Temperature: a sunny 14/57 degrees on Saturday. Which is alarmingly warm for November but nothing out of the new ordinary. A bit colder now, but it has never been this warm this late in the year.
Eating: Veggie cabbage rolls. The stench! The taste!!
Drinking: afternoon coffee. Which I’ve kind of given up. But today calls for afternoon coffee and lots of it.
Listening: to an audiobook, even though I don’t usually do audiobooks. But when you admire someone’s work enough you go the extra mile. Is it any good? Stupendous. You clever, clever thing. Person, I mean.
Watching: If you ever find yourself in the vicinity of either the movie My Sailor, My Love or the World Wide Dance triple bill (Akram Khan, Fei Bo, and Justin Peck; unless that was a one-off, come to think of it) go see them, go!
Reading: Leafing through Nigella Christmas. Oh come on, you know me. Or ought to, sweetie darlings.
Thinking: Imagine if we’d taken the Kyoto Protocol seriously in 1997. Imagine if we’d taken Putin seriously in 2008.
Feeling: for my husband and his late mother’s side of the family; his uncle has died of pancreatic cancer.
Dita Parker
Showing posts with label calling all angels. Show all posts
Showing posts with label calling all angels. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 16, 2022
God rest thee mellow gentleman
Monday, June 25, 2018
The leftovers
Life goes on. That's what they say. That's what I've been told, that's what I've told myself, that's what I've told others upon the loss of a loved one. Truth be told, it's but a half-truth. Sure, your life goes on. You wake up happy to find a pulse and get on with whatever your life is made of. But a story within your story has come to a full stop. Just like that? Just like that. You don't get to see how it plays out. The future has come to a full stop. Plans you had, dreams you had, are now plans and dreams frozen in time.
Life goes on. But so does death. Those we lose will remain lost, tomorrow, next month, five years from now. The loss is forever. It's been five months since my mother-in-law died, but I haven't had the heart to tell my husband the bad news yet; that it will always hurt, that there is no use trying to run and hide, pain and grief ride a horse that never tires.
I'll start with the good news. What won't last forever is the bleak, the dark, the black. Colors will reclaim their rightful place as the black block grows smaller and smaller. And love...love and gratitude never die. You never bury those, those you get to keep and cherish for the rest of your days. And some days will be better than others and soon most days will be better than the rest and maybe, as time goes by, that stunted story will make sense or, at the very least, you will come to accept that it never will, and that's just the way it is.
Life goes on. But so does death. Those we lose will remain lost, tomorrow, next month, five years from now. The loss is forever. It's been five months since my mother-in-law died, but I haven't had the heart to tell my husband the bad news yet; that it will always hurt, that there is no use trying to run and hide, pain and grief ride a horse that never tires.
I'll start with the good news. What won't last forever is the bleak, the dark, the black. Colors will reclaim their rightful place as the black block grows smaller and smaller. And love...love and gratitude never die. You never bury those, those you get to keep and cherish for the rest of your days. And some days will be better than others and soon most days will be better than the rest and maybe, as time goes by, that stunted story will make sense or, at the very least, you will come to accept that it never will, and that's just the way it is.
Friday, November 9, 2012
What's going on
I love our modern times, I really do. But I sometimes feel as if something got severed on the way from the Enlightenment to today, some important connection between body and mind. For all the talk on holistic approaches to health, the body is still the seat of all that is base. Something to be feared, something to be mastered. Controlled. Think of the double standards applied to gender and sexuality. Or think of popular culture. Genres that evoke a physical response instead of an intellectual one (horror, comedy, romance...) have never been valued, awarded or applauded, not like their cerebral sisters and brothers.
And food and eating, OMG, sweetie darlings. It's not a pleasure, is it, it's a project to be tackled calculator in hand and monitor on wrist. Where's the joy? The enjoyment? I know people, most of them are women, sorry but yeah, who look at every bite as if it was trying to kill them. They look at every bite others have as bombs about to be digested, voluntarily, and they look at the individual about to die of living with pity.
I look at those people, want to shake them, scream, "Snap out of it!" I think of those who have no food. Those so sick they can't eat even if they wanted to. How does all that guilt, all the shame and shaming associated with eating put food on their table or tummies? But it's not about them, is it? It's about you, the one thing, possibly the only thing, you can control in these uncertain times of ours. Which is just another illusion, isn't it?
I take care of my body to ensure, as far as you can anyway, it takes care of me, keeps me going. I know it pretty well, how it functions, its demands. We've been getting close and better acquainted through sickness and health, through sports and pregnancies, and sensual pleasures such as eating and sex. Right now, I know something is wrong. I just don't know what it is yet. Hence the radio silence. (Yeah, I'm usually a motormouth, aren't I, hard to get a word in. Tsk.)
I will blog as scheduled on 69 Shades plus the guest appearances I've already booked, and leave a note here when I feel the force is with me. I'm not going to talk about it on Facebook, I'm not going to Tweet my medical record. (And I'm not judging. If it's something you do and find helpful, to you and perhaps others, write away!) I'll be out and about if and when I can, but what I really need to do right now is take care of myself while trying not to scare the wee ones. They're already a bit freaked out seeing Mom unwell and she can't explain why.
Here's hoping the something turns out to be nothing. In the meantime, go hang out with your favorite artists and authors, your family and friends. And be good to yourself! Listen to some music. Dance. Watch something that evokes every emotion ever felt. Laugh, cry, cringe. Feel it. Really feel it, without shame. Cook something from scratch. Eat without guilt. Take a long walk in a new direction. Enjoy the sensual world. I know life sometimes feels so senseless, and maybe it has no meaning, no one thing true and applicable to all, but you can always try to make yours a meaningful one. Do you understand what I'm getting on about, what I'm trying to say? It's all right, dearest denizens. I still love you. See you around,
Smooches, D.
And food and eating, OMG, sweetie darlings. It's not a pleasure, is it, it's a project to be tackled calculator in hand and monitor on wrist. Where's the joy? The enjoyment? I know people, most of them are women, sorry but yeah, who look at every bite as if it was trying to kill them. They look at every bite others have as bombs about to be digested, voluntarily, and they look at the individual about to die of living with pity.
I look at those people, want to shake them, scream, "Snap out of it!" I think of those who have no food. Those so sick they can't eat even if they wanted to. How does all that guilt, all the shame and shaming associated with eating put food on their table or tummies? But it's not about them, is it? It's about you, the one thing, possibly the only thing, you can control in these uncertain times of ours. Which is just another illusion, isn't it?
I take care of my body to ensure, as far as you can anyway, it takes care of me, keeps me going. I know it pretty well, how it functions, its demands. We've been getting close and better acquainted through sickness and health, through sports and pregnancies, and sensual pleasures such as eating and sex. Right now, I know something is wrong. I just don't know what it is yet. Hence the radio silence. (Yeah, I'm usually a motormouth, aren't I, hard to get a word in. Tsk.)
I will blog as scheduled on 69 Shades plus the guest appearances I've already booked, and leave a note here when I feel the force is with me. I'm not going to talk about it on Facebook, I'm not going to Tweet my medical record. (And I'm not judging. If it's something you do and find helpful, to you and perhaps others, write away!) I'll be out and about if and when I can, but what I really need to do right now is take care of myself while trying not to scare the wee ones. They're already a bit freaked out seeing Mom unwell and she can't explain why.
Here's hoping the something turns out to be nothing. In the meantime, go hang out with your favorite artists and authors, your family and friends. And be good to yourself! Listen to some music. Dance. Watch something that evokes every emotion ever felt. Laugh, cry, cringe. Feel it. Really feel it, without shame. Cook something from scratch. Eat without guilt. Take a long walk in a new direction. Enjoy the sensual world. I know life sometimes feels so senseless, and maybe it has no meaning, no one thing true and applicable to all, but you can always try to make yours a meaningful one. Do you understand what I'm getting on about, what I'm trying to say? It's all right, dearest denizens. I still love you. See you around,
Smooches, D.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Sisters are doin' it for themselves
After the annus horribilis that was last year, I was looking forward to an uneventful rest of the decade. (Okay, my first Romantica got published. That was pretty fantabulous.) No such luck. My brother-in-law's partner and my sister-in-law's mother were diagnosed with breast cancer this summer. One has been given a clean bill. The other, well, we'll see.
On Monday I find out that my father had a health scare over the weekend, a heart incident. My brother and sister had already given him an ass-chewing so I tried to bite my tongue, but seriously, he'd had all kinds of symptoms for three weeks (!!!). No, s e r i o u s l y , gents, what gives? And I'm sorry if this sounds like a gross generalization, chew my ass if you feel like it, but in my experience when men get sick it's either a big production over nothing or they admit they need medical attention when their heads fall off and even then they're going, "It's nothing." Death grunts. "Really, it's nothing." More death grunts. I feel for the hospital staff; he's being absolutely impossible to treat or reason with, I'm sure.
The things that have been going through my mind this week...I'm getting palpitations just thinking about it. Sweet. Baby. Jesus. We need to talk about something else. How about some smart, brave, wise, reasonable women. As you may have heard, the Nobel Peace Prize for 2011 was divided between Ellen Johnson Sirleaf, Leymah Gbowee and Tawakkul Karman, "for their non-violent struggle for the safety of women and for women's rights to full participation in peace building work." The Norwegian Nobel Committee noted that "[w]e cannot achieve democracy and lasting peace in the world unless women obtain the same opportunities as men to influence developments at all levels of society."
That's what women have been trying to tell the world for a couple of centuries now. And now we have the portrait of Alfred Nobel in relief to back our demands. But seriously, it is easy to forget in the relatively free and egalitarian part of the world how disenfranchised, and I do mean stripped of both rights and dignity, many women still are. Far too many women. It is for these women, women and girls with no voice or visibility, that the three winners and prizes such as these bring hope.
Got another brave and tireless woman for you, one who's doing something to leave the world in a better shape than she found it, brought to you via The Rejectionist. La Rejectionista has cooked up a buffet of a fundraiser to help her friend Emily, a buffet bound to tease the taste buds of readers and writers alike. The first item is already up for grabs so hurry! How will you know she hasn't booked a winter vaca and this isn't one of those last-chance-to-send-your-dollar fundraisers? I'm sorry but who vacations in Nepal? Really, peeps, jeez. Give the cynic the day off and have a look at those items, alone worth the price of admission, surely!
I do love a woman, a man too, naturally, who doesn't lament the state of things but sets out to do something about them. Yes, I know, you could have been a contender, start a clinic from scratch, save the planet, it's a done deal, really, save for the fact you don't have the time or the expertise. Well, Emily does, and you can play a part. Major role, bit part, walk-on, the choice is yours.
No, serious like cancer, everything counts. As in everything. Maybe this week you'll do one daily coffee run instead of two. That pick-me-up pretzel? That's what the coffee is for. If it's not picking you up, it's either decaf and explain to me why you're having it or you're not getting enough rest. Enough said, you get my drift. When I start thinking I've got nothing to give, I give it another think and all kinds of possibilities open up. Not only are you leaving the world a better place than you found it, you're none the poorer for it. Do the math. None. You can take that to the bank.
I would like to sign off by reminding my dearest denizens duty calls me to step out of the den this weekend so no Frisky Friday this Friday. Doesn't mean you can't still have one, you know, not-so-subtle hint hint. I would also like to remind the ladies out there of the importance of monthly breast self-exams. You can find instructions on frickin' YouTube if you don't know how to do it, so there is no excuse. None. And gentlemen, please, it's the 21st century. Your dick won't fall off if you admit you don't feel one hundred percent one hundred percent of the time. Admit it. I dare you. Damn right I'm upset. I'm too young for this shit. Don't make it worse now. There's an army inside you. An axis of light and wisdom and truth and beauty. Mobilize it. Conspire for good.
Until next week, sweetie darlings. Behave.
On Monday I find out that my father had a health scare over the weekend, a heart incident. My brother and sister had already given him an ass-chewing so I tried to bite my tongue, but seriously, he'd had all kinds of symptoms for three weeks (!!!). No, s e r i o u s l y , gents, what gives? And I'm sorry if this sounds like a gross generalization, chew my ass if you feel like it, but in my experience when men get sick it's either a big production over nothing or they admit they need medical attention when their heads fall off and even then they're going, "It's nothing." Death grunts. "Really, it's nothing." More death grunts. I feel for the hospital staff; he's being absolutely impossible to treat or reason with, I'm sure.
The things that have been going through my mind this week...I'm getting palpitations just thinking about it. Sweet. Baby. Jesus. We need to talk about something else. How about some smart, brave, wise, reasonable women. As you may have heard, the Nobel Peace Prize for 2011 was divided between Ellen Johnson Sirleaf, Leymah Gbowee and Tawakkul Karman, "for their non-violent struggle for the safety of women and for women's rights to full participation in peace building work." The Norwegian Nobel Committee noted that "[w]e cannot achieve democracy and lasting peace in the world unless women obtain the same opportunities as men to influence developments at all levels of society."
That's what women have been trying to tell the world for a couple of centuries now. And now we have the portrait of Alfred Nobel in relief to back our demands. But seriously, it is easy to forget in the relatively free and egalitarian part of the world how disenfranchised, and I do mean stripped of both rights and dignity, many women still are. Far too many women. It is for these women, women and girls with no voice or visibility, that the three winners and prizes such as these bring hope.
Got another brave and tireless woman for you, one who's doing something to leave the world in a better shape than she found it, brought to you via The Rejectionist. La Rejectionista has cooked up a buffet of a fundraiser to help her friend Emily, a buffet bound to tease the taste buds of readers and writers alike. The first item is already up for grabs so hurry! How will you know she hasn't booked a winter vaca and this isn't one of those last-chance-to-send-your-dollar fundraisers? I'm sorry but who vacations in Nepal? Really, peeps, jeez. Give the cynic the day off and have a look at those items, alone worth the price of admission, surely!
I do love a woman, a man too, naturally, who doesn't lament the state of things but sets out to do something about them. Yes, I know, you could have been a contender, start a clinic from scratch, save the planet, it's a done deal, really, save for the fact you don't have the time or the expertise. Well, Emily does, and you can play a part. Major role, bit part, walk-on, the choice is yours.
No, serious like cancer, everything counts. As in everything. Maybe this week you'll do one daily coffee run instead of two. That pick-me-up pretzel? That's what the coffee is for. If it's not picking you up, it's either decaf and explain to me why you're having it or you're not getting enough rest. Enough said, you get my drift. When I start thinking I've got nothing to give, I give it another think and all kinds of possibilities open up. Not only are you leaving the world a better place than you found it, you're none the poorer for it. Do the math. None. You can take that to the bank.
I would like to sign off by reminding my dearest denizens duty calls me to step out of the den this weekend so no Frisky Friday this Friday. Doesn't mean you can't still have one, you know, not-so-subtle hint hint. I would also like to remind the ladies out there of the importance of monthly breast self-exams. You can find instructions on frickin' YouTube if you don't know how to do it, so there is no excuse. None. And gentlemen, please, it's the 21st century. Your dick won't fall off if you admit you don't feel one hundred percent one hundred percent of the time. Admit it. I dare you. Damn right I'm upset. I'm too young for this shit. Don't make it worse now. There's an army inside you. An axis of light and wisdom and truth and beauty. Mobilize it. Conspire for good.
Until next week, sweetie darlings. Behave.
Monday, July 25, 2011
Tragic kingdom
And so it came to pass that the magic kingdom turned tragic. With the wave of a tragic wand, anywhere but here suddenly came near, and in that tragic moment the kingdom fell under a tragic spell.
And as the tragic numbers were counted, the tears and questions mounted. And the King searched for a magic word and the Queen for a magic touch, but the tragician had already spoken and said far too much.
And everyone could see it had worked like tragic and who could remember all of the magic, but the King and Queen, the women and men, they wanted to see that kingdom again.
You could hunt for a thousand seasons and come home without answers or reasons.
And as the tragic numbers were counted, the tears and questions mounted. And the King searched for a magic word and the Queen for a magic touch, but the tragician had already spoken and said far too much.
And everyone could see it had worked like tragic and who could remember all of the magic, but the King and Queen, the women and men, they wanted to see that kingdom again.
You could hunt for a thousand seasons and come home without answers or reasons.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Crash boom bang
There is nothing wrong with your RSS feed. Do not try to adjust your reader. Due to circumstances beyond our control, we are experiencing transmission difficulties.
For the next few days, wait patiently as we attempt to sort out this glitch. Visit with friends and family. Have some turkey. If you can stomach it. Whichever.
We repeat: there is nothing wrong with your feed. We are partaking in matters of life and death, experiencing the awe and mystery which reaches from the inner mind to... The Outer Limits.
For the next few days, wait patiently as we attempt to sort out this glitch. Visit with friends and family. Have some turkey. If you can stomach it. Whichever.
We repeat: there is nothing wrong with your feed. We are partaking in matters of life and death, experiencing the awe and mystery which reaches from the inner mind to... The Outer Limits.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Time to say goodbye
I got some sad bad news regarding my maternal grandfather, the gentleman who recently turned ninety. He has taken a turn for the worse and decided this is it, no more hospital beds and treatments that won't make him better, only delay the inevitable, and so he has stopped eating and has refused nutrient fluids. He is going as his brother did before him, taking his life in his hands, sharp of mind but tired of body.
And it will be like losing her all over again, I just know it will, I can feel it. I know I said I wouldn't bring this stuff to the den but it's just so hard to bear sometimes, walking wounded. I will go about my day and without warning be shot through the heart by a sorrow so extreme for a moment I can't breathe. I almost walked in front of a car the other day. I fear mauling someone with mine. I've started having a recurring dream where I'm being robbed. A gun in my face, a knife at my waist, The Look that means business.
I'm getting ready. I'm getting ready to lose yet something I can't replace. Nothing left unsaid, nothing left undone. That is my solace. Pain may be the price we pay for love, but it's worth every bullet. Now that the chips are down, I feel more joy than I do sorrow, gratitude more than I do anything else. I may never see them or hold them again but I will always have the moments leading to goodbye.
Good luck trying to rob me of those.
Monday, April 5, 2010
New York minute
Sorry I'm not in, I've gone is search of my heart. I seem to have misplaced it on Saturday; at least I feel like a donor.
Leave a light on when you go, okay? I need it to find my way back to the den; I wouldn't want to lose you, too.
It's okay. I don't care how much this hurts as long as she no longer suffers. It's all right. As soon as I find that heart I'll be back up on all fours in no time.
Now go tell someone you love them, and I do mean right now. You have one minute. Go.
Leave a light on when you go, okay? I need it to find my way back to the den; I wouldn't want to lose you, too.
It's okay. I don't care how much this hurts as long as she no longer suffers. It's all right. As soon as I find that heart I'll be back up on all fours in no time.
Now go tell someone you love them, and I do mean right now. You have one minute. Go.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)