the fixer upper

I have a favor to ask. Have you ever said to yourself, “Eureka! I know the perfect person for janeintraining…”? Because let’s face it, I know you’re constantly thinking about me. But be warned: too much me will fry your brain into one of those charred and shriveled potato chips you occasionally find in an otherwise fresh bag. I hate that! What’s it doing in there?!?

Oh, right, my favor: DO NOT TELL ME YOU ARE FIXING ME UP. Bold, italic and underlined should tell you how serious I am about this. Never in the history of my blog have I used all three at the same time. (Or maybe I have. I’m too lazy to check.)

It’s way too much pressure. I will get stressed out and act how I think a normal person should act, which will result in an even weirder version of me.

…awkward…(like my dating life)

I suggest asking me to meet up for a glass of wine and I’ll be there without blinking. If you mention champagne, I’ll dress up and arrive a few hours early. And then you can casually introduce me to your brother/cousin/nephew/grandpa/son. This way, he’ll get a few minutes of normal before I start to turn.

This woman obviously cares more about her date than the champagne she’s about to spill. Where are her priorities?

I’m bringing all of this up because…

[a few months ago while getting my hair cut]
MyHairStylist: “Hey, I almost forgot to tell you – I have a client whose cousin just moved into town. She says he likes Asian women!”
Me: “…uh…” (brain short-circuiting)
Me: “…(mental capacity now like one of those charred chips I just talked about)…”

Is this what people do on dates now? Is this hygienic? Why is she hiding her hands? Has she fallen asleep from too much romance?

I’ve been single for the last four years, dating here and there. I like being single, except for when it sucks to be single. I have hope, but I don’t want to use that hope as a life preserver. I’m shifting towards being okay not finding that forever-and-ever person; rather, I want to connect with allies, gather a tribe, surround myself with a gaggle of heart-wise, laughter-invoking tricksters and soul-tenders. I want to add to my existing menagerie of superstar friends.

My brain has somewhat recovered and I’m more relaxed now about being set up. My initial thoughts of rejection, disappointment, and general fear have given way to the possibility of meeting a potentially awesome person to add to my menagerie. (Don’t worry, I don’t actually tell people this when I meet them. They might think I want to display them in a glass case with the rest of my collection of humans. Oops. I’m always revealing too much information.)

As 2016 swiftly approaches, I’ve decided to try looking at the world as a curious explorer. Somehow, this idea gives me more courage to move forward instead of staying still and worrying about an unpredictable outcome…

“A much more interesting, kind, adventurous, and joyful approach to life is to begin to develop our curiosity, not caring whether the object of our inquisitiveness is bitter or sweet. To lead a life that goes beyond pettiness and prejudice and always wanting to make sure that everything turns out on our own terms, to lead a more passionate, full, and delightful life than that, we must realize that we can endure a lot of pain and pleasure for the sake of finding out who we are and what this world is, how we tick and how our world ticks, how the whole thing just is.”

― Pema Chödrön, The Wisdom of No Escape and the Path of Loving-Kindness

 

Advertisements

heroes

two

I am not an alarmist.

Okay, I sort of am.

One time, I thought I was getting a strange skin growth on my face. Until I wiped it away. It was called peanut butter. Another time, I knew I was diseased when all of my fingernails suddenly turned orange. I forgot that I was experimenting with self-tanning lotion. (By the way, I also thought my car was diseased when the leather driver’s seat started to stain in strange spots.)

In 2013, when my friend Nancy told me she was feeling bloated and it wouldn’t go away, we  joked about gas like eight year-olds teenage boys two mature and sophisticated women. She subsequently went to get her colon checked. It was healthy.

It turned out that she had a late-stage ovarian tumor that had started to secrete fluid into her abdomen. She fought hard to kick cancer’s ass and gave it a tremendous fight, but a year and a half later, she was gone.

She was 52 years old.

My friend S recently told me she had been feeling bloated.

Alarm bells blared in my ears. I didn’t want to hear them. I didn’t want to share them with her. But I did because I told myself that if any woman ever used the word “bloated” in a conversation, I would inquire further and gently ask them to consider seeing their gynecologist. Many symptoms of ovarian cancer are disguised as common symptoms that we all experience.

S was one up on me. She had already seen her gynecologist and everything appeared fine. Phew. Stupid alarmist. Why did you have to scare the crap out of me?

But as it turns out, all is not fine.

Ovarian cancer is nefarious. It slips quietly into a room and by the time you notice it, it has taken up most of that space. It’s greedy. It wants more. It wants to suffocate you from the inside out. And you can look for all sorts of reasons why it showed up in the first place, but one of those reasons could simply be, as scientists termed it: bad luck.

I love my female friends. They are my support system. And I have a hard time understanding why I would even have to consider giving them up. Why are they being attacked? While I’m at it: breast cancer, leave us alone, too. All cancers. Just go away.

Stuart Scott, an ESPN anchor and sportscaster, recently passed away from his battle with a rare form of appendix cancer. About six months before he passed, he said these heroic and inspiring words:

“When you die, it does not mean that you lose to cancer. You beat cancer by how you live, why you live and the manner in which you live.”

My friend S is transcendently forgiving, full of grace, and tough as nails. She will be navigating her way with the kind of light that you need to see through those dark places.

They don’t call it the hero’s journey for nothing.

Gabriel Garcia Marquez

 

time

the road to point sur lightstation

I drove out to the Point Sur Lightstation last night to join one of the moonlight tours they offer every month. At first, my dramatic self didn’t want to go: Would being alone make the moon less beautiful? Would I feel even more alone going alone?

Get a grip, Sarah Bernhardt.

The wind up at the lightstation was fierce. I had visions of being tackled and catapulted across the ocean by this mack daddy of winds. I scanned the tour group to assess who would allow me to grab onto them without judging me. I now have a deep appreciation for sturdy frames.

As per usual, I was the only one who was there by themselves.

I’ve viewed a lot of sunrises, sunsets and moons as a singular person. In a way, I’m not really alone. It’s me and the sun. It’s me and the moon. Even when I’m with other people, it’s still just the two of us, sharing an understanding…sharing a secret together.

sunset

Last night I watched time pass as the sun set amidst a bank of clouds and the moon rose above the mountains.

moon

When I woke up in the morning, my hair was like the Salvador Dali of bird nests, tangled by sleep and that maniacal wind. And then during this very ordinary moment, time stood still. I found out my loved friend passed away from ovarian cancer some time this morning.

 …

“I don’t know, Jane…” She had said the last time I saw her. “The doctors say I have six months and I’m trying to be strong, but I don’t know…”

As I walked away from her, I suddenly turned back around, gave her a final hug and told her I loved her. We stood there together and cried in silence.

That was five and half weeks ago. And now she’s gone. My brain can’t compute it. But my heart, which I am learning to take more seriously, holds her close and revels for having known such a remarkable person.

I’m never alone. I never was.

Peace for Nancy. I hope she is seeing all of the most beautiful sunrises and sunsets ever imaginable.

light

“I just try to live every day as if I’ve deliberately come back to this one day. To enjoy it, as if it was the full final day of my extraordinary ordinary life…We’re all traveling through time together, every day of our lives. All we can do is do our best to relish this remarkable ride.”
~ “About Time”

The symptoms of ovarian cancer are often mistaken for other illnesses – for more information, please check out the American Cancer Society website to learn more about this disease.

*friendship

I’m single and I don’t have kids.

So if you want to marry me or be my kid (not both), I will mail you an application. You can tell a lot about a person from their handwriting and the way they construct their sentences. I need to find the right person to inherit my personal treasures:

"...my Preciouses..."

my Preciouses

 

In all seriousness, I’ve been thinking about drawing up a living trust/will. I simply cannot imagine leaving and not having the final say. And more seriously – I really do love my Preciouses.

Being in this mind space makes me wonder if I’ve expressed enough love to the people I love. Some already know because I’ve told them or have sent them a random text or email while high on caffeine, running or while possessed by some wide-ranging, renegade emotion. I also say it through food. Sometimes I pull their hair. There are so many different and creative ways of expressing it.

I’m not always a good friend. Relationships morph as you morph and break ups are difficult. Do you use a clichéd saying?: We’ve outgrown each other…We want different things, you and I…It’s not you/me, it’s me/you. You cannot say, “Let’s just be friends” because it’s totally counterproductive.

And then there are those who are stunningly beautiful in the ways that they are, and some way, some how, they look at the tumbledness inside of you and think you are stunningly beautiful, too. One of these beautiful creatures opened her home to me and let me stay with her for three months while I sorted out my life. I’m not sure I could have let myself do this or let someone else do this for me, except her. I love her with all of my heart and beyond. I’ve never said it to her in exactly those words; if I had, I’m sure she would have had me arrested for being overly dramatic, as is my wont. Thusly, my plan is to tell her posthaste! For my heart wills it. Exit stage left.

I guess that’s the point of a living will: to take care of business while you’re still able, and remind you to use your voice, arms, and yes, your oven, too, while you are still able. I wish more than anything that I could will everyone their hearts’ desires plus the belief that they can do whatever that thing is that makes them happy.

What the hell. Maybe I will add that to my wishes and demands. I wonder if you have to use law lingo for a document to be considered legal tender. (I feel like that sentence made me sound kinda smart.) Well, for now, I’m declaring it here. I’m feeling sentimental these days; so much so that my heart gets to aching because it feels like I’m not doing everything I can for the people around me.

I think I’ll go now and bake cakes for everyone…

friends

*for nancy

 

The Enemy of All Enemies

In the past couple of weeks I’ve learned of a handful of people passing away. Most of them suddenly, unexpectedly, swiftly. One in particular was a 47 year-old woman I used to work with. Cancer took her life in eight short months.

Cancer is my sworn enemy. And as my enemy…Cancer, you can suck it.

In fact, you can suck it big time: My good friend N is battling ovarian cancer. She started out at stage 4 in April 2013. The prognosis of this disease at that stage would lay anyone low. After enduring a multitude of tests, drainings, 12 weekly sessions of chemo, surgery, and currently more chemo, N just received the results of her CA-125. This marker measures the concentration of ovarian cancer cells, normal being at 35 and under. SHE WAS AT 8.

I flipped my lid when she told me and I cursed to the high heavens in happiness. True to form, she thanked me for making her experience less lonely, less scary. Seriously? How lucky am I to have a sistah and friend like her?!? I told her that she gave me strength. For real.

For the time being, N will continue her chemo sessions because her oncologist told her that the cancer cells could simply be “sleeping”. Oh? Then blast those suckers, I say. So far, she is tolerating chemo very well, thank goodness. I wish I could be there to celebrate with her.

I think I’ll go for a walk and celebrate the fact that I can.

Good health and wellness to everyone out there.