her some Kombucha and chatted. She liked lavender. I remember K staring at me blankly when I openly wept at the work cafeteria's televisions blaring Hilary Clinton's concession speech. We didn't agree, but we still worked together well. K lost her job to an outsource but stayed on longer than the rest - she had institutional knowledge that wasn't respected, but respected enough to buy her time. She shared about what she'd do afterwards. It was a superficial conversation about gardening and resting. I knew that I'd likely never see her again.Two weeks ago, I found out that K d...

I remember very vividly - a moment when I told two women at work, "Dreams are for rich people." It wasn't the ravings of an angry woman that was paid sixty cents on a man's dollar. It wasn't the depressed response of a sick brain. It is a commandment. It is how a pragmatic mind copes with the realities of the time while still striving for the most (to be the most) - at any given moment. As a child, I made up a story about my origins. A child that traveled seven-thousand miles via hot air balloon from India to Western Pennsylvania. Now, I am vividly authentic about what actually transpired through yesterday. I do my best to see these occurrences for what they are and not just how they made me feel while pairing them with the actualities of what my life can become as the person that I am now. That's mutable. That's nothing and everything. In the words of my therapist who heard it from a healer - it will all end badly. Meaning: we'll die. The peop...

I love the American Maid character on, "The Tick." The Tick Wiki provided a brief description of the character, American Maid is quite noble in character, and unlike most of the "good" characters featured in the series, she is actually relatively effective as a superhero. Having no superpowers, she relies on her Olympic-level trained acrobatic skills. This is hilarious No real superpowers but effective and noble, who could ask for anything more? Making the most of what life deals. Totally self-made maid. I read something similar this morning in a push notification not too long ago (I need to turn that shit off): Kylie Jenner's about to be the youngest, "self made," billionaire. Forbes says she made $900 million from Kylie Cosmetics. I am in a weird and sad place. I feel the old demons of jealous and distrust creeping in and find that there is so much evidence to let them take up residence. It feels like the constant bomba...

When I hurt myself really badly, I pass out. It's happened several times in my life. A wave of nausea sweeps over me and and suddenly I wake up on the floor not knowing how much time has passed.  Today, I twisted my shoulder, recognized the feeling and when I went down, I hit my head on my bathtub so hard I have given birth to a giant bump on my forehead that is probably going to grow a face at any moment. I woke up naked and dazed, crawled over to sit on the toilet and called Mike. Then, promptly passed out again as soon as he answered...ripping down the shower curtain. If you're going to do something, you really need to do it, I guess. I staggered to bed and lay there for a minute talking and then I felt embarrassed about the whole thing. Not because I pass out when I feel extreme pain - that's just my body's way of dealing with it. But because here is yet another thing that requires telling people something unpleasant about myself that will require extra maint...

I'm no fanatic but I do like, "My Favorite Murder." I have spent many road trips alone in the car listening to the details revealed by two women that know where empathy and humor find their place in relaying these events to a captivated audience. Now that there is almost definitive conviction of The Golden State Killer, Georgia and Karen seem to be working through their feelings about how this person terrorized their towns and their state and what it meant to have that pall cast over portions of their own history. Both of them, because of their proclivity to be interested in topics like these, have deeply-rooted ideas about how these unsolved cases change the landscape and remove the safety from behind every collective corner. When I went to see Georgia and Karen live it was interesting to see the collective gasps of the crowd when gruesome details are revealed - but not many gasps came or will come from me. When I think about how people are surprised at the things that...

I went to visit my college roommate a few weeks ago and we were chatting about all of the things that we don't chat about via text message or email. One of them was my current search of understanding why I cannot really bond with people. That because now that I am not worried about my constant survival, I can think about things that were, "nice-to-haves." Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, she commented. When I googled this pyramid image, I laughed to myself about the realities of my journey. About how long I have been on the road to the mid-point of a triangle whose pinnacle is touted and boasted by every selfie-loving yogi Instagram can hold. I guess, maybe, I have this level of gratitude that I can think about this at all. I feel that there is this sense of having the luxury to be self-reflective and only a truly privileged turd would lament about being able to be so safe to be so utterly self-aware. And yet...here I am (this is the part where I would bow deeply and...

I have been an inpatient in a mental health facility three times in my life. All times I was put there at my own request. These hospitalizations have cost money and they've ultimately cost credibility and respect. When you tell someone that you've been hospitalized or if they find out on their own, two things happen. First, they tell you how brave you are for dealing with your issues head-on and creating a better life for yourself. Second, they shift uncomfortably in place and immediately register you in the "loose cannon," category in their head that is usually reserved for street wanderers and senile elderly relatives. You become and brave liability. You could snap out at any given moment. People that have never spent time in a mental health facility have somehow become the experts of how it works, too. Armchair Psychiatrists will spout the latest thing that they've heard or read - and they'll pander to the idea that mental health disorders are a sig...

The snow has been relentless in the last few weeks and I have spent more time in one place that I have for years. I finally unpacked my bulky vintage cosmetics case that I lived out of for two years and at first it was a momentous occasion that seemed to signify that I was laying roots, but the more I find myself in residential West Virginia without a destination for an afternoon of gallivanting or burning calories in the sun, the more I realize that I must face the realities of my own geography and its imprint on my way of thinking. And how there are many binds here. The idea that I received a DNA test as a gift (as many people have) is interesting to me because it turned into more than just a fun way to find out if the rumors that you are Native American are true (my rumors are not substantiated, by the way. Got Dang Mitochondrial DNA!). Ancestry found that I had a first cousin that I did not know in their database. It didn't seem completely out of the ordinary that the bastard...

I got my parents out of the house on budget-priced Tuesday to see the newest adaptation of, "Murder on the Orient Express." My mother loves Johnny Depp. My father doesn't like to be left behind. I love Hercule Poirot. How I felt about the film is kind of irrelevant to what I was thinking about after it was over. There's a scene in the very beginning (and I really wish that I could find the exact quote) where Branagh's Poirot talks about how maddening it is to instantly see every detail about every situation and know what is right and what is wrong. It is a foreshadow to his eventual walk from the train and from a group of broken people complicit in a murder. Although David Suchet's portrayal of Poirot's moral choice in the Masterpiece Theater version is, in my opinion, so much more devastating - I understand Branagh's rewrite of a more blatant emotional ending for (to be honest) less emotionally sophisticated audience. Poirot's moral conviction...

When I was a pre-teen I watched the 1954 Marlon Brando film, "Desiree," and didn't realize that I did. That happened to me often while watching a Saturday afternoon film. I didn't realize I was watching, "The Godfather," for the first time until I was at least an hour into it and wondered why I couldn't keep my eyes off of the screen.  I was hardly interested in the weirdly overly-hyped but unrealized love affair of Napoleon Bonaparte and Desiree (what a little turd, amirite?), but was taken totally with Michael Rennie's portrayal of Jean-Baptiste Bernadotte (known historically as Charles XIV John of Sweden). This film isn't great (the costumes are wonderful to see when you're living on a farm in rural Pennsylvania, though), but I found myself thinking of this character days after the film ended. I think I felt that there was this sense of injustice regarding the lack of acknowledgement of the nature of this character and the...

I went to a meeting a few weeks back where I met a myriad of people that I had only previously worked with via phone. And when they would see me, there was this brief pause at my face, my appearance...until finally one of the said, "You look so young to know so many things." WORD . I get accused of serial youth at least once a week - with estimates pegging me often a decade younger than I am - the teenage girl painting my nails, the co-mixees at the stuffy mixers, the men I flag down in parking lots to take photos of their vintage cars...just whomever, I guess. It has made me fascinated by the idea and perception of youth. I usually give a flippant response about looking young because I do not have children but that cannot be it. Women of all ages have children, right? I want to grill these givers of compliments and understand their motives and reasoning. I want to look a gift horse in the mouth. But then, are they compliments? Or, do I give the air of naivety or immaturi...