Monday, September 30, 2013

Just like a prayer...I've been converted

For years I never truly cared for Madonna (a gay sin, I know). Yes I know all the words to more than a few of her songs. How could that be avoided? Like Cher I was exposed to Madonna at a younge via my sister and he cassette collection. And like Cher I didn't realize she was a "gay icon" until much years later. 
I saw the blonde ambition tour on tv...and much like with her music I was nonpulsed. I didn't understand why some woman with trailer park trash beauty would gallivant around the stage with traffic cones on her breasts and a long pony tail hair extension that was faker than the Chanel bags upstate girls tote around (at least have them try to match your hair color girl!).  None of it made any sense. 
I was reveling in Cher because to me at a young age she was always tasteful and elegant. And even in some her more riquè performances she didn't appear to be some harlot running around the stage doing anything she could to get attention. 
As I grew up Madonna continually changed and was always present, trying to break her back in to a buisness that humor her at best. She was never in the same form and never seemed to play the same kind of music more than once, in the same way the real housewives won't wear the same pair of $10,000 heals more than once. 
I just didn't see the point in investing time or effort in a musical artist who either hadn't managed to figure themselves out or find their niche and had no continuity. 
Yes, all artists grow and change. But not like Madonna. There never seemed to be any growth. Just throwing away one sound and gimmick for the next. 
That and as an adult now I detested how she lashes out at other current artists claiming that they copied her instead of gracefully bowing out, raising the white flag and enjoying her riches. Let's be clear, Cher came first and paved the way for her.  So of these artists are copying anyone it's certainly not her. 
But then for some reason I watched the MDNA concert and I've been changed. 
That tour was jaw droppingly fantastic and surprisingly unique.
For the first time in my life I saw a gun as glamorous. 
I initially had cast her album MDNA aside upon first lesson but when you see the concert and the full portrait put together before your eyes it all cliques and becomes one beautiful masterpiece. 
Perhaps Madonna has finally found her niche. I won't lie, I've always thought confessions on a dance floor was brilliant, hard candy crap, but I feel like she revisited confessions on the MDNA album and if she sticks with this sound and genre she'll have this finicky gay man's ears and money. 
What I found most striking about the tour in General was how empowered she made me feel. And at a time when my life is out of sorts and one half of my family hates me this is exactly what I needed. 
I need to have more of her fuck you attitude and stop feeling sorry for myself and wasting emotion on the emotionless.

Saturday, September 28, 2013


Well the finality of the situation is astounding but I'm free. ******** finally admitted *** doesn't care about me and that's all I needed to know to move on. 
My ***** ******* and I are fine or we were and I guess that's all that truly matters. 
Our house is in shambles. The siding had to removed per the purchaser's request and now our house looks like a meth lab and somehow I no longer have cable. Just station upon station of static. I had fully planned on catching up on sisterwives but oh well. 
All hopes of enjoying my day off have been squashed. I did manage to squeeze a nice nap as the people who were removing the siding woke me up at 8am. If you had to be up at 6:30 am on your Saturday and be woken up early on your Saturday when you know you have to go bed early because your shift on your Monday starts at 7am and goes until 10pm. 
Some days I just feel like the walking dead. 

As cheesy as this sounds I couldn't relate more to this song right now

"I used to bite my tongue and hold my breath
Scared to rock the boat and make a mess
So I sat quietly, agreed politely
I guess that I forgot I had a choice
I let you push me past the breaking point
I stood for nothing, so I fell for everything

You held me down, but I got up 
Already brushing off the dust
You hear my voice, you hear that sound
Like thunder gonna shake the ground
You held me down, but I got up 
Get ready cause I’ve had enough
I see it all, I see it now"

I was quiet, held my breath, bit tongue, afraid of what would happen, afraid that what happened would happen and they all head me roar and tried to roar back but it did no good. I'm done. I got my answers and no, they aren't the ones I wanted, they hurt me so deeply I can't explain, but I'm free of it. I've made my choices they've made there's and now we all know where everyone stands. 
You can't change people, you can't make them care or make them realize the reason you're hurting is because you care but you can stop caring, it can be beaten out of you, and it will hurt but like all wounds that hurt will heal.

Once upon a time

Once upon a time there was the most beautiful little boy. He lived in a world of magic and sparkles. In a world of fairies and ponies, mermaids and dragons, princesses and queens and everyday he would wake up, wiping the star dust out of his eyes, his flutterby soul excited for another day of cloud kingdoms and magical adventure. 
By his side was the most beautiful woman this little boy had ever seen. He was convinced that she was his fairy godmother, a queen, and princess all wrapped up in one. 
She loved him truly and deeply for who he was and the beautiful little boy was blind to just how different he was from all the other boys.
But one day the fairy tale took a turn for the worse... His rose colored glasses had finally fallen from his face and his magical kingdom came crashing down around him. His life would never be the same. 
The magical kingdom turned into a crooked house of horrors, the mermaids, fairies, dragons and princess into vampires, werewolves, ghosts, shadows and death. 
And the little boy grew into a dark man who even his fairy god mother had given up on. 
He was doomed to walk alone, for not even death wanted him...
He wakes up every morning now and for a few minutes that beautiful little boy returns until he looks around and realized there are no happy endings, dreams don't come true and love is limited, not limitless. 
He goes through the motions of what he has to do, to keep everyone statisfied, a robot, waiting for the time when he can just let go...for waiting on the otherside are the only three souls whoever truly understood the broken down rag doll he had become.


You never know who people really are. And you never will. I'm at an impass. My voice has been heard but my words have not been understood. 
I'm suppose to allow allowance for everyone else and be held accountable for the way I am. 
I'm suppose to want to have relationships with people who are incapable of caring about me and I'm suppose to be ok with the fact that they can't care...but I ask you... What's the point?
Is there a point to having people in your life who can't care about you or allegedly do but can't tell you and won't be there when you need them because they aren't "good at that kind of stuff". 
This blog, along with the others will likely be copied, linked, and dissected like the others. For what reason? I couldn't tell you. It seems to be the only way to attract any kind of reaction from the family members who couldn't be there when I was sick but don't miss one typed word. And cleverly omit anything I say that could be constrewed as positive. 
I'll say it once more. I'm hurt.  I lost the trust and love of a niece I adored from the day she was born and although I apologized for my explosion that was fueled by the collective abandonment during my sickness that should've have been adressed directly the pot continues to be stirred and I feel like I'm feeding hungry hiyenas every time I express anything I feel. 
No one wants a foreseeable end or resolution. Just more low rent tabloid fotter. 
No one will be happy until I fade away into nothing but a shadow

Friday, September 27, 2013

Just when I thought it was over

Just when I thought the family fued was coming to a close my other niece throws a deliberate jab in my direction. 
I'm sick of it all. I had the foolish hope that everything was quiet and would soon turn to normal but can't expect anything from family that never really has been. 
At this point I've reached a point of indifference. All they want to do, all they've ever wanted to do is hurt or judge me and I'm done.  I'm not going to associate with a pious over indulged teenager and self centered young woman who want. Toning but the worst for me. I heard the quote once and it just seems so appropriate for this situation "you hang around garbage long enough, you start to smell".
I'm done. No white flag has been raised because I don't surrender. They hurt me and refused to own it. They dropped the ball time and time again and refuse to admit that. Well i refuse to open my heart to two tarnished black souls who are incapable of understanding humanity or family or what family entails. 
The opposite of love isn't hate. It's indifference. I'm indifferent. They don't exsist. They're gone in my mind until they mature to a point where they can admit how very wrong they've been and continue to be. 
I'm not wasting any time or effort or heartache on people who think this all some game. 
I had fucking cancer. You weren't there. Period. You're the lowlifes in this situation no matter what your mother tells you. Grow up. 

Thursday, September 26, 2013


This quote couldn't hit closer to home or be truer for me.
In so many ways I lost it all. 
I lost my ideals, my dreams, things I had that I didn't even know I had or wanted, and the life I knew. 
When I took the career path I'm currently on I'll be honest. It was a last resort. The child care field had blown up in my face again and I was running out of time and money. 
I kept searching for a teaching job to no avail. Had even been offered one and had it taken away. 
I knew of I took this career path I'd be saying good bye to so may things I loved and cherished: theater, my love of children, my mission to change their lives, and so many parts of who I was. 
I had lost it all. 
But I didn't. Yes, theater is on the back burner, but I've never felt so free and like I have an actual path. 
For ten years I devoted my life to caring for and educating other people's children in vain. I wanted to make a difference and couldn't no matter how hard I tried and frantically searched for other things to fill the void. 
And a large part of my life was dedicated to avenging the me I was in high school who was robbed of so many opportunities. 
My life wasn't making any difference. I was tethering myself to so many things trying to feel good, trying to feel free, trying to feel something. And all I was doing was spiraling out of control. 
I made the right choice. I am making a difference every day and it's being noticed. What's more is I'm making a path for my life.
Sometimes it does take losing it all to feel free. And to realize that what you thought you were meant to do wasn't what you were suppose to do at all. 

Thursday Thursday...can't trust that day

Thursday. It's usually my Friday but I signed up for overtime to work tomorrow from 8am-2pm. Le sigh. 
I hoping today will be a chill day with the guy I support. I'm brining over my hard drive with both of Rob Zombie's Halloween films on them and I'm hoping he'll want to watch them. He's been on a horror kick lately, much to my pleasure. I'm also bringing Rob Zombie's new horror movie I bought yesterday but haven't seen yet. 
Never really got into or cared to get into Rob Zombie's music but his movies are so deliciously morbid and terrifying that I can never get enough.
I'm not looking forward to Friday for the mere reason I have to get up early but it is what it is. 

Wednesday, September 25, 2013

Change the channel

The feud with my extended family continues. It seems as if everyone has gotten over it except for my niece, the person who I cared about the most. 
I was more than relieved that she wasn't at the house inspection. She said to me she would be civil so the rest of the family wouldn't have to feel uncomfortable and in this statement the very question that had caused the explosion of drama was tragically answered. 
She not only didn't care what I went through when I was sick and the aftermath it caused but probably never cared at all. 
If she had been at the house inspection I couldn't be "civil". Civil is a term people use to allow themselves to be fake. I can't be. I refuse to pretend I'm not hurt. I refuse to be civil. I'm more than capable of ignoring and avoiding but I won't slap on a smile for the sake of everyone else. 
At this point in my life I'm done with all of it. If you don't like it change the channel. 
Eventually I'll get over their lack of support and continued lack of support because I'll just stop caring. Somewhere along the way I'll just have to realize that you can't waste time caring about people who don't care about you. 
I always thought there was a strong possibility that when my mother passes someday the mico family I have will destingrate. She's the glue that's always held us all together for better or worse and the outcome of this situation has just confirmed that. 
I just can't pinpoint why I was under the delusion my niece cared at all. Perhaps it's because I've been diluted by watching other people's family dynamics. 
I am thankful that my mother and twin brother were there every step of the way. 
People are never what you expect them to be. They will always surprise you but not always in a good way. 
Who knows maybe I'll be surprised and she'll come around. But will I ever be able to trust again? No. 
What goads me about this entire situation was that yes, I went about expressing the way I felt the wrong way and apologized for that (something I seldom ever do) and somehow I'm still the villin in this poorly written soap opera. A part of me regrets being the first to apologize because I knew if I did I'd be giving everyone involved the right to blame me entirely. That's exactly what happened. Yes I said foolish and hurtful things on the Internet but that is hardly the same degree as abandoning blood when they are diagnosed with a terminal disease. 
It all just frustrates me. 
This will be part of what I'm leaving behind when we move into this new home. 
I'm done allowing people into my life who don't want me to feel good, who can't adress a problem and work through it for the greater good, people who just can't be people. 

I want to lead a country one day for all I know

The bling ring was fantastic. It took me a bit to figure out the lead guy was gay.
I love that it's based on true story. 
It brought back some fond memories of my fun but poor teenage/ early 20's choices. 
Unlike the film I live no where near a celebrity unless you count that guy from the partridge family who got arrested a few counties over for driving under the influence of alcohol and other low rent drugs. Guess when the money runs out meth will do the trick in a pinch.
And even if I lived near celebrity homes I would never consider robbing a house. I mean when I use to baby sit for lower middle class families I was always paranoid there were teddy cams or other survilance cleverly hidden. I can only imagine the kind of paranoia I would endure in a celebrities home that is probably clad in survilance, stashed in every nook and crany. 
However I did become a pro shoplifter. It started out of need and then became a trill I got addicted to. I went from stashing medicine and face washes I needed into my bag to other bigger ticks items I didn't need and most of the time didn't really want in the first place.
That part of my life is over but it did prove to me that big chain stores may have a camera in every aisle but no one is paying attention. I remember on more than a few occasions just walking out of the store with something and no one stopping me.
I stopped doing it not for myself, but for my family. I didn't want to out them in danger if I ever got caught and cost them even more money. 
I wouldn't say I was kleptomaniac but it did provide a certain thrill that never lasted. 
But back to the film. Emma Watson's acting was beyond on pointe. I didn't have Harry Potter flashbacks or see as Hermoine for one second. Although I will say she did own her accent drop a few times. 
The scenes where the gay character was dolling out fashion advice brought me back to highschool where my girlfriends wouldn't buy anything without my opinion.
I will say this movie should not be watched by any capacity. It would appear that my generation was the last generation to be able to seperated reality from fantasy. 
All you have to do is go on YouTube and see the teens filling shot glasses with hand sanitizer and then promptly cupping the shot glass over their eyeball in a shrewd attempt to get wasted faster. Or, my personal favorite, the teens who are shitting in plastic soda bottles, attaching a balloon to the top and leaving it outside in the sun until the balloon fills with their own shit gas which they hurt from the balloon. 
I'll admit, I made my fair share of exquisitly bad and dangerous choices but none of those choices were because I saw them on tv or in a movie. 
Bottom line this movie was an unexpected treat and make me want to read the book on which it was based. 
And an added bonus the girl from the first season of American Horror Story is in it as well.
And did I mention Emma Watson was flawless? 
I'm sure parents across the nation will rally against this movie because it showcases underage drinking, drug use, and well, robbery...and because parents these days also lack the ability to decipher between a movie that that gives you a glimpse into a one in a million situation and where there children live. 
Sorry parents- as far as the underage drinking and drug use go your teen probably has that on lock with or without the help of this film. 
This viewer gives it 4 stars if you take the film for what it really is. It wasn't intended to make any great statement or achieve critical acclaim, it was just simply meant to enjoy and escape...which in my opinion is what movies should be about. 


Tuesday, September 24, 2013

Miley Cyrus

I can't believe the world is still agog over Miley Cyrus. I'm not going to lie. I've adored her and always will. Did I enjoy her VMA performance? No. It was awful. In the words of Cher "I don't like to see things done badly". And it was. Do I think it was out of place for where it was being performed? No. The VMAs have always been lewd and provocative, if not pornographic. 
People just need to let it go.
And just when you thought the squawking was over her video for wrecking ball came out and they tore into her for that. That video I found tasteful and well done. 

There's no place like home

Today we had the inspection of the house we're about to move into. I can't decipher anything they've said is good or bad because the terminology is beyond me but I am beyond excited.
I will have the entire second floor to myself. My room, pictured above in addition to some other photos, is two room in one. There is no partician except an almost frame of crown molding. And there is no carpet which is a dream. I foresee investments in several swifter products.
In addition to my Tiffany blue room there is another room I will be utilizing as an entertainment room. It opens up to my own deck that reminds me of Juliet's balcony.
I also finally have my own half bath. A place for all my products and toiletries. After 27 years of sharing a bathroom with four people this is as close to heaven as I can imagine.
I'm excited to leave Clifton Park behind. A place where a reminder of horrible times or horrible people are just waiting around the corner. Clifton Park has never been good to me or given me any reason to take pride in living there. Clifton Park is nothing but a cluster of judgmental drones focusing solely on their never ending quest of acquiring more and more items that will scream their social status.
I was a bit worried when this whole process began that I'd lose the feeling of sanctuary I have now in my attict apartment but this house already feels like home.
Packing has been surreal. No matter how much I get rid of or pack it continues to looks as though I've accomplished nothing. I guess that's the price you pay for living in the same home your whole life.

I've got a war in my mind

Progress has been made on my own war in my mind. 
I haven't had any recent sores or burns on my tongue which gives my mind a chance to breath. A luxury I so rarely get to have. 
Cancer doesn't end when it's gone or you've survived. It's always there in the back of your mind but moments when my mouth is in as normal working order as it can be I can enjoy and feel the moments around me. 
Today I took the disabled man I support to a local book store run by a crotchety old man who brings to mind the book shop owner in the neverending story film. 
I had fun. I just let loose and didn't even have to force myself to or prompt myself to. 
When you're little I feel like your head is filled with more nonsense than anyone has the capacity to overcome. Your fed delusions daily as a child that when you grow up you can be anything you want, the stars are the limit. And it's this line of thinking that has in many ways made life so hard for me. They don't prepare you to accept reality and to realize that you mos. likely are going to be a Grammy winning recording artist or  highly sought after Broadway actor. They probably do this so you don't give up at the ripe old age of 5. 
They don't teach you that life is what you make it and sometimes just being alive is enough. And that's what cancer taught me.
No one can ever know for certain if my cancer will come back just as much no one can predict if when I walk outside I'll get hit by a bus or shot. But it's being alive and being able to do something as mundane as write a blog entry that no one will probably be able to read that make life worth it. 
Before cancer I saw my life as a constant struggle and annoyance. I was never where I "wanted" to be. I always wanted bigger, better, and when I got that I wanted even more. My life just couldn't be normal. My life and myself became my enemy. I was running around trying to pack in all could and to climb as many ladders as I could in hopes that this time or the time after that or the time after that my life would be something.  When in reality my life always has been. 
It's these moments of clarity that I'm most happy and don't feel like I have holes I'm trying to fill. 
Who knows what tomorrow holds but today I lived and that was pretty awesome. 

Madonna makes me want to vomit

Last night after my shift with the guy I support I went to the walmart in Troy on a whim that the overnight staff would accidentally put Cher's new album out a few hours early. 
Sure as shit they did and I danced down the aisles clutching my copy. Yes I looked ridiculous, yes I already preordered it on iTunes on my iPhone but there will always be something about holding a physical tangible copy of an album of an artist you love. 
Perhaps it's because I am old enough to remember when CDs weren't your only option and I an well versed in lps and 45s thanks to my mom. 
I got to m car, ripped it open like Charlie ripping the wrapping from the wonka bar to reveal his golden ticket and put it into my car's CD player (where it will live for a VERY long time) and was blown away. 
The album is pure bliss. From Beijing to end. Well worth the 10 year wait, especially when we all thought she was finished. 
In all the promotional interviews I've watched with Cher leading up to the album's release one journalist said I best when he said "there would be no Madonna, no Lady Gaga, no Britney Spears without Cher" and this is complete truth. 
I can't stand how Madonna, Cher, Lady Gaga and several other artists get lumped together as gay icons. Especially when you throw Madonna's name out there. 
Madonna sickness me. Not because of her music but that anyone would ever lump her in with Cher or Lady Gaga who actually sing at their live performances. 
Any queen our there who attributes anything to Madonna other than trying to make camel toe a fashion statement are delusional. Madonna is like herpes, she goes away for a split second, sucks tracks and production from anyone any current pop performer has had success with and pushes out a subpar album filled with collaborations to masque the fact that she is all but useless. 
The main difference between Cher and Madonna is this: Cher is a legend. A legend with an illustrious career and true accolades. Madonna is someone who keeps trying to get to legendary status by changing her image and sound more times than I change I underwear. 
Cher has and always will be Cher. She's the original.
And what's more is Cher has ALWAYS stood up for her large gay audience. Madonna seems to just sweep that under rug. 
Go out and get Cher's new album. You won't be disappointed.
She continues to be incredible and actually worth it. 

Saturday, September 21, 2013

Everybody's working for the weekend

I had a really good weekend. 
I was suppose to work overtime on Friday but needed to get packing for the big move. 
It felt wonderful to sleep in...except for the fact today I was up at 5am for no reason and did what anyone does who gents up at 5am and can't go back to sleep no matter how many antihistamines or melatonin you take- go to walmart. 
Walmart is a completely different land late night or early morning. It's quiet and as peaceful as a glorified warehouse lit in every direction with unflattering fluorescents can be. 
You also get to see all the employees who are the magic behind the re-stocking. They're more like zombies than employees but they get the job done. 
I wandered among the aisles in a dream-like state. I only needed a moisturizing shampoo as the bottle of Finesse 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner only made my hair feel like straw instead of the moisturized manageable mane the bottle promised. 
I found a moisture promising shampoo and lucked out on finding a mismarked shaver that should've been $65 but was wrongly marked $5 (my brother and I were sharing one right up until I found out he wasn't using it to shave his face....and I can only shave with an electric razor as from my lymph node dysection I can't feel one side of my face). 
I also purchased AXE for her which I just couldn't resist the smell.
I headed home shortly thereafter and my body gracefully allowed me a nap. 
Later my family and the guy I'm dating went to the  biyearly flea market. There a found some vinyl gems that I can't help but gush over.
I did run into one vendor who was selling records at absurd prices. As I was browsing through their "collection" I came across several albums I had purchased for at most a dollar. After finding a Barbra Streisand record I already own 5 copies of marked $30 dollar I loudly announced that I had 5 copies that were collectively a $1.50. After an embarrassed look from the vendor who knew I was hip to their price gouging I went about the sea of vendors. 
I also finally found some VHS horror gems. And 2 Annie Lenox CDs I didn't have. 
Not looking forward to working a double tomorrow but I have a feeling the guy I support will more likely than not just want to sleep all day. 
Here's to a new week and keeping the positive juju flowing! 

Wednesday, September 18, 2013

We're moving

We're moving. It's official and surreal. 
When you live in the same house, same home for 27 years it becomes a part of you. 
I've been trying to hold to the "if you haven't touched it in 6 months get rid of it" idea, which is a good one unless you have 27 years of items to weed through and then the entire concept backfires because you're swimming in crap, some of which you didn't even know you had. 
It's been both fun and disastrous as I try to weed through mountains and mountains of crap ( not fecal matter, just things I could kick myself for not throwing out years ago.  After being an avid hoarders fan for years I feel like the distinction had to be made). Memories keep popping up. Both good and bad, funny and sad, or altogether disastrous. 
As I weed through the items I'm surprised at some of the things I come across.
Apparently I kept every lesson plan I ever made when I worked at North Country Academy. That brought back some painful memories but then an imidiate rush of exhilaration when I remembered I don't work there anymore. To think of all the hours I poured over those lesson plans which were really just a clever ruse to trap you in the office for an hour and scream all your inadaquicies at you until you cry. Needless to say they all ended up in the steadily growing trash pile. 
I found some year books and glanced at the autographs and well wishes of so many people who I barely remember or, contrary to their entry never made it into my adult life. 
I found most of my old choir and honor choir sheet music that I was suppose to give back but never did. That brought back some good memories of a time when no one wanted me around there but one angel like woman gave me a chance and believed in me. She gave me the confidence I had been craving and kept all the naysayers and hecklers at bay. She's the reason I still sing today. 
I thought for sure I'd find a forgotten about pack of cigarettes or cleverly hidden pot stash. No luck on either accounts. 
Mostly I'm just happy to have a fresh start. To purge all the needless things and all the clutter and to get away from a town that has never wanted me. 
I'm also happy I'll have a new adress that no one will be privy to unless I decide to share it, especially the last school I worked at which just can't seem to move on or away from me like I have.  
There are so many opportunities ahead and I can't wait to take advantage of each one. 
For now I'll just keep adding to my crap pile until we actually move into the new house. 

Tuesday, September 17, 2013


I'll never understand the concept of attacking someone from behind the computer. 
I'll admit that I'm verbally aggressive and can be a bitch but behind a computer or not I'm the same all around. I wouldn't openly proclaim anything online I wouldn't say to your face.
Maybe we were better off before computers, smartphones, or telephones in general. I'm sure a lot less negativity so was so easily spread around because people would actually have to muster up the courage and gumption to say whatever nasty thing it's is they want to say. 
The Internet can be a place of freedom and an ocean o resources or a cesspool of vile words thoughtlessly typed out and clicked on without a thought or having to suffer any immediate reaction. 
But that was back when people believed in dignity and respect. 2 concepts thrown out the window for every petty disagreement. 
But I digress. 

Monday, September 16, 2013

Reality will never meet your expectations

What does our age really say about ourselves?  
I'm 27. And at my age I feel as though in one breath I've accomplished so much and in another breath I've accomplished so very little. 
If you've felt this way at any age you know exactly what I mean.Receiving wedding invitations from people you went to high school with (or to add salt to that wound, wedding invitations from underclassmen you were friends with at one time or another), going to Walmart for something you ran out of and running into the queen of the school and her 3 illegitimate children accompanied by the baby daddy roaming the aisles behind her, glossy eyed hoping this is not reality, and so and so forth and so it goes. 
Should I or anyone else judge their level of success by others who happen to be in the same age bracket?
If you had asked the middle school aged John, siting in the principal's office during gym because the coach tried beating up the token fag, I would have ever so gently put down my copy of Harry Potter and told you at 25 I would be married to a gorgeous well established man with 2 adopted Asian boys living in the perfect house that would be the shade of pink you could get away with without crossing the line into gaudy, and I'd own an afghan hound. 
I'm 27 and none of that has happened... Was I delusional? No I just wanted to believe there was a reality outside of the one I was trapped in so badly that I just knew after all the years of enduring one uphill climb only to reach another higher one that things would HAVE to be perfect. 
Well the reality is nothing is.
I wanted to be a teacher so I could make a change in society. I figured if life wasn't going to give me the room I needed to make my perfect reality come to fruition I'd start cultivating young minds and giving them an example of what society and normal could be. Foolishly I thought I'd make an impression on each child I taught and the effect would trickle down creating a more palatable reality. 
I'm 27 and yes, I'm told I've made an impact, and even in some cases a monumental change in some of my pupils' lives but the closest I've come to seeing that acceptance or society change is running into a former student at Marshall's who was working the registers and not only recognized me (you never know if they will have the faintest idea who you are once they move on. I've found it's always best to wait for the signs that they know you to avoid that crestfallen moment where not only does the child not remember you but neither do the parents) but came on to me, asked me out and proceeded to tell me the kind of "liquid dreams" O-Town was referencing in their only chart topper I inspired . And so it goes...
But I don't feel like a failure. I truly don't. I feel like I live in a realm where everybody is moving too fast and they just refuse to slow down. 
I was engaged once upon a time. That sure took me out of reality for a solid two years and then promptly dropped me on my ass back into reality. Looking back though I'm happy it didn't work out. 
I guess the real problem I struggle with the most is defining what happiness is, more specifically what my happiness is. Yes I know what my favorite color, flavor of ice cream and member of Nsync is. But is this what happiness makes? 
The reality we live in now, whether we choose to see or acknowledge it or not, there's not time for true happiness. 
Society has made this reality about working. Working working working. Working your life away until you turn to look back and see that you may have accomplished all your "goals" but what happiness did you gain? 
There are a few things that I know make me happy. I am happy I'm still alive. I am happy I still live at home and I am happy that none of those middle school goals came true. I'm 27 and I still don't know what I want but at least I'm not stuck in the reality society has created. 

We were born to die

If anyone reads my blog you'll know I've had a lot of wasted family drama going on. Most of it took place on Facebook considering it seems to be the only time I have certain people's undivided-attention. 
Well as you can imagine people who aren't in my family got involved. 
The focal point of this monstrous drama hurricane was, for me at least, my cancer and their lack of and continued lack of support. 
Well this one person who got involved beyond appropriate means (more power to ya to post responses. If I'm going to put  up anything for the whole world to see its anyone's right to respond.) and made this statement to me that until just a few moments ago I realized made absolutely no sense:
I thought after the cancer we'd see a more kind and thankful John. 
I'm baffled and bamboozled. It's as if the subtext is cancer patients and survivors got it for some reason, not just happened to have it. As if there is some sort of cancer drawing where from a collective of all the "miserable" people a few names are drawn to teach them a lesson. 
Doesn't that seem cruel and senseless?
Did I come out of it changed? How could I not. I, unlike a lot of the lucky populous, was made completely,totally, and abruptly aware of my mortality. Everyone thinks they understand this concept to a certain degree but until you're sitting in a sterile doctors office with a decree that the world's most deadliest killer is inside of your body you realize how feeble and fragile these outer shells we call bodies are. 
And I hope that no one else is this world is ever burdened with the reality of this fact, foolish as that may be. 
But cancer is not a learning lesson. It's purpose isn't to make people "better" or "kinder". It's sole purpose is to kill and if it doesn't kill you and you "survive" you wonder if its really gone at all and waste many of the days you have left worrying about all the what ifs. 
For example, I recently injured my tongue. The opposite side of the side that the cancer had grown ever so quickly on. And I thought I was past this point, had made progress, but for 5 days I was convinced the cancer had returned and I was doomed. Doomed to die, to lose even more of my tongue, to lose my entire tongue and the ability to speak and so on and so forth. 
So you tell me how cancer could improve anyone's temperament, attitude, or personality with a war constantly waging in your mind that the world is blind to because they've all decided since you seem normal on the outside that the fight is over. Or if you do mention it you're having a pity party or feeling sorry for yourself. 
I can be strong. Most days I'm capable of putting all the worries and unanswered questions about my future away for a few hours. But no, I will never be the same. And what has put me in a place to never to be the same was not intended to benefit anyone. There is no moral to be learned from cancer as it isn't a fairy tale. There are no fairies, no dragons, no talking animals or over grown beanstalks, no magical glass slippers or mermaid fins. Just a dark monster that can never be removed, surgically or otherwise. 
The moral of this blog is- don't open your mouth about something you could never comprehend and wonder what it would be like to be in my shoes- a mere miracle I survived, then survived the treatment and somehow managed to not go insane. 

Friday, September 13, 2013

How many great loves...

As the picture would imply I've been on a Sex And The City binge. I still stand by the statement I made years ago while the show was still on, "Carrie Bradshaw taught me everything I need to know" but I can't help but put Ms. Bradshaw in the same category as Mr. Disney- people who gave me false expectations of what love is, could be, and what it really is or how it actually works. 
I've always loved Sex And The City. It makes me think instead of idle like most television shows. 
And Ms. Bradshaw proposed the question "how many great loves do you get?"  
For me, like Charlotte claimed, it's been two. Two great loves that like Ms. Bradshaw and Mr. Disney left me forever damaged on the journey to find the one great love that lasts. 
When you reflect on these "great loves" you remember the perfection of it all and lose any memory of the hard work it took you to get there. So when the next opportunity for love falls in your lap you expect it to just take off from where your great love left off and when it doesn't because it can't you cast them aside. 
So thank you Ms. Bradshaw, Mr. Disney, great love number one and great love number two. 

I know what it's like to be at war with yourself

I signed up for overtime and thusly am wide awake on my day off at an hour I would be sleeping. Compounded by the fact that the person with disabilities I support went back to bed the minute I walked in the door and it only adds fuel to the fiery flame of my self-imposed sleepiness. 
I brought over Xanadu on the off chance he'd sit down and want to watch it so here I sit on my Saturday alone watching Xanadu at 8 in the morning. So it goes...
My tongue has caused me a tedious amount of attention and pain this week which does nothing to add to my already wavering emotional stability. 
Ever since my radiation therapy which caused one of my saliva glands to die making my mouth dry as a desert at night I almost always wake up with a new injury or soreness. My tongue gets stuck to my teeth and there's really no easy way to peel your tongue off your teeth without causing some kind of irritation. 
And although I know the cause of these injuries my mind always becomes clouded with all the "what ifs". 
It's always the side the cancer wasn't on so I was told (after many frantic visits to my oncologist) that if any of these sores were cancer it wouldn't be a reoccurrence. It would be a new cancer which is apparently highly unlikely. 
I was just like to get through a few month without having to think and worry about my tongue. 
On some level I've been preparing myself for it coming back despite all the reassurances that its highly unlikely. I figure if it comes back in any form this time I'll have them take my entire tongue so at the very least I won't have to worry about it anymore or constantly be going through tubes of oral gel and this prescription called magic mouth wash that contains every numbing agent imaginable.
Cancer aside as my title would suggest I feel I am at war with myself. With all this family drama and then drama thrust upon me by teenager acquaintances I feel like I'm damned if I do, damned if I don't. Every time i open my mouth I will undoubtedly offend someone and if I keep quiet I slowly begin to crumble inside. So do you continue the war, continue to fight or just give up?
I wasn't raised to be meek and quiet. I was raised to express my opinions and passions. But now it's as if even if its something at stupid and silly as  me superposing my face on a Miley Cyrus picture people have the cross and nails at the ready. 
I don't think I've bad to endure this much drama and judgement since high school. 
People are telling me repeatedly that if everyone is against you maybe it's you or maybe you should change. 
Why does it have to trickle down to me. Isn't there always the slight chance a group of people could be Wong because society promotes taking the popular opinion and agreeing with everyone else's opinion for protection?