I spent the day listening to my coworker talk about her husband and the life they had together. He died three years ago today after a lengthy illness. There were smiles, tears and moments of silence where we both thought of something in our lives to talk about. It's amazing how one life can make such a difference. We live beyond ourselves. One smile leads to another, one simple gesture leads to more. My dad would give you the shirt off of his back. Many times he did. so many little things that I remember. Taking strangers out to dinner when we traveled to France. Hell, buying food for a group of teens that were kind to us on the beach. Taking in my older sister's friends and their mom when they needed a place to stay. We traveled many places, met many people and I learned so much in the short time we spent together. After talking to my coworker I mentioned how I hope to have some sort of lasting presence on someone like this. I don't need to have my name in lights. I don't need to have a library named after me. My only wish is to have someone looking back and talking about how I made a difference in their life.

Jake was talking about some thread on a forum he posts on that discussed emails which went out to loved ones in the event of a plane crash, etc... It reminded me of when I was young. My dad would put a dollar in the life insurance machines at the air port when traveling. They would send a copy to the people listed in it. I opened the mail to see something about death, plane crash and money. I can't even remember what it said. All I remember is having a complete fit over the phone to dad about it. We're talking tears, crying and 'please don't die' comments. Yes, I was quite an emotional child. Dad never did that again. It's funny how something random would bring up a memory from so long ago. Ironically a lot of my memories involve me pitching a complete fit about something and dad 'coming to the rescue'. *looks at Jake* Not a word....

Ah memories. I remember driving down Sunset boulevard while dad drove his Lincoln Continental and blasting Donna Summers' Bad Girl on the 8-track player. It seems as if today has been a walk down memory lane in my office. It started off with Mr. Nosy showing me photos of him back in high school and talking about all his wild times. Then we moved onto music. It ended up with the two of us singing old AC/DC songs as loud as we could while doctors walked by in disbelief. To him it was a song to sing... to me it was a part of my life.

When I was thirteen I moved into a friend's house after my dad died. Her parents were strict Catholics. Her, notosmuch. We'd come home from Junior high and her mom would be sitting on the couch. The Bible was open and she was ready to preach. Afterwards we'd go for a walk and then go into her bedroom where we'd blast AC/DC's Back in Black album on her record player. I swear I knew the words to every song. We wore that LP out. That was the one album I got throughout the years. LP, casette, CD and MP3s. They never get old. Maybe because it helped me through a tough time. It's hard to think about death and dying when you have Hell's Bells being played loud enough to make the bed vibrate.

I remember the first time I heard Oingo Boingo. I had just 'escaped' my old boyfriend's house. Three month's of abuse ended by a baseball bat. I went to a friend's house and he let me sleep in his and his brother's room. Only a Lad was playing when I entered the room. We talked about life, why his brother's girlfriend felt the urge to rip his back to shreds during sex and New Wave. I left with a new favorite band and a friend who vowed to make sure I was safe.

Music has always been a part of my life. But it's more than just songs. They are wrapped around memories, like the music that reminds you of a certain scene in a movie. Just like a certain beat will make you smile and think of Jaws the start of a song will make me smile and think of where I've come from... and where it brought me. While I may not be up and all the new bands or even the top song in the weekly count down... I can tell you that AC/DC saved my life and Oingo Boingo helped me to start a new one.

I am trying to get this poison out of my body. This negative emotion that keeps tearing away at me. This anger that keeps pushing down on me. This jealousy that keeps crushing me. It's so hard to. I don't have closure. I don't think I'm quite ready for that yet. Considering the heavy dosage of PMS that managed to sneak up on me this week I don't think it would help at all. But there will be a point where I bury this weight that seems to be coming at me from all sides and making me feel like a punching bag. What I manage to suppress in my mind only comes out full force in my dreams. Last night I was up at 2am again, riding the stationary bike to try and tire myself out. I just wanted to sleep. I didn't want to think. Didn't want to worry. I didn't want to FEEL.

When I was younger I went to counseling after my dad died. I was angry. I had hate in my heart. I had tried to end my life and didn't even want to live. After being bounced around I found a counselor who managed to help me. She had me do something that ultimately released me from the anger and pain and moved me forward to where I am today. First she told me to close my eyes...

I am walking down a road. As I walk rocks kick up from beneath me into my hands. The farther I walk the larger the rocks becomes. Soon it is very large and very heavy. Up in the distance I see that the road splits. On the left side the ground becomes rocky. If I continue down this road the rock will become unbearable. The ground has dips and sharp rocks and I will fall. The right side is smooth and grass is growing. The grass grows taller and the road makes a sharp turn up a mountain. At the top I can see butterflies flitting about and hear birds chirping. I will not be able to climb the mountain with the rock in my hands. The rock is all of my emotions. The anger, the hate, the fear. While it seems like something everyone would want to be rid of, it's also a part of who I am. Now I am at the split in the road and must choose. The left side is what I am used to. The right side will be hard and I will fall at times. But in the end I will find the peace that I seek. Now I must decide... do I put the rock down forever? Do I let go of the hatred, and move on to happiness... or hold on to my past and follow a knowing path of more pain?

I remember visualizing myself putting down the rock. Tears streamed down my face. My mother, my family, people who abused me. I remember actually feeling the weight being lifted off of me. I've never looked back. I even found my way to the meadow above and relaxed while the butterflies flitted about. It took me a long time. I don't even want to think about where I would be if I hadn't met that counselor.

I know I'm not at the path yet. I can almost see it in the distance. There are some things I need to deal with (kick up into my arms) before I place this rock down. Soon I will come upon it and make a choice. *smiles* I look forward to laying in the cool grass again.

Apparently my spending spree the last couple of weeks put me in a bit of a bind. Not a bad one, but just enough to not be able to afford a nice hotel for a few days. *sigh* Luckily Jake loves me and is more than happy with my backup plan. Movies on Friday, Santa Barbara on Saturday and then Houston's on Sunday. W00000!

Friday night Jake and I are going to dinner. Afterwards we're off to see The Nightmare Before Christmas in 3-D at the El Capitan theater. I fucking love that place. The first time I saw that movie (sans the 3-D) was when it first came out at the El capitan. I remember a hilarious intro, so I am hoping for something similar. It will be nice to walk around together and just enjoy each other. On Saturday we're off to Santa Barbara to visit one of the Missions. I loved going there the last time so we should have a blast. Then Sunday, his birthday, I am hoping to take him to Houston's. That is, unless we think of another fun place to go. *grins* I am just so excited to be able to hang out and enjoy the different places together. I've been holed up in the apartment for far too long.

Last night Jake and I watched the debate and he got to see a whole new side of me. The angry Democrat. The profanities flew as McCain sunk deeper and deeper into his old routine. After the initial bumps of him thinking I was miserable I explained that he hasn't seen me watch these sorts of things... but this is pretty normal. I remember as a child seeing my dad yell at the television while watching the game. He'd sit on that horrible brown leather couch and eat peanuts while yelling about how the umpire was an idiot. I'd usually say something like "Did they yell back, dad?" before getting the look. Either that or look at the peanuts that had fallen onto his hairy chest and say, "Saving for later, dad?". Sacrasm? *smiles* He taught me well...

I'm going to ramble so the time frames are probably off. One can only hold so much emotional baggage at a time. I tend to purge mine as often as I can and with it goes particulars such as dates, etc... Details are lost into the abyss, forgotten except for a few slight pains every once in a while when a memory collides with one forgotten.

My life has not been an easy one. Lets move past the childhood drama... and stop for a moment to the turning point of my life. My dad died when I was 13. He was my world. I was lost without him. I felt like I was in a freefall and did stupid shit... attempting suicide a few times and generally making an ass out of myself. Without him I felt like my life was over and I wanted to die. After finding a counselor that truly understood me I finally found some rocky ground. A few stumbles and some bumps and bruises later I came upon the road to my future and walked it... alone. Without my dad the family I had were like strangers to me. We each grappled to find some footing, just in different directions. My last real memory of my brother was when I was 16. I had tried so hard to stay in touch. He was young and angry that I left. After leaving each visit in tears my then boyfriend finally sat me down and said I couldn't continue to do this to myself. I needed to let go and let him come to me. I had one last meeting where I told him that I loved him but wouldn't be coming back. That he could always reach me, but I couldn't continue to reach out like this. When I left I felt like my family died. And really... they did. My sisters and I were never close. I won't even go into the other family members.I saw family members a few more random times (movie parking lot, etc...) and at age 19 I finally severed all ties. It was after a wedding, believe it or not. I had talked to my older cousin and she invited me to go to her wedding. I took a chance. I was so nervous it was sick. My younger cousin picked me up and I tried to fit in. The memories overwhelmed me. After sitting behind a couple of Jewish women gossiping about me of all things (you gotta love the old biddies) I said I wanted to leave. My younger cousin refused to drive me and I hitched a ride, never to see them again. Any of them. I tried to talk to my brother and even wrote a long letter while he was in Desert Storm. No response. I moved on.

A few years back I got a call from my older sister. She started asking me all sorts of odd questions. One was 'What do I tell people when they ask if you have family?' I told her the truth. I say I was orphaned. Mom signed off all rights to me long before I became an Emancipated Minor. I carried the paper around as I moved. Except for the two weeks that I stayed with her before I was emancipated (boy that was fun) she washed her hands of me legally and as far as I knew emotionally. She asked to get together and I said as long as she understood it wasn't for anything else. I had no interest in getting back with that family. I had moved on. At the time I was on the defense from some of her questions and didn't understand why she popped up to ask them years later. What she failed to tell me was mom was having or had surgery to remove her eye which had a tumor in it. A few months later I got another call... from my brother. Mom had died. Years of anger. Years of trying to forget. Years of stumbling over explanations and spending holidays alone. In the end I was left wondering if I would have placed my feelings aside for at least one last call. I never got the chance.

Yesterday I checked my email and saw a friend request from Facebook. It was my brother. He said, "Hey there was wondering if you wanted to start the process of trying to be a complete family again. I think enough time has passed that we all should give it a shot." I sat there in shock. I didn't know what to say. I clicked on his profile and saw a picture of him and his baby. He looked so much like dad. I cried. Then I responded quickly (I had someone in the room) and left it at that. Last night Jake and I were laying down and spoke about it for a while. His beautiful wife, how much he looked like dad (Jake saw it right away) and his beautiful baby girl. Then I looked at him and said, "Oh wow. That means I'm an aunt." *smiles*

I went through my cubicle yesterday and realized there's a whole lotta crap saved that I don't need. Everything from joke clippings to reminders of appointments... from 2001. I've started clearing out all the extra things that I haven't used in forever. Every once in a while I'll come across something I just can't part with... like my letter giving notice to my last position.

Working in the Operating Room was a blast. The hours sucked balls. I worked almost every weekend (13 days in a row then one day off... then six days in a row) and holidays. I worked 8 hours on the weekday, and 12 on the weekends/holidays. Seniority meant dick in that area. Then there was my boss. I trained her for the position and when she felt she knew enough (which she didn't) she started raining hell on all those who weren't on her good side. Eventually that included me. At my 10 year mark at UCLA I decided I needed a change. I wanted Monday through Friday hours. My dating was erratic and it was time to find someone special. It took me two years to find something I liked... and that was only with a friend suggesting it. By then I went from the OR's golden girl to a fuck up (in my boss's eyes). She wrote a less than stellar evaluation and I thought I was fucked. Luckily my current boss saw through the personal issue and gave me a chance. For that I will be forever grateful. When I told the higher up, a doctor who knew of all the crap and supported me privately (which didn't do shit when it came down to it) he said, "You know the OR will fall to it's knees, don't you?" I told him, "Yes, but maybe that's just what it needs". With that I wrote out my two week notice. A simple "My last day in this department will be" kinda thing. Nothing pleasant. No thank yous. More of a "fuck you" than anything. My new boss called and said "You're hired, but I need to talk to your current boss." No problem. I put her on hold and turned to the bitch and simply handed her the note, saying "My last day will be in two weeks. My new boss wants to speak with you. She's on line two." It was a burn that I felt good about. Regardless of how she treated me for the next two weeks... that day was awesome. I was given a goodbye cake that showed up on my desk and sat there... because hardly anyone knew. I left in tears... because I really did love my job. Two weeks after that my old boss was given two choices: Be demoted or fired. It took four people to do my job. Something I'm really proud of. I think I'll keep this letter... just because. *smiles*

Lately I've been remembering random moments in my life. A date with a guy where I learned he kept condoms in the steering wheel center and decided to prank him and open it. My dad dumping water and ice over the shower top when I didn't lock the door. Walking in the mountains with some friends and taking my top off (it was hot) and another friend happily following suit. Riding to Big Bear with an old boyfriend and meeting up with some of his friends. A friend riding through my pink bicycle when I was a child and it literally snapping in half. It had a sparkly banana seat and pink ribbons sticking out of the handles. Girly in every way.

All these memories... and yet I forget something Jake told me a week a go. Or my boss sent me a month ago. I don't know if it's because of the medication I'm on, the vitamins I'm not getting or me being lazy. Whatever it is... I hope it's a passing phase. Still... I am enjoying the memories. :)

Living in California has made me quite the woose. Last night I was sleeping when I heard some loud banging noises. My first thought was that someone was messing with the garbage cans. The room lit up and another loud boom hit. Thunder storm. No rain, just thunder and lightning. I went to the living room to check on the kittens. First storm for them. Then a really loud one hit. I said, "Fuck this shit" and jumped right back into bed. Jake had woken up to that one. We just listed to the storm for a bit, then drifted back to sleep. How odd that a grown person is transformed to a six year old when a little weather happens. Suddenly I was back in my old bedroom, with covers up to my ears just waiting for it to pass. When I'm up thunderstorms don't bother me as much. It's something about being in bed when it's happening that creeps me out.

I remember having a big window as a child. It was the normal window with a triangle of glass above it. We had these tall trees out front that swayed in the winds and made ghoulish shadows with it's branches. One time the Santa Ana winds were really bad and the 'monsters' looked as if they were coming to get me. I Laid in my pink canape bed, covers up to my ears and watched every sway. Suddenly there was a loud *snap* and the monster flew across the room. This sent me into a fit of screams that sent my dad dashing into the room buck naked. I slept in their bed for a week after that. Even seeing the tree laying across the driveway wasn't any consolation. There were two more ghouls out there and I wasn't about to be eaten by them. You'd never think I'd grow up to love horror films like I do.

I hate when relationships end. Friends or more, it's so draining. The acceptance of it is by far the worst. Just when you thought you had come to terms with it the reality hits you. You will never talk to that person again. They're gone. It's like a death. Things that seemed so funny now are just reminders of an inside joke that no one else gets. You look around and the room, or computer, takes on a whole new somberness. An object turns into something from 'them'. Things that you were saving to give to them now become this deep emotional burden. What the hell am I going to do with these!?!?!?!??! Send it to them? No, that would open lines of communication that you closed. Save them? But it will never be mine, I got it for them. Throw it away? Probably. And the time that you spent getting them goes with it. Put it in an unmarked box? So much energy over little things. No wonder people sleep all the time when they're sad. Too much energy is put into such minor things. But it keeps you from focusing on the end result. Or does it? Life is so harsh. People talk about the harshest conditions to live in, and weather comes to mind. Not me. The harshest condition is just living. Fighting every day to exist. Hoping that something will matter. Realizing that in the end it does not. Would you rather be a hero to a group of people... Or the one person who made a difference in someone's life?