Before Sunrise

Before Sunrise....where have you been all my life? I miss the nineties, I miss that age, when life was an adventure and things were new.  and always, romance.

I've had parts of this movie in my life. Glimpses really.  Never anything as perfect as the night that these two beautiful creatures share. 

The meeting on the train, the openness about life, sharing, expressing, that's what our twenties were there for right? 

I've had all nighters, parties or one on ones that lasted all night.  they are wonderful , magical.

the thing is, usually in my life I can't wait until it's over.  If it's a movie, I can't wait until it's over.  If I'm out with friends, I can't wait until it's over.  If it's a book, I always read the last line first.  Magazines, I read backwards.

Impatient.

I hurry through my life for what?  what's the finish line? death?  What's the rush?  How about a beautiful song, a moment to enjoy?

the smell of a summers day in a field of green grass.

That fleeting glimpse of pure happiness.

No, most of the time I'm worried, anxious, wishing I was somewhere else.

I've traveled, and seen other things, I've lived.  I have lived.  This movie reminds me to live.  I love movies like that.

Celebrate Yourself

"You have such unique beauty, celebrate yourself." This was a comment left on my myspace by an ex friend.  Why ex? Well two months later he called me Shamu.  As in, "Why are you hanging out with Shamu?" That comment stung, but there have been many comments made to me over the years.  The trick is how do we move past these comments and into our own life? Love yourself, celebrate yourself?

Sitting next to my friend in fifth grade comparing thighs, "your thighs are so big, nobody at my school is as big as you."

Hanging out with my friend in High school and her mom says to me, "I'm so fat nothing fits, Kaety, do you have any fat girl dresses?" 

At a party, drunk and at some random people's house acting crazy, "Get out of here you 200 lb Whore."

My weight has been up and it's been way down.  When it was down, I'd get lots of compliments, lots of dates, lots of attention.  So much so that I became a little paralyzed by fear.  The body, not me was being looked at, used, gazed at.  I would get dressed up and then sit in my house unable to leave.  Not wanting to be looked at. 

Then I gained a lot of weight, and I was invisible, not looked at.  It hurt, but I also learned a lot about myself.  I love to write, I wrote poetry and songs, I love music, I hung out with music minded people.  I laughed, I traveled, I got my college degree, I made films all while being overweight.  I related to men on a different level.  I made a lot of male friends.  I lost my fear of the opposite sex. 

Finally I lost some weight, and became a little more desirable.  Men flirted with me.  What? Don't get me wrong, I still had boyfriends, even at my fattest. But, they were friends who got to know me first. 

Where was I going with this?  I'm not even sure right now.  But I think I'm owning this person now.  Who I am.   Am I shamu? Am I a 200 lb whore?  these comments were made by some sad people, and now I'm realizing that maybe they aren't true.  Maybe they never were. 

LindaMay 14, 2011 at 2:46 PM

About time mamacita! You are a good writer and you have lots to share. Looking forward to more.

Comment from my mom may 14 2011.  I last wrote my blog in June.  In July, my world was about to get a lot more complicated.  My mom had been diagnosed with Breast Cancer in late 2009.  I knew, when she told us that it would not end well.  She started chemo in early 2010.  The Dr. told us, sorry it took so long to get this started.  How long did it take?  These are questions I was too scared to ask.  I got pregnant in March.  My mom seemed like she was handling it all fine.  She chopped off her long hair before chemo could get to it, and dyed it a shocking red.  No big surprise, she was always full of spunk, and punk.  

She finished her chemo, and had the mastectomy, and then started the radiation.  Driving herself to San luis Obispo for the appointments.  Saying something about not being able to see well in the fog.  Be careful mom, I would say.  Then one time, driving with her, she almost ran into the other lane.  Mom, what's going on here? I would say.  Should you be driving? She then decided to tell the Dr. about this, and we found out the day before my baby shower that she had two tumors in her brain.  She would have to have brain surgery and gamma knife radiation.  My world was coming down hard around me.  

Then early 2011, she started having more trouble, this time with walking.  She had always had a love of horses, and finally was able to acquire the space next to our house to have horses.  This was cause of great concern of our nosy neighbors.  She had been subject to a sheriff visit on more than one occasion.  Especially as her health was failing.  What I don't get, what I will never get, is how a person can call a sheriff on someone who is sick.  Why not offer a hand? Oh that's right, my mom has five kids.  WE could do it.  Well, I have no idea about horses.  Not the first thing. Neither did my brothers.  While I love horses, to look at, I'm not keen on riding them.  They just scare me.  Plus I was newly a mom.  

So late one night in the rain, my mom was in the coral shoveling muck because of a neighbor complaint.  After that her back didn't feel quite right.  It went downhill fast, and she was barely able to walk by the time she went in for her operation.  After the operation, she went to a rehab facility.  To rehab and hopefully start walking again.  During this time I was subject to more scrutiny.  I should be there more, I should do more, I should I should I should.  My baby was about three months old, and I was told not to go into the place to often because she could pick up something.  The guilt was overwhelming. and I lost a friend over it.  Because I wasn't doing enough.  Also, I was planning a wedding.  

My mom finally came home and thats when the real work started.  She couldn't walk, and so we moved her whole life to the downstairs and me my baby and husband moved in upstairs.  There was years and years of things to go through.  Not to mention, the slow realization that my mom wasn't getting better, she was getting worse.  First, the bedside camode, then the hospital bed, then finally hospice.  I will never ever forget our last months together.  How much she loved my daughter, how much strength she had.  How beautiful her death was.  because it really was.  One of my favorite last memories was sitting next to her as I often did towards the end.  We were chatting about something, her in a blissful haze of morphine,  the ever present pandora in the background, and "Wish you were here" came on the station.  My mom just stopped and sighed. We just listened together. 

Mom, I still wish you were here.  That's never going to go away.  I love you.