Lost.

My iPhone died late yesterday afternoon. I am lost.

No Words with Friends.

No Scramble with Friends.

No text with friends.

No Instagram.

::sob::

A friend on Facebook posted "Don't you feel free? Like, it's a vacation?"

No. No, I don't feel free! I am truly sad. I had to wake up to the buzz buzz buzz of an alarm clock instead of the lovely voice of the lovely George Michael singing "Wake me up before you go go!" I missed my 2nd alarm, as well...the equally lovely voice of the equally lovely Simon LeBon encouraging me to "Reach up for the sunrise! Feel the new day enter your life!" buzz buzz buzz

I was so desperate that I actually blew into the connector port of the phone like it was some video game cartridge! I'll have to spend my lunch across town at the Apple Store, praying they can fix it.

Until then, iSuffer.

Dilemma

OK - here's the situation...

A new job opportunity has presented itself to me. It's not full-time guaranteed work; though, I'm fairly certain work will be steady. I'll have no medical benefits nor retirement plan. I would be able to set my own work hours/work days. The job requires I move...to Maui. My initial reaction? I'm outta here! Without hesitation. I fell in love with Maui. I felt slow and happy and relaxed. Maui didn't feel like home; but it felt like it could be. I need more specifics re: the job and the reality of work. On my list of pros and cons, only two cons were listed: no medical benefits, no retirement. There's a slight queasy fear rolling around my stomach. And THAT gut feeling is what's pushing me, urging me to say yes, to pick up and move. Isn't that weird? My fear is compelling me to say yes instead of no. "More experiences" is on my 2012 goals list...it's an adventure! It's something new! It's me saying yes instead of no!

I'd miss my family. My parents are older, fairly healthy but, still, they're in their 70s. I'd miss my brother's kids growing up - 8, 6, 4, 1. My great-nephew was just born last month - I'd get to know him from afar. "Island fever" is a slight concern. Though Hawaii is much more expensive than the mainland, my lifestyle would be different, wouldn't it? My way of life, quality of life would change - for the better, right?

If I were 30, I'd be gone. Gone! I'm middle-aged for fuck's sake! What the hell am I thinking?! Give up a full-time job with security and benefits and retirement and stock? Am I crazy?? I may be. I'm giving this serious thought. As much as fear is propelling me forward, practicality is reeling me in - "Whoa! Easy, Turbo." I could be successful as a wedding officiant. When it comes to destination weddings, wouldn't couples want to be married by a kama'aina or kanaka? And, with civil unions legal in Hawaii, I'm sure steady work would be mine. There are several hotels on the island, not just the one resort. I could certainly build up business - website, word of mouth, convince all of my friends to marry in Maui.

So much to consider...oh, how I would love to do this, make this move...a lot of questions need to be asked and answered...what an incredible opportunity and experience! It's exciting and terrifying!

What are your thoughts? Am I crazy?

NaBloPoMo 11.9 - RIP Heavy D

just learned that Heavy D died today (11/8)...this scares the shit out of me.

He was 44.

I am 44.

He was overweight.

I am overweight.

This is fucking scary. And it's one of my greatest fears - to die in my sleep, unexpectedly. This is why I'm an insomniac. I don't want to go to sleep. When I was taken to the ER last year with chest pains, I set my alarm to go off every 45 minutes to ensure I'd get up...I know it doesn't work like that. It helped me at the time. But I know it's just not how it works.

Heavy D had lost a lot of weight. I don't know how he did it; just know that he did slim down a lot. According to news reports of his death, he had apparently/allegedly gained back 'some' weight. Did he have a stroke? Did he have high blood pressure? Did he lose weight too fast? Did he regain too much weight? Could his heart not take it? My mind is spinning and imagining all sorts of ridiculousness. This is fucking scary! If this isn't motivation to get my fat ass off the sidelines and join the game, then I am already dead.

I'm a fucking mess.

Memories Fade but the Scars Still Linger

The other night at the Hollywood Bowl, I was harassed by the Bowl security guards and a couple of women. Four different guards on four separate occasions asked to see my ticket. I was sitting in the Pool Circle, right in front of the stage. In order to get to your seat, the ticket is scanned then your hand is stamped. No one gets in unless they're scanned and stamped. So, one by one, these guards ask for my ticket, check it, hassle me because my ticket was for Seat 4 and I was standing at Seat 1. Each time, I let the guard know there were 4 of us in the group and I was certainly in the right place. After the 4th, and only apologetic, guard left, a woman approached me. [Sidebar: all of this is happening during the Fixx's set. Oh so wrong!] OK, woman approaches me, "Hi, this is my first time at the Bowl." Great, I say. You picked a good show to see for your first time here. "So, is this how it works? You stand while everyone else is sitting?" I look around. While some are sitting, a lot of the Pool Circle people are standing...I mean, the Fixx is singing "One Thing Leads to Another" and why would you sit? I tell her I came to dance to the *four dance bands* so that's what I'll be doing. "You're forcing me to stand." No. I'm not forcing her to do anything. "Well, we can't see because you're standing up and others are sitting down." I tell her I came to dance and have a good time.  She says more things. I don't. She walks away. I keep dancing.

For the rest of the night, she and her friend(s) hurled insults at me. Psh. Whatever. I'm above that. But, I have to admit it was annoying. "Fat ass! Bitch! I think the B52s are onstage but I can't see!" And then she says it. The one name that hurts me more than any other.

She called me 'Lurch'.

To understand this, I have to go back to elementary school. A group of boys at Mountain View Elementary School tormented me relentlessly. They always seemed to find me on the playground. 'Jolly Green Giant' was the collective favorite. Innocently, I would counter that name with "I'm not even green!" which would cause much laughter. One day, the group found me and started the ritualistic teasing. One boy called me 'Lurch' and the collective laughed louder and harder than I'd ever heard. I had no idea what the word was or why it was so funny. Too bad I found out. That name stuck with me throughout elementary school and into part of the 7th grade.

When that grown-up mean girl called me 'Lurch' the other night, I had a physical reaction. I was going to throw up. I balanced myself against the chair to stop from trembling. Tears sprang to my eyes. I was in elementary school. Wow. I've said the word, I've heard the word, I've watched the show. But, when tossed at me, I couldn't get out of the way.

The rest of the show was spectacular ~ I danced and sang off-key and made new friends, who were sincerely supportive throughout the evening. I definitely got my money's worth. And those women got to see me enjoy myself. What was I supposed to do? I was supposed to do exactly what I did.

Janis Ian's 'At Seventeen' shuffled onto my iPod about 45 minutes ago. And I had a good cry. I just needed to get this out.

Dr. Laura and the N-word

What is up with everyone using the N-word?!

Dr. Laura used it on her radio show...it's okay because you heard it on HBO? Oh, come ON. "Everyone else says it, so why can't I?" Ugh. Seriously? We have a black president now so it should be okay?

To me ~ doesn't matter WHO says it: Whoopi, Flav, some 15-year old black kid on the football field or some 15-year old white kid replacing "-er" with "-a" - the word is hate-based, degrading and intended to hurt.

No doubt the word is thrown around in homes, smoke-filled recording studios, amongst friends. In private. John Mayer tossed it out to a reporter of a national magazine. Dr. Laura said it several times in a short period of time to dozens(?), hundreds(?) of listeners nationwide (I don't know much about her show).

Have you ever been called that name filled with all the vile meaning and hatred intended? I have. My dad has. My mom has (she's Hawaiian!). My family has. Sticks and stones don't hurt as much as being called that name.

I know many in the music industry throw the word out there for shock value yet under the guise of "taking back the power." It's so pervasive and accepted; which is why white suburban kids don't understand why the word riles.

Don't tell me it's "just a word"...Dr. Laura said the caller had a 'chip on her shoulder' and had the fucking nerve to say "If you're hypersensitive about color and don't have a sense of humor, don't marry out of your race." Unbelievable.

2010.

I can't even get words straight in my head.

For the LAST time...

Yep, I'm tall.

No, my parents are not really tall, too.

You feel short next to me because, quite frankly, you are short.

Yeah, I bet you wish you were tall, like me.

And, I wear heels because, quite frankly, I rock the shit out of 'em.

Please. Stop. Thanks.

uh-oh...

looks like the beast that is Restlessness has been shaken and is currently stirring...just what I need. I can't go through this again. The wanting, the needing, the feeling, the knowing there's something else and/or something more for me beyond the four walls of my office. The uncertainty of what that something is or may be is what keeps me beating Restless back into submission again and again. I'm fearless a lot of the time. I'm fearful all of the time.

So many things are swirling right above my head, all within reach. I just can't decide what to pluck or what to shuck. I don't want to wait for everything to fall down on me, around me...

On another note...someone has returned to my life. It's peripheral, strictly words on a computer or cell phone screen. Talk about stirring. As much as I love the attention, this may very well be a huge mistake. Again.

On yet another note...longing to contact someone. I'm not sure how to do so, how to approach or if I should even bother. But this strange feeling, connection or chemistry or something is drawing me this way. Part of it is this whole caregiver thing I have...

Stopping.

NaBloPoMo 7.28 - the clown to the left of me...

The other night, during Squeeze's encore, a short (5'5"-5'6") guy danced up to me. I was in my happy bubble, as usual, so I paid him no mind. He moved to my left and started to bump me. Eyes on stage, I leaned down.

"You're tall" he says.
"Yeah, I know." I go back to singing the chorus of the encore. He bumped me a couple more times.
"No. I mean you're really, really tall."
"Yep. I really, really know that, too." He taps my shoulder several times, like a kid who tries to get an adult's attention. Still singing, eyes on stage, I lean down once more.
"Will you put me in your back pocket and carry me around?" I look at the strangely hopeful expression on his face and remain silent.

I hope that wasn't his 'A' game.

NaBloPoMo 7.26 - Summer Tour 2010: Denver

07.26.10
Las Vegas NV

Sitting in my hotel room, reliving last night, I decided to not blog about it. I mean, who the hell do I think I am?! I’m just me, so I settled on keeping part of this story to myself and my journal.

About 30 minutes ago, I read my friend Melanie’s latest blog in which she asked herself the same question: Who the hell do I think I am? Well, that’s been answered. Here we go:

I left Minneapolis to spend four days in Denver. This will be the longest stay in one place on my Summer Tour. Other than the show on Sunday, I was so excited to spend time with three good friends – Ruthie, Marc and Steve. I hadn’t spent much time in Denver when I was there as Miss Tall in 1997, so having time to see the city was exciting.

Ruthie and I met in the tall club, likely at an Orange County 2^nd Friday Night dance. We really came to know each other at the TCI convention in Clearwater Beach FL in 1997. She is such a sweet, witty and wise lady. I’ve always enjoyed her stories and company and her great laugh. Graciously, Ruthie was my airport shuttle and Denver tour guide. We lunched at this FAB restaurant called Encore on Colfax . Wow! The food menu wasn’t lengthy; but everything on the menu was such an interesting pairing/combination: seared scallops with watermelon/tomato/corn/fennel relish on mixed greens; fig & pig pizza (fig paste, prosciutto, gorgonzola); mac n cheese with English peas and toasted almonds. Such a delightfully different menu. So delightful, in fact, I went back the next day! Anyway, it was great to catch up with Ruthie…

Saturday afternoon was my Marco time! We met three years ago when he invited the BFFs to his time share in Puerto Vallarta. We got on great, had a great week in PV. The two of us spent a lot of time sitting on the patio or balcony, talking about music and life and everything in between. We became very good friends and stayed in touch. So, when he picked me up, we fell right into our easy chatter like no time had passed at all. I love friendships like that. We headed over to an area called the Highlands, to a bar called Lola. I was digging the vibe. It was eclectic and the crowd was age and ethnically diverse. I’d never seen so many inter-racial couples in one place! Honestly, did not think Denver would be so diverse. Marc and I abandoned Lola for the quieter Forest Room 5. This was a strange place – cuckoo clocks on the walls, a close-captioned Western showing on the wall above the bar, wood stumps for barstools, huge wood slabs (for lack of a better word/description) was the bar. Then, I spotted the Hendrick’s gin and all was less strange.

Sunday afternoon had me back at Encore restaurant with Steve and Chrissy. I’d heard so much about Chrissy that I just knew I knew her. And, it was an easy friendship from the get-go. The two of them walked into the hotel lobby and we hugged. Friends. Done. She is so lovely! And the two of them together are so fantastic. We caught up on life and chatted about John Mayer and Michael Jackson. Steve is out in SoCal often so we plan to get together again soon. Chrissy and I will make our own plans sans Steve.

Sunday night was the 2^nd show of Summer Tour 2010. The Ogden is a great theater – huge, open venue with a balcony and split levels. In terms of layout, I would compare it to the Wiltern. Squeeze had their merchandise set up in the lobby, sharing space with the bar. This left a corner inside the theater for the Beat stuff. Candy and I were elated – we’d be able to SEE the show, not just hear it, like at the zoo. We were so ridiculously giddy! When Squeeze came on to do sound check, the two of us stopped arranging the merch to sing ‘Annie Get Your Gun’ as loud as our out-of-tune voices could get.

While waiting, two people came into the venue.

“Hi. Aren’t you Shannon? Love Hope Strength…?” I’m sure she gets that a lot. Shannon is the Executive Director of the Love Hope Strength Foundation which provides support for cancer-care centers around the world.
“I am.”
“Hi – I’m Rissa…met you last year at the PhillyRocks event.”

Shannon and Jeremy were there for the LHS ‘Get on the List’ bone marrow donor drive. (Sidebar: it’s easy, it’s painless and it’s FREE to get on the list at concerts around the country this summer. Do it!). That table was set up on the other side of the venue, we said our “See you laters” and got on with our business.

The Squeeze set was most excellent! With each song, Candy or I would squeal “Ohh, I LOVE this song!” then start singing and dancing. “Goodbye Girl” is the one that makes us pause to relive the memories each of us has associated with the song. I love watching Stephen on the keyboards – he’s so energetic and looks mighty fine in a well-tailored suit. When he breaks out the iPad for “Pulling Mussels” it’s so awesome! Technology, meet the 80s. Fantastic, I say.

After the show, Shannon invited me to join her and Jeremy for a drink at a bar across from my hotel two blocks away. After saying my goodbyes, I walked down to meet them at the Irish Snug. However, they were nowhere to be found. Uh…okay. I’m looking both ways, ready to run across Colfax Avenue to my hotel when I hear yelling. “RISSA! RISSA! OVER HERE!”

I make my through the bar to the outside patio and am greeted by Shannon, Jeremy, Simon (Squeeze drummer) and…Glenn Tilbrook. My stomach did flips worthy of Olympic competition 10s! I’m fairly certain my face did not betray my giddiness. Glenn stood up, kissed my cheek, hugged me and said “It’s nice to see you again.” Naturally, I would like to think he would remember me from September 2009 in Philadelphia. The likelihood of that is unlikely. He probably remembered me from staring at him during sound check at the zoo three nights prior! No matter. I was just hugged by Glenn Tilbrook.

Let me just say this – it is awesome to see movie stars and celebrities when out and about. However, musicians and songwriters bring out the 12 year-old girl in me. I identify so much with music and lyrics; every important or life-changing or defining moment is associated with a song or three. So, meeting any of these brilliant musicians/songwriters is a huge deal for me.

We were joined by Stephen and Ray, keyboardists for Squeeze and the English Beat, respectively. I enjoyed chatting up Stephen, talking about walking in L.A., flying in a helicopter over the Grand Canyon, Las Vegas and franchising Hot Chick-a-Latte. He is adorable! (And the British accent does not hurt at all)

I moved back into conversation with Shannon and Glenn, talking about last year’s Mt. Kilimanjaro climb, the upcoming trek to Mt. Fuji, how to get the LHS/Get on the List word out at the rest of the shows and the closing of the Rocky Stairs at the Philadelphia Museum of Art for a two-year, $1.5 billion renovation. I must admit, a few times my mind shut-down and all I could think was “That is Glenn Tilbrook. Glenn. Tilbrook.”

Our night was cut short by the tour manager’s mildly scolding “The bus is leaving.” I was sad. I didn’t want it to end! We said our goodbyes to Shannon and Jeremy. Stephen and Glenn hugged me and said “See you in Vegas.” Simon chimed in “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right?” We shall see…

With that, I bid you a good-night from Las Vegas.

NaBloPoMo 7.5

I came across several blog posts and comments about compulsive hoarding. Like the impulse to pick at a scab, I read the blogs. As it turned out, most were nothing more than the hoarding entry from Wikipedia. The comments, however, were no copied paragraph. And, yeah, I read those, too.

A lot of the comments were professions of "I'm the complete opposite of a hoarder!" Quite a few were "Oh, I watch that show [Hoarders] and feel so sorry for the families that have to deal with hoarding..." Then, of course, there were the negative comments that got me all riled: "They're just lazy!" "Just throw that shit out!" "How can anyone live like that?"

Well, I am a compulsive hoarder and I am not lazy. If it were as easy as 'throwing that shit out,' I would have done it years ago! I wouldn't have agonized over four fucking handbags in the middle of my fucking apartment, wondering if I'd really get the fucking guts to send them to a friend. Yeah, this is exactly how I want to live my life! When I was a little girl, I dreamt of living in an apartment so cluttered that there would be goat paths leading to the bed, kitchen and bathroom. Yep, I imagined piles of clothes everywhere; imagined every flat space stacked with mail and magazines. My big dream of having no one visit my apartment - absolutely no one inside - has come to fruition. How many people can say their biggest dream has come true?

Hey thanks - your compassion is overfuckingwhelming.

Uh...

So, I'm in Torrid looking at shorts. The sales girl is very helpful, pulling out every pair of non-denim shorts they have. Unfortunately, most are short-shorts. And, I ain't trying to wear those. "No, those aren't age-appropriate" is what I repeatedly tell the sales girl. Finally, she gets it and I'm off to the dressing room with 3 pairs of shorts.

Also in the store, being helped by the same sales girl, is a teenaged girl and her mother. We follow each other around store: me picking up a top she puts down, she picking up shorts I put down. She ends up with an armful of clothes in a dressing room across from me.

The shorts didn't really work for me. No big deal. Ready to walk out, the sales girl comes back with one more pair. I step out to look at myself in the 3-way mirror. It's quiet...the sales girl and I have the same look - that scrunched-up nose thing...when the mother of the teenage girl says "Do you think those shorts are appropriate for a woman your age?" I turn and say "These shorts are appropriate for a woman with my legs."

In the dressing room, I was all "Some nerve!" By the time I made it to my car, I just figured she'd heard what I was saying to the sales girl in the store and wanted to chime in...or be helpful...or something. Whatever.

I didn't buy those shorts either.

Interrupting all programs...

So, there I was...sitting in my office, listening as my VP told stories of her trip to Cabo the weekend before...when I noticed pressure and a stabbing pain on the left side of my chest. There was no pain in my arm, no irregular breathing, sweating, nausea. Nothing. Just this pressure, this heaviness and stabbing pain. It was 9:30 a.m.

When hunched over my keyboard, the pain & pressure weren't as stabbing or heavy; so I sat like that. Until 11 o'clock.

That's when I had this tremendous explosion of pain on the left side of my head, behind my eye. Nothing happened to my vision; just pain in my head. And pain in my chest. Still.

I call Kaiser...talk to the advice nurse...and end up in the ER before noon.

All of the test results were good ~ blood pressure, blood test, x-ray, EKG. I left there 4 hours later with the pain unexplained. The doctor said the chest pains were likely due to stress and/or anxiety. "Do you have any stress in your life or at your job?" You're kidding me, right? *Sigh*

Anyway...I was sent home with instructions to 'rest and avoid stress.' You're kidding me, right?

I'm feeling mostly okay today, just a bit of discomfort.

Time off from work has been discussed with my boss; the dates TBD.

And how was YOUR Monday?

you know that dream where you're naked in front of everyone...?

That's how I'm feeling.
This whole Project Clutter has left me feeling incredibly vulnerable and exposed and raw. And, I don't wear it well.
Decisions...choices...reactions...actions...all made by True Reese...but the aftermath of feelings and reactions to those decisions/choices/reactions/actions are taken over by Vulnerable Reese. I'm a bit of a mess. I'm cluttered.
*Sigh*
I'll push forward, because that's what I have to do; it's what I intend to do.
Let's hope everything else aligns and becomes decluttered as well...

final assignment

The following essay is the final assignment for my writing class. The assignment? Write an essay.

Last year, ABC News did a feature called "What Would You Do?" The reporter, John Quinones, put real people in arranged situations to see how they'd react.

There was the girl in a restaurant seeing her best friend's fiance with another woman. There was the healthy 20-something girl parking in a handicap space. The mean girls scenario riled most people - women in particular. The black man yelling at and berating his girlfriend prompted only two women to come forward and offer help. Of all the scenarios, the ones involving race were disheartening. As I watched these scene replayed on Oprah, I had to ask myself: what would I do? As long as I wasn't putting myself in danger, I would speak up, I would offer help, I would do the right thing. Wouldn't I?

Every Sunday, I meet friends for brunch at Saddle Ranch. The staff know us and treat us well - part of the reason we go back every Sunday. The staff may know us, but that doesn't get us a table when there aren't enough waitresses. Sometimes, we have to wait.

Two weeks ago, I watched a man and his family push past the host - a young kid - and sit at the table next to us. The man was ranting about service while the woman and two tween-age girls just sat there. The man's ranting quickly became louder and more vicious as his remarks turned to personal attacks on the young host. The man was relentless with his comments, each ruder and cruder than the last. I was getting angrier with each comment. Until the girls chimed in. These two girls - not much older than 13 - made rude, inappropriate and downright mean comments about the host and his assumed (or is it presumed?) sexual orientation. I was offended and outraged. I was shaking. And I was silent.

I got up from the table and stomped to the bathroom. I was so upset with myself for not saying anything. Why was I so scared? What was there to be afraid of? I stood at the sink, breathless and breathing heavily at the same time. I stared at myself in the mirror - what if those comments were about race instead of sexual orientation? What if he'd have said "Nigger" instead of "Faggot" - would I have said something then? What if those comments were directed at me instead of that kid? Would someone speak up for me? Would someone be as livid and speak out?

I thought I would. I thought I could. I didn't.

I felt sick and sad for several days after. But I wasn't so sure who was worse - the man or me.

John Quinones said "Our lives begin to end when we stay silent about things that matter."

What would you do?

Can he really do this?! WTH?!

originally posted by beatgirl 10/28/08

- unbelieveable -

I cannot believe what I witnessed today...

I was at the downtown [Portland OR] Rite-Aid, standing in line at the pharmacy.
There were two girls in front of me and one was picking up her prescription.
I over heard the cashier say "Your prescription is ready but you wont be able to pick it up today. You will have to wait until tomorrow"

The girl was confused...as was I over hearing this.

The girl said "If my prescription is ready, why cant I pick it up? I need it today. "

She was a little frantic.

She said to the cashier "Its Plan B. I cant wait until tomorrow. Whats the problem?"

The pharmacist approached the counter and said "I have your prescription. I will not dispense it to you because it is against my religious beliefs. There will be another pharmacist working tomorrow. You can pick it up then."

My jaw hit the floor

Who the fuck is this guy? Who is he to impose his personal beliefs on customers? What if this girl was raped? Who the fuck cares what the reason she needed it for...who the hell does he think he is? Besides in the wrong profession.

The girl turned to me with a shocked look on her face and said "Can he do that?"

I said "I dont think so" I then gave her directions to another pharmacy in the area.

I proceeded (along with several of my girlfriends) to call the Rite Aid corporate offices and complain.

They were mortified. They said they would contact the store and find out what happened.

We then received a call from the pharmacy manager of the downtown store. She said that although she apologises for me overhearing the conversation that should have been more confidential, that the pharmacist has the choice of whether to dispense medication based on his beliefs.

WTF????

I went off on the manager for awhile and then told her that I will never step foot in Rite-Aid again.

And I wont.

This is not over.

~ Can he really do this?? I am stunned. I need to google this...