“There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are messengers of overwhelming grief...and unspeakable love.”
- Washington Irving
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Déjà vu
Grey's Anatomy season 6, episode 4
Meredith's dad is my dad.
That scene where he's throwing up blood was my reality 3 years ago. Miraculously he survived. He stopped drinking for 9 months, and then started again.
I wonder if I were in the same situation, would I give him part of my liver?
My father isn't eligible for a transplant, and its not because he did this to himself. He's not eligible because he also has diabetes, and it's almost impossible to operate on him.
But I can't stop thinking about that night 3 years ago when we rushed him to the ER and they told me he wouldn't make it.
Would I have given him part of my liver if the option was there?
I don't know.
Meredith's dad is my dad.
That scene where he's throwing up blood was my reality 3 years ago. Miraculously he survived. He stopped drinking for 9 months, and then started again.
I wonder if I were in the same situation, would I give him part of my liver?
My father isn't eligible for a transplant, and its not because he did this to himself. He's not eligible because he also has diabetes, and it's almost impossible to operate on him.
But I can't stop thinking about that night 3 years ago when we rushed him to the ER and they told me he wouldn't make it.
Would I have given him part of my liver if the option was there?
I don't know.
Monday, November 9, 2009
Finally
I have been waiting for today since January 25th, 2006.
Today is the day I move.
More on that when I settle in our new homeland.
Today is the day I move.
More on that when I settle in our new homeland.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Baby Bump Watch - Week 20
I swore I wouldn't do this, but I caved.
Introducing my half-way cooked baby:
Introducing my half-way cooked baby:
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Thinking
I miss the days when I used to write on a regular basis.
Those were the days when I used to spend hours drinking coffee, smoking cigarettes, and working on my short movies.
Those were also the days when I used to cook for my friends every single day, because I loved it.
It's hard to think it's been 4 years since I've been able to feel that content.
The past few months have been difficult. If you haven't already noticed, I've been a little busy making a little human being. My first trimester was HARD, complete with unbelievable morning sickness and an almost miscarriage. Things are much better these days.
I've taken an unpaid vacation from work for the rest of the calendar year, and am moving countries yet again at the end of this week. I'm looking forward to two months of sleeping in, cooking, and just being creative. I'm looking forward to getting my life ready for this unbelievable change that's going to come. I didn't plan the pregnancy, but now that baby oops is half-way cooked, life can't get any better.
It also doesn't hurt that I'm getting the fuck outta here.
This is what that feels like to me (in Houston, circa June 2009):
Those were the days when I used to spend hours drinking coffee, smoking cigarettes, and working on my short movies.
Those were also the days when I used to cook for my friends every single day, because I loved it.
It's hard to think it's been 4 years since I've been able to feel that content.
The past few months have been difficult. If you haven't already noticed, I've been a little busy making a little human being. My first trimester was HARD, complete with unbelievable morning sickness and an almost miscarriage. Things are much better these days.
I've taken an unpaid vacation from work for the rest of the calendar year, and am moving countries yet again at the end of this week. I'm looking forward to two months of sleeping in, cooking, and just being creative. I'm looking forward to getting my life ready for this unbelievable change that's going to come. I didn't plan the pregnancy, but now that baby oops is half-way cooked, life can't get any better.
It also doesn't hurt that I'm getting the fuck outta here.
This is what that feels like to me (in Houston, circa June 2009):
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Ashton?
I’ve gotta give myself some props here. I held off on the rage for almost a month. Honest.
That last entry I wrote wasn’t fueled by rage. It was fueled by a different kind of passion I can’t describe.
But when you work with some of the idiots I work with, well, I don’t really know how to finish that sentence.
Let’s take ‘cheater’ as an example.
If you guessed that he cheats on his wife during work hours and goes on coffee dates at the SAME VENUE where we’re working on our events (while his wife is pregnant with baby # 2) then you’re a fucking genius.
This is a man who told an Italian woman, in her native language, during a business meeting that he’d like to take her to bed. It was his way of showing off that he’d been to Italy and knows a few broken phrases. Her horrified facial expression told me something was very wrong. She politely told him that it’s not appropriate to say that kind of thing, and that what he said to her in broken Italian is the equivalent of “vous le vous couche avec moi” in French. I guess he thought she was flirting with him cause he took her cell phone number, invited her out to parties, and told her he was single.
Of course I took the first opportunity to casually mention to her that he just welcomed a new baby girl. He denied it to her later.
Then there’s the assistant that has made me her new bff and will spend all day in my office chatting with me if I gave her the chance. I don’t mind the chatting so much, but it seems our friendship has taken a strange turn somewhere along the line.
You be the judge: Do you think it’s appropriate for her to tell me that her vagina’s too loose after having babies cause the doctors didn’t stitch her up well? And that she wants to get surgery to fix it cause her husband doesn’t enjoy sex, even though it doesn’t make a difference to her?
It’s moments like these that I wonder if I’m being punked.
That last entry I wrote wasn’t fueled by rage. It was fueled by a different kind of passion I can’t describe.
But when you work with some of the idiots I work with, well, I don’t really know how to finish that sentence.
Let’s take ‘cheater’ as an example.
If you guessed that he cheats on his wife during work hours and goes on coffee dates at the SAME VENUE where we’re working on our events (while his wife is pregnant with baby # 2) then you’re a fucking genius.
This is a man who told an Italian woman, in her native language, during a business meeting that he’d like to take her to bed. It was his way of showing off that he’d been to Italy and knows a few broken phrases. Her horrified facial expression told me something was very wrong. She politely told him that it’s not appropriate to say that kind of thing, and that what he said to her in broken Italian is the equivalent of “vous le vous couche avec moi” in French. I guess he thought she was flirting with him cause he took her cell phone number, invited her out to parties, and told her he was single.
Of course I took the first opportunity to casually mention to her that he just welcomed a new baby girl. He denied it to her later.
Then there’s the assistant that has made me her new bff and will spend all day in my office chatting with me if I gave her the chance. I don’t mind the chatting so much, but it seems our friendship has taken a strange turn somewhere along the line.
You be the judge: Do you think it’s appropriate for her to tell me that her vagina’s too loose after having babies cause the doctors didn’t stitch her up well? And that she wants to get surgery to fix it cause her husband doesn’t enjoy sex, even though it doesn’t make a difference to her?
It’s moments like these that I wonder if I’m being punked.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Monday, May 4, 2009
You Know What?
I don't care that my ex-stalker found my blog (maybe?)
I know he found out I got married and went on an angry rant. I don't care that he said harsh things about me and about the people in my life. All I care about is that he stays the fuck away from us.
I don't think he found the blog. I just think he did a simple google search and found my twitter page, as well as my wedding website.
It's been 4 years and he just won't let it go. Even when the FBI, Austin Police Department, and my embassy got involved. I guess that's what happens when you truly believe God talks to you. I just want to erase all of that from my life. And no matter how hard I try I still have nightmares about him molesting me.
That feeling in the pit of my stomach - it makes me sick. He makes me sick.
But he won't take this away from me.
I know he found out I got married and went on an angry rant. I don't care that he said harsh things about me and about the people in my life. All I care about is that he stays the fuck away from us.
I don't think he found the blog. I just think he did a simple google search and found my twitter page, as well as my wedding website.
It's been 4 years and he just won't let it go. Even when the FBI, Austin Police Department, and my embassy got involved. I guess that's what happens when you truly believe God talks to you. I just want to erase all of that from my life. And no matter how hard I try I still have nightmares about him molesting me.
That feeling in the pit of my stomach - it makes me sick. He makes me sick.
But he won't take this away from me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)