The Latest Fad

I honestly am so out of the loop when it comes to this obsession that many women are having with this book, 50 Shades of Grey, but frankly I don't get it. I am not certain if it's because during my single years (we will have to visit there so not to drag the hubby in this), I enjoyed my sex life.   I am beginning to suspect that plenty of women have been repressed, and are finding an outlet with this piece of erotic literature. Thing is, this story is not new. There was The Story of O long before Christian Grey and Ms Steele and in between there was The Gift of Submission. 

Perhaps it is that we have come a long way from the days of women hiding their sexuality, but then again there was that book in the 1970's that had a similar reaction called Wifey by Judy Blume. So again I am stuck as to the fascination with E.L. James and her trilogy. 

I have heard this book called "Mommy Porn", and "Soccer Mom's Guide to BDSM", the subject matter has received a lot of criticism, mostly from men. Which got me to thinking, if the women I suspect are repressed, it is the men who are their counterpart that are boring in the bedroom and are the harshest critics. No offense to the men, but I am hearing pundits and psychologists discussing this book and the women buying it. Even Dr Drew Pinsky has harshly criticized this book, saying the following;

"It is actual violence against women. I have to tell you, this is the part maybe I'll get heat for, but there is a lot of violence against children in this country. There are various kinds of physical abuse. People subjected to those experiences are especially aroused by these images. I'm not saying the average women can't be, but it's especially arousing for them."

Now I am sure for a moment a lot of women are going to attempt some of these "hot" moves from Christian Grey in the bedroom, but ladies please remember somethings are best left to you imagination. There should have been a sticker on the book saying DO NOT ATTEMPT THIS ON YOUR OWN.  I do not agree with Dr Drew, this is a fictional work about what many believe is sexual deviant behavior. The story however is about a little more than this, and the BDSM aspect is arousing, and does not mean that women have rape fantasies they want acted out.

As for the book itself, I did not find the writing all that sophisticated, nor could really get into the protagonist, that is just me and my opinion. The sex scenes were steamy, but lacked some credibility in the Master/slave relationship in comparison to The Story of O or the Sweet Surrender Series (another piece of erotic lit to get you going). 

I think the reception to 50 Shades is what is garnering our attention at the moment, more than the quality of the work itself.  Like most fads, this too will pass until something else catches our eye. Until then I am sure that riding crops, whips and paddles will see a sudden surge in sales. Women will be a little more wicked in the bedroom, and mates will enjoy the ride (pun intended). 

Maybe though we should take this opportunity to exercise the demons that lie in repressing our sexuality, and take some time to discuss and discover our needs in the bedroom. The one thing that the themes to these books is the woman's submission. Perhaps we are getting tired of making all the decisions, initiating conversation and intimacy. Submission is something we long ago abandoned for women's lib. Maybe, just maybe we can relinquish some with the one person we should, our sexual partner, this is  possibly the greatest trust exercise any of us can practice. 

Either that, or we can continue to read erotic lit, eat some Haagen Daaz  and fantasize. 

No quotes tonight, just a question. Have you read this book? or the series?
Until next time... 

I am NOT a morning person

There are many reasons why I love having a blog. First and foremost I feel that my posts allow me to hone my writing skills. I have noticed that there is more fluidity when I begin to type,less noise and this clarity is transferring to my manuscript. Secondly, I can share some wisdom or wit with others, so far I have received a warm reception. Finally, if I am going to be honest, this space gives me a place to rant about things that bug me, things that also seem to bug you all as well. Today's blog is one of those days!


Let me preface this by stating I am NOT by any means a morning person. I am so certain of this fact, that I have made a policy (since I can remember) not to accept calls before 9:30 am or before I have had my first cup of coffee. I tend to be abusive to those that break this rule with the exception of my mother, sister and husband. Now it isn't like I am not awake, I get up at 6am to wake up my kids, but the little one doesn't leave until a few hours after my eldest, so my coffee time is delayed. A few friends have on occasion broken the rule and have found themselves on the other end of my tirade, but then again I have forewarned them. 


The tirades I give to friends and acquaintances are not laced filled with obscenities; those are reserved for "special" people. Yesterday morning at the ungodly hour of 8:31am I received such a call. Looking back, I feel sorry for the poor bastard, but I was back in my bed since my little one still was sleeping until the disruption. Here is our conversation, please forgive my gutter mouth, like I said I am not a morning person.

Phone (Ring Ring)
me (bleary-eyed, groggy and hoarse): 'Hello?'
Chipper eager voice:  "Good morning, may I speak to your husband?"
Me (waking up & curious): "May I ask who is calling?"
Chipper schmuck: "Well it's not necessary, I can speak with any adult in the house."
Me (now getting angry since I know this isn't important): "What are you selling?"
Chip the schmuck: "Oh no, not selling, just asking for contribution to the NY State Trooper Police Benevolent Association and I ..."
Me (officially PO'd): "I swear by all that is Holy if you do not remove my number from your list I will hunt you down and you will need to call the police for help!"
Schmuck (now bewildered): "There is no reason to threaten ma'am."
Me (getting ready to take the train to crazy town): "There is when you call me for bullshit at 8:30!"
(I hang up the phone)
It is now 8:37 am, and here comes my little one. "Mommy I want breakfast please!" There go my extra zzz's.


The clock now says 9:00am and I am in the kitchen, tending to the little one who is going to school at 12noon. I feed her breakfast, and get ready to start making my coffee. I am interrupted with the ringing of the phone. Looking at the caller ID, and don't recognize the phone number. Again, I apologize, I really cannot stress how much I hate the morning before coffee. I am great after, but to be truthful this isn't how I am once I drink some coffee, it's just before that is bad. Although to confess, I still despise telemarketers.


Phone (Ring Ring)
Me (annoyed waiting for coffee to finish steeping): "Hello?"
Another schmuck: "Yes hi there, I am looking for Mr Benjamin"
Me (rolling my eyes): "What for?"
Idiot who has no idea what is about to hit him: "Umm yeah, well this is Tommy calling from Proactive."
Me (trying not to cuss): "What is Proactive?"


Now let me stop and pause right now to explain. I didn't recognize the name of the product because I do not have any cognitive thoughts, other than care for the kids; before I have had my coffee. So when I asked the question I was not being sarcastic, I was still in my walking around functional coma. Now back to my verbal assault.


Idiot Tommy from Proactive that is about to cry: "Proactive is an acne medication that ..."
Me (now completely on the verge of a psychotic break cutting off the 2nd schmuck of the morning): "Listen my husband does not suffer from acne, and we are on the DO NOT CALL LIST! Take our number off your call list."
Idiot (now taking his life in his hands being assertive): "Well we aren't calling you, we are calling him."
Me (PSYCHO): "LOOK HERE MOTHER FUCKER, THIS IS MY PHONE, MY TIME IF YOU CALL THIS HOUSE AGAIN NOT ONLY WILL I SUE YOUR COMPANY BUT I WILL MAKE IT MY MISSION TO HACK YOUR ACCOUNTS FIND YOU AND CALL YOUR ASS EVERY FUCKING DAY AT 7AM!"
Whimpering idiot Tommy: "There is no need to be so hostile, I noticed your hostility since I first called."
Me (Still PSYCHO): "WELL YOU CALLED ME, JACK ASS, I DIDN'T CALL YOU!"
Tommy the ass pushing his luck: "You don't need to be so rude."
Me (agitated and thinking how can I hack this company directory to hunt this guy down): "NO, Rude would be me blowing a rape whistle into the phone!!"
Shocked, whimpering Tommy the ass from Proactive: "Well I don't need to hear you curse at me lady."
Me (Full Blown PSYCHO): "YEAH, WELL GO TELL YOUR MOTHER ON ME! JUST DON'T EVER CALL ME AGAIN YOU DUMB ASS!"
Idiot Tommy: "I don't see what I did to you."
Me: "Really? You called to sell me crap I don't need, and all before I had my coffee!"
Hanging up for second time.

Now I know that some of you are aghast at my behavior. It is shameful and if I were still a practicing Catholic I would have to make a trip to the confessional. Okay, I admit that I went nuts, lost control, I am not a morning person! Shoot me! Just don't ever call me in the morning before my first cup of coffee. Still I have to wonder what was the point of registering my numbers on the DO NOT CALL LIST if these people are going to call me anyway.


Side note: I haven't received another call from any telemarketers since. I suspect that I have been tweeted about by the poor saps that called me in the morning. Maybe they collectively warned other telemarketers not to call my number. Nah, just wishful thinking!!

Quote time, and yes even for this I can find a quote or two:

"A morning without coffee is like sleep." ~Author Unknown
 
"I'm old enough and cranky enough now that if someone tried to tell me what to do, I'd tell them where to put it." ~Dolly Parton

"I'm multi-talented: I can talk and piss you off at the same time"~Author Unknown

"The morning cup of coffee has an exhilaration about it which the cheering influence of the afternoon or evening cup of tea cannot be expected to reproduce." ~Oliver Wendell Holmes

Happy Mother's Day

This Sunday we celebrate Mother's Day. The one day a year when we collectively take a pause to celebrate the woman who gave us life. Think on that, the one day, not weekend, or the month, just ONE DAY. Everyone on Earth has a mother. Some are wonderful and some should have sought psychological treatment. I want to focus on those of us who are good at our job. We have helicopter moms, working moms, soccer moms and super moms, the key word here is "Mom". I am a mom, mother if my kids are annoyed with me, mommy when they need me. I love the mommy days. My children range in age from eighteen to four years and all are girls, which means chances are one day they too will be moms.

Every year when this day comes around I brace myself, because even though this day is supposed to be MY day, in the house I am still doing my due diligence of tending to my children's needs. Moms never get a break, not even on Mother's Day! We are the backbone to the family, the glue that holds it together. Our jobs include knowing where every item in the house is located at all times, being able to play referee when the occasional squabble breaks out, be fashion advisers, lovelorn assistants, and medics for all emergencies. Some of us cook, clean the house, act as laundress, chauffeurs, sometimes have to tackle new math problems and so help me, know all the latest slang and cyber hieroglyphics. Our jobs are not easy, and the pay is very little, but a kiss or hug from your child in gratitude is sometimes enough. We do not take vacations and is the one job where we can say; if we are out sick everything falls apart! God bless my husband, but to be honest he is too incompetent to do my job! I am not even sure he knows where the juice boxes are located, or what temperature you use to clean whites.

Mothers begin the journey into this life long career with the physical abuse of our own bodies, being fattened and contorted to give a new being life. We then undergo one of the most painful and grueling process of giving birth, only to be reminded, from your at times snarky teenager, that you chose to have them, they didn't ask to be born. Our bodies become like that of a combat warrior, surviving the nine months of hell it took to get here, then all is forgotten when they place this child in your arms. We mothers coo incessantly with pride and joy, excited at the anticipated journey where we will act as guides to our children through life. There will be trials, there will be hard times, but, along the way there will be new discoveries and bliss, making all the sacrifices we do seem well worth it.

It takes a special kind of woman to be a mom. It is in this role we are on call twenty-four hours a day for seven days a week. No break, no lunch hour, no paid vacation days, yet we take to it with delight. In no other job have I held previously did I have to do so many tasks at once. It is a job you cannot quit, no matter how taxing the responsibilities are to these little people. There are those days when you can even forget your birth name, after hearing "Mom" being sounded off throughout the house, followed by demands, pleads and the ever so appealing whine. When these moments happen I found it best to make an announcement that "Mom is unavailable to leave a message at the beep, or call George" (my alias unbeknownst to them). The beep never comes. While I find this slightly humorous, my kids are generally left confused. Humor is perhaps the one thing that most mothers keep in our arsenal to help us endure the exhausting feat of raising these independent personalities, into productive members of society. Without our sense of humor, we would be wearing new white coats, the ones with the arms that wrap behind the backs and left alone in a sparsely decorated rubber room. I know to some of you the thought of having a few moments alone, no matter how it comes,does sound refreshing and appealing. Still I think we will sojourn on, for there is a light at the end of this tunnel known as Motherhood.

I am fortunate to have had my mother show me what a good mother is. Asides from imparting me with her humor and wit, she taught me patience, consistency, the difference between rewarding and spoiling, and compassion for others. The most important lesson she imparted on me was love. My mother taught me how to love and how to give love unconditionally, best of all how teach my kids to recognize love. There are days, after dealing with my own children, I feel compelled to call her and apologize for whatever ills and stress my childhood might have brought upon her. I know she finds this quite entertaining and also rewarding. After all, she did give me the infamous "Mother's Curse", you know this one; where you wish upon your own child to have one just like them one day.

So when Sunday morning comes, and we moms get the traditional breakfast in bed of burnt toast and bad coffee with the cards and home made gifts, we will smile and say thank you. Knowing all the while the mess in the kitchen that awaits us, remember we did sign up for this. Cherish these moments, for one day, in a blink of an eye it will be part of days gone by and we will receive the obligatory Mother's Day phone call. Leaving us longing for the noise, mess and home made cards and gifts. 


On Mother's Day take a moment, and enjoy your child(ren). Play referee if you must and tackle the kitchen mess, but remember to savor the moments. Think of your own mom and give her a call to say "Thank you". After all, that is all any mother wants, to simply know that their children are grateful for the hard work that we do. We just want to know that we are appreciated.


Happy Mother's Day to all the mom's in the trenches!  To my own mother, there aren't enough words to express the gratitude and love I have for you. Thanks Maman!

Now you have my take on motherhood, and of course I will leave you with some quotes. These by a few funny mom's trying to do as we all do; survive motherhood;

"When your mother asks, 'Do you want a piece of advice?' it is a mere formality. It doesn't matter if you answer yes or no. You're going to get it anyway."~ Erma Bombeck

"I want my children to have all the things I couldn't afford. Then I want to move in with them."~Phyllis Diller

"I know how to do anything—I'm a mom."~ Roseanne Barr

"I take a very practical view of raising children. I put a sign in each of their rooms: “Checkout Time is 18 years.”~Erma Bombeck

"Mothers of teenagers know why animals eat their young." 

Reality Bites

Every story has a beginning, a middle and an end. My favorite part is the middle, that is the teeth of the matter, the heart. Then again I love a good beginning, the set up, laying out the scene, preparing me for what should come. The end however, not so much. Here is where we are sometimes met with a let down, the climax is over, and to be honest if the book is good enough I hate to say good-bye to the characters. The same is said for a good movie, or television show. The key to all of these things is good writing. You have to have a story teller, to convey the idea to people. It can be fiction or fact, everything has a story. Thank God for that, otherwise my lofty goals are for naught. 

However, there is a growing systemic problem that is beginning to corrode the creative process of producing good works on film and television. What is this purveyor of doom in the modern world? Reality television. I know I am sounding off like a scene from The Music Man shouting "what's wrong right here in River City", but it is the truth.

They say that television is a reflection of society and what it values. I have to say if it is, we are collectively in trouble. Please understand I am not complaining about Talk Shows, Variety Shows, or Cooking shows, not even the news (although I do have a beef with the media, and we will get into that in a moment), this is a complaint about watching self indulgent adults behaving badly. This is what is being passed off as television. Little by little I am watching the erosion of quality scripts, being quickly replaced with what some feel is "REAL". 

Let us examine what the networks are calling "Reality". Allegedly unscripted shows with scripts and takes to be edited. I will not call out any one particular show, they all seem to follow the same format. Pretty young women, handsome young men, someone yelling and fighting, getting attention. Maybe toss in something scandalous or salacious for good measure. This is NOT quality. I do not know of one single parent who catches an episode of any of these shows and thinks; "Gee I hope my son/daughter can grow up to be just like Reality Star X." Nor do I know of anyone that is glad to have another well written show cancelled.

It is a systemic problem, and to be truthful the only reality that is being reflected is the greed factor of the Network executives saving money by producing trash. In the 1990s we would call this kind of television "Garbage TV".  Shows like Jerry Springer were not must watch TV, but viewed as televised train wrecks. Now we have these same people, who were once viewed as pathetic out of control lost souls, becoming the modern day celebrity. They have not won an Oscar or an Emmy, nor would their talent for trash talking and table tossing be considered for a SAG award, yet here they are gracing the Red Carpet at these same events. I think the final straw for me was upon visiting colleges with my daughter, one mentioned that "Snooki" spoke at the school. Seriously, this was a selling point? To mention that a woman whose highlight is that she got punched in the face by a guy in a bar, was a speaker at the school is not impressive!

This past Friday night I had to say goodbye to a good show, not great, but it had good bones. In Plain Sight had its series finale. I didn't understand why a show that had good ratings, by all means viewed as a hit is being cancelled. It appears that the horses have left the stables on this one, and if we the viewers do not get riled up we will have more nonsense on the boob tube, finally earning its moniker. If we took action, which by the way is not yelling at the networks, but boycotting the sponsors, attention will be paid. This is one area where we hold the power, because the bread and butter for every network is in its advertisers. Second to that are the ratings. So I am imploring you all to cut it out with riding the "reality television" bandwagon and demand that we have quality shows once again. Unless of course you enjoy having over one thousand channels and nothing new to watch that truly engages you, not just titillates you.

There must come a time when we draw that proverbial line in the sand, I believe the time is long over due. When technology has allowed us access to so much, why are we willing to settle for so little.  Earlier I mentioned I had a few words for the news outlets as well., here it comes. They (news media) are not helping us in this fight, if anything they seemed to have hitched their wagons to the that of Reality TV. When I was learning about journalism one thing sticks out in my head that the professor told  us, news should be Fast Accurate Correct and True and inform the public of the events that effect everyday life.  Today, top news stories include snippets from TMZ or some reality star's newest relationship. This is not news, back in the day we called this gossip. I am certain that the likes of Edward R Murrow and Walter Cronkite are rolling in their graves. It is a sad day in America when it is not the economy or presidential election that leads the news, but Snooki going into labor. I believe we are on the cusp of such a thing occurring, so brace yourselves because it is a straight shot into hell when that day finally comes.

Perhaps it is the writer in me that is frustrated, or the fact that as I approach middle age, nostalgia makes me yearn for a time gone by. Whatever the reason, the issue still exists, and to be completely honest with you, this is not the legacy I want to leave my kids. Bad enough I am sure my use of AquaNet in the late 70's and early 80's has attributed to Global Warming. Regardless of the whys, hows or the guilt of global warming, it is important that something is done before we are no longer contributing to our society with great performances,


Tonight's quotes on the subject of television;

"Television could perform a great service in mass education, but there's no indication its sponsors have anything like this on their minds." ~Tallulah Bankhead

“Real love involves a foundation of respect, honesty, and trust, concepts wholly missing from the pale imitations hawked to us by the folks who script 'unscripted' entertainment.”
― Jennifer L. Pozner 

“History is gossip that's been legitimized, and that's really the case when you get into some of the Roman historians. Wow! They'd be right at home on reality TV.” ― Esther M. Friesner

"If I wanted to watch cat fights, see the latest tacky fashion and hear people scream all day I would never have left the city"~ TV Blog commentator (when asked about Real Housewives of New Jersey)

Farewell to the King of the Wild Things

“Oh, please don't go—we'll eat you up—we love you so!”  

MAURICE SENDAK 

JUNE 10. 1928 - MAY 8 2012

Lately it seems as though this blog is becoming a place for me to say goodbye to the people of the past. While I was writing at the paper, my first job was writing the obituary, I am beginning to feel as though as I am reliving my past career once again. This time the literary world is mourning the loss of Maurice Sendak, who passed away earlier on Tuesday.  Some of you may not be familiar with his name, but I am certain most of you are well acquainted with one of his most famous works; "Where the Wild Things Are".  To me, he was much more than that one book, to me he was the gatekeeper to the world of imagination. That one book changed everything for me at the tender age of six. 

I still can remember the excitement I felt when I first read this story, sitting in the school library at Immaculate Conception on the floor cross legged in my uniform engrossed with the drawings. I knew I was Max and when I got home I too would be able to travel though the days and weeks, into the month and year onto the ocean just past  the forest that had grown in my room. I couldn't wait to see the wild things gnash their teeth and roar their terrible roars. What Maurice Sendak did in that little book was draw a dream that enveloped me and encouraged me to read more. I never lost my desire to read and to dream. That same desire is what fueled my yearning to absorb more books, which in turn helped create my need for words. It is also the same craving that has given me the drive to write my poetry and now my manuscript. From one book, like a flash of lightening, my imagination was given birth to and the longing of more places that my mind could visit and create was unleashed. 


"Where the Wild Things Are" was not Maurice Sendak's only creation, he had many others turning Children's Publishing on its ear with his characters being more mischievous, more imaginative. His infamous illustrations pushed the envelope for many, being viewed as too intimidating for a young audience. I have to admit that when I first saw the monsters created by Jim Henson for Sesame Street, I was not afraid. Looking back now I have to wonder how much did that 1963 book and illustration influence Mr Henson.


Being an author of his own children's book was not his initial start. Maurice Sendak began his career as an illustrator. Using paints, pencils and color he created scenes that could engage a child's mind. I can remember getting my hands on another mischievous character named "Little Bear", also illustrated by Mr Sendak. 

Today in a world filled with electronic gadgets, video games and portable televisions some believe we are losing the ability to capture readers, especially young ones. I argue only if we don't expose the newest generation to books like those of Maurice Sendak do we face such a fate. As a mother of two, I gave my daughters a copy of that book, and had them learn to read it so they too can find themselves traveling into the forest. I celebrate with them as I read them that story, encouraging the little one to get loud and jump around when the "wild rumpus starts".

I am an aspiring writer with dreams of finding success, not in selling numerous books (although that too would be nice), but to know that the world I wove with my words allowed someone else to travel with their imagination. To have a reader venture into a world I created, where its beginning was simply started in a dream, transcribed onto paper. 


So tonight. as I read that very story to my child before bed, in hopes her own creative mind will spark, I will close the book and think back to myself at six, sprawled on the floor and thank Maurice Sendak. Thanking him for having created a world that allowed me to be wild, free and to roam wherever my mind and words could take me.  

             “And [he] sailed back over a year
              and in and out of weeks
              and through a day
              and into the night of his very own room
              where he found his supper waiting for him
              and it was still hot” 
                         ― Maurice Sendak, Where the Wild Things Are 

I thought I would share a few quotes, some that surprised me, by Maurice Sendak himself;

“Peter Rabbit, for all its gentle tininess, loudly proclaims that no story is worth the writing, no picture worth the making, if it is not a work of imagination.” ― Maurice Sendak, Caldecott and Co.: Notes on Books and Pictures

“Children do live in fantasy and reality; they move back and forth very easily in a way we no longer remember how to do." ~ Maurice Sendak 

“F**k them is what I say. I hate those ebooks. They can not be the future. They may well be. I will be dead. I won't give a s**t.”
― Maurice Sendak

“I cry a lot because I miss people. They die and I can't stop them. They leave me and I love them more.” ― Maurice Sendak

And The Beat Goes On

Today we say goodbye to another artist from the soundtrack of my youth.  Adam Yauch aka MCA from the Beastie Boys passed away earlier on Friday. His music with the Beastie Boys came in the 80's when much of Hip Hop was new, influencing future generations. I was one of the millions of "kids" that was a fan.  Admittedly, "Fight For Your Right" was my theme song, probably still would be if I didn't have to do that pesky thing most of eventually do,... grow up and become a responsible adult. My condolences to his family, the Beastie Boys and the fans.

Today it dawned on me, that little by little, I am saying goodbye to my soundtrack. My life had been scored with music and many in the industry have gone to play in a larger band.  In the recent years we have bid a fond farewell to Robert Palmer, Ike Turner, Isaac Hayes, Aaliyah, Lisa "Left-eye" Lopes, Ray Charles, Johnny Cash, Maurice Gibbs, George Harrison, Jason "Jammaster J" Mizell, Luther Vandeross, Michael Jackson, Amy Winehouse, Whitney Houston, Don Cornelius, Dick Clark, and now Adam Yauch. The list is becoming endless.  Even a local New York radio station, KISS FM 98.7 has gone off the air. Still, I can remember dancing to their music on my radio in my pink floral bedroom. I can remember getting ready for a date, or going clubbing with my friends with the radio playing in the background as I applied my makeup.

In my mind's eye I am still sixteen, lip-syncing to my hair brush. I am still the young girl learning new dance steps and getting mix tapes from boys trying to woo me.  I savored their music, and those times, but I am not sixteen anymore. Although at times wistful for those days, when the world was still new to me and whenever I was sad I could listen to a ballad. When Hip Hop music was in it's infancy, playing the vinyl (yes I said vinyl) of Rappers Delight until the needle wore a groove in it.  The soundtrack that helped launch me into adulthood, romance, marriage and rescue me during my divorce, slowly is coming to a close.

While I was reflecting on my past radio loves, I watched my own daughters dance around to their music, creating their own soundtracks. I smiled watching the older one try to teach the little one how to "Dougie", reflecting on my own days of the cabbage patch and running man. Although the music tracks that are generally played in my home reflect a newer generation, I am happy to know music is still a great part of my life.

There is a quote by Nietzsche that comes to mind as I write this blog; “And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.” I have always heard the music, and I am grateful to the artists who have shared their talents with us over the years.  I have lived and I relied on music to get me through the tough times, and ease my soul during the trying times. I have celebrated with joy and merriment, all while gyrating my hips to the beating tempo of great music. 

So I thank them one and all, past, present and future for sharing their souls, their music. Most of all thank you for giving me such great theme music and a wonderful soundtrack.

No quotes tonight, but I am leaving you with this video from the theme song of my youth!

In memory of: Adam Yauch

 (August 5, 1964 - May 4 2012)

Nursery Rhymes and Shakespeare Oh My!

Do you remember that old nursery rhyme about an old woman who swallowed a fly?  She swallowed a spider to capture the fly, then swallowed some more crap, rather then just spit the spider out!  I mean what was she doing to swallow a spider to begin with?  Was it a dare at the retirement home? Yeah, well I never got it either as a kid. What I do know is that there are medications out there, that for whatever ghastly reason we must take in order to get better, but no one focuses on the side effects.

Recently I became a raging loon. I can say that now because I know who I am, I am well aware of my faults. I am outspoken, loud and brash. I prefer to think of them as qualities to my endearing personality. Until last week! 

Before I continue, I must first apologize to my patient husband, who was made a victim to my recent lunacy, and my teenage daughter. Somehow the little one escaped the complete insanity, most likely because at four years of age she is on her own crazy trajectory, little people are not sane. This period of time found us becoming buddies, as I her mother, slowly disappeared into a crazed monster. 

I had to undergo a treatment of IV Cortical Steroids. Now let me expand on this for you to completely understand. I had an IV with steroids being pumped into me for three days.  The "benefit" of this was to bring down the swelling on my nerves, so that I could function once more. This is not the first time that I have had to undergo this course of care, but it is the first time that I am going to write and tell the tale of me and steroids. Frankly, I normally stay in the hospital for the week when undergoing this treatment because I am in need of physical therapy as well. Not this time, and someone should have warned my husband what fate awaited him.

I have heard the typical warnings of steroids, like most of you, the rages, acne, burst of strength. What I had been clueless too were how these are coupled at once when given a dose via the IV. Steroids do not effect everyone the same way, but the vast majority of people on them do suffer. What they should do is warn the family members that shortly after beginning the course a monster may be unleashed in their midst and to take cover. 

I will begin to describe how after the first half hour of the IV, everything that I drank, including water tasted like metal. Not that I have made a habit in my life to consume chrome, but I imagine that if I were to start, this is what it would taste like.  This was merely the beginning...

It is hard to find the words to explain the hunger that overcame me next. Only complicated by that "everything tastes like metal thing" going on in my mouth, I wanted FOOD! Evidently, when on steroids not all foods are what you crave, this would be too simple. I craved salty foods, which compounds the other side effect of water retention. Now does any of this sound like fun to you?  Regardless, I ate, limiting what I took in, because my hunger is scaring me a bit, and what is more I am getting scared that the metal taste is now becoming acceptable and a little palpable.

Would it be too much to ask that this be the end? Of course, because that was within the first hour, we have a few more days to go here.  Let's get to psycho. Psycho would be the mental deterioration that my mind begins to go into after I am done with the first course. Psycho is the woman that cried at commercials and wept at the story of a puppy that wound up in a cactus. I am not given to outbursts of emotions, but I was going from happy, nay mania, to depression to absolute anger over the most banal things. At one point my mind dare allowed itself to day dream getting into a fight with Iron Mike Tyson! Asides from arrogance to think I had a chance with anyone, what kind of crazy does a person have to be to even envision fighting Mike Tyson?! I dread the idea to further explore that thought process.

Alas, if it were only a tale of being an emotional roller coaster, there are more side effects yet to be explored. One thing my body seems to want me to do is find all its got to give when it came to side effects. Next came the freezing sensation. Freezing is an understatement, to more accurately describe this feeling would require you to take two poles of dry ice and insert them where your leg bones are. Freezing would have been a welcomed friend compared to this! When this sensation finally decides to leave another side effect pops up for good measure. 

The hits just keep coming. I am now going into the next phase, and for me this means acid reflux, heartburn and other pleasantries. My stomach acted as though I went on some acid ingestion bender and it was determined to teach me a lesson. How attractive am I at this point, with belching now being done by me, as if it were an event in the Summer Games this year in London and I was in training.

All of this is only met with the lack of sleep. Remember that line from Shakespeare in Hamlet's soliloquy; "To sleep, perchance to Dream; Ay, there's the rub, For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come"; well I suspect that the young Dane prince was coming off of steroids. I am still going without sleep a week later. This can be great if you are in need of studying for college finals, or finishing a project for work, but when your only job is to get bed-rest to get better, insomnia is not the most effective side effect.

So, to conclude, I had been reduced to tears, fits of rage (with the added bit of delusion; see Mike Tyson), feeling so cold I burned, following an insatiable need to eat massive quantities of food, followed by heartburn so bad I hated myself, and bursts of energy and the inability to close my eyes to sleep for one moment. Yes, I know about side effects, and I suffer from them, and I am not alone. This is what I have to go through to get better, sadder than that, it is what my family has to deal with in the wake of my steroids.
Just think, this blog entry was  based on only day one! 

To leave you without a quote would be so unlike me, so here it goes;

"Healing may not be so much about getting better, as about letting go of everything that isn't you - all of the expectations, all of the beliefs - and becoming who you are." - Rachel Naomi Remen

"You can set yourself up to be sick, or you can choose to stay well."~ Wayne Dyer

10 Things I Learned About Myself

You know there is an old adage that says; "That which does not kill you, makes you stronger" and another one that is often touted about; "God does not give anything that you cannot handle". Growing up, upon hearing bad news, I would listen to adults say these phrases to others in need of solace.  I had begun to think it must have been in the bible, or these people had an insight that I had yet to understand. To me these were merely words of comfort. Little did I know how those very same words would re-enter my life. As some of you already know I have Multiple Sclerosis, MS for short. I have never really discussed my illness with others, I just gloss over it. I tend to say "I have MS" with the same tone that I would say; "I have to go to the Post Office" or "I have a toothache". No big fanfare, no grand pause, just a flat statement. I suppose upon much introspective self examination, (you know me and the self-realizations), I thought I would make it a topic in my blog, at least once.

To begin at the beginning; I am approaching my tenth anniversary, not of my marriage, or graduation, but of my diagnosis. There isn't one MS patient out there who doesn't remember their diagnosis date. This is the date our world crashes around us, when the earth drops out from under our feet, and when the universe and our own body seems to have teamed up to engage in a game of betrayal so great, we don't know how we will overcome it.  A few of us, sadly do not, and enter into a world of depression that it takes them before the disease can. This is not MY fate. I won't let this be my fate. 

Let me tell you how this all began, back in 1995 I threw a party for my online friends. We were all laughing and having a good time. I was single, and pretty much was getting more than just my flirt on. There was a point that I as hostess, got up to the stage to thank them all for showing up and suddenly I fell. It was as if someone cut the strings from a marionette, BOOM, down I went. I got up and played it off, some thought I had too much to drink, unbeknownst to them I had consumed no alcohol. It was jarring to me, but figured I would deal with it later. It didn't happen again for a long time. Then fast forward to 2002. I had a morning routine, get up with my daughter, get her ready for school, go for a run, come home, shower, dress, get to work. Same thing everyday, Monday through Friday, but for some reason I was tripping when I ran. I would look around for holes in the ground, none could be found. Then one day while at work, I felt dizzy and hot. I thought I had the flu and asked to go home, my boss refused, and after she left I knew I had to get home. Delirious, I drove home and went straight to bed. I took a nap, but when I awoke my world was altered, FOREVER. Everything that I knew to be true about me, my life, my dreams were about to be torn asunder, for when I woke from that blissful nap I had no use of my legs. I couldn't feel them, control them, they were no longer my legs. The same legs that let me run, climb trees as a kid, chase my own child around and held me steady as I carried her back to her bed countless times, were no longer there. They were no more. 

The event: I was burning up, I thought if I got into the tub I could cool myself off and whatever was happening to me would end. I low crawled (for all you army personnel you know of what I speak), to the bathroom I went. Once I got there I did not have the strength to hoist myself into the tub. I low crawled back into my bedroom, everything took forever. Then I had to do the hardest thing I ever had to do thus far in my life. Harder than filing for divorce eight years earlier, harder than starting over as a single mom, harder than rebuilding my life. I had to call my mother! My mother had been watching my child after school and I was due to pick her up soon.

These were my words to her; "Mom, I don't know what is wrong with me, but I can't feel my legs or use them. Make arrangements for someone to watch over Danielle and meet me at the hospital, I am losing consciousness and might be having a stroke. Please don't cry mom. I will be okay, but I have to go now and call 9-1-1,.. I love you."

I hung up and dialed 9-1-1. I told the dispatch I was alone on the top floor of my townhouse, and suspected I was having a stroke and losing consciousness. They informed me that I had to get downstairs, and open the door or they would have to break it down. Now, if you know anything about me, you know there is no way I am having my door broken in. I assured her that by all means necessary I was going to find a way to get downstairs and open that door. I hung up, and did the only thing I knew how to do, I prayed. I had not been to church in a long time, but my faith had never faltered. I knew I had a relationship with God and asked him to help me. I prayed just as I had numerous times before, I prayed as I did when I was a child, I closed my eyes and turned my fears over. Somehow, at the end of my prayer I found myself in front of my door, just as the police and paramedics arrived, upon seeing them I passed out.

The hospital: My father had been the one first to enter my door when the cavalry arrived. He rode in the ambulance with me, I had no idea, I was still knocked out. Evidently, in the E.R. the doctors surmised from my condition I was dying. My heart stopped once due to my high fever and came back. Then they attempted to do a spinal tap, I was in and out of delirium. My father, himself a doctor, was the one who would up end up doing my spinal tap. Many doctors were treating me at this time, and then they decided to send me in for a CAT-SCAN, but the machine was down. The alternative turned out to be my saving grace, an MRI. This MRI allowed one neurologist to see what it was, and what was happening to me. It wasn't Lyme Disease, it wasn't encephalitis, it wasn't a brain tumor, and I wasn't going to die, at least not then and there.

The diagnosis: By now I was in a room, and conscious, with my parents around me, my daughter, now at their home was with my sister. I knew I would be fine, I could feel their love and it was all that I needed. Then a doctor walked in the room and asked to speak with me alone. He pulled out the MRI films and showed me my brain. He spoke slowly with concern; "I am afraid that I have some bad news, your films show you have Multiple Sclerosis. Do you understand me?" I nodded, I knew what this was, I suspected it back when I was tripping. I asked for ten minutes, before he sent in my parents. I took those ten minutes to cry, I cried for the cards I had just been dealt, for the life that was abruptly changed. I screamed into my pillow, screamed for the anger I had at the betrayal my body just gave me, a body I had been caring for and depended on. Then I wept, I wept for all the things that in one fell swoop, had just been taken out of my hands, with four words, "You have Multiple Sclerosis". My ten minutes were up, I gathered myself together as the doctor and my parents re-entered my room. I could see the devastation in my parents eyes, the pain that was inflicted on me was upon them as well now. I assured them I was fine, this will be fine, together we will be okay and not all is lost. I asked the doctor what do I do now. His answer was not reassuring, it was bleak. He proceeded to tell me all that I would most likely no longer be able to do, that there were medications to suppress my immune system and hopefully this was relapsing remitting MS. He left me with pamphlets and excused himself.

I was about to enter a new normal. I could accept that, but I would not accept was defeat. I was a mother with a child to raise, and no partner to pick up the slack. Whatever my new normal was, it was not going to be me giving up. I was going to go back home, to my townhouse with four levels, and I was going to continue life as I had always done. My mind was made up, and I never cried over my situation again. My lexicon was to include new words now; cortical steroids, exacerbation, immune suppressants, but they were meant for me to learn, not to let them limit me. 

The 10 things I learned about myself: It is amazing, in a time when all seemed dark, I found hope and possibilities. More than that, over the course of the past ten years I have learned much more and will share them with you.

1. I am strong. In part because I had the greatest support from a loving family. When I needed strength, I took it from them.
2. I can overcome challenges. I knew this before, I rebuilt my life when I was getting divorced and had to start over.
3. I had faith. Although I had not been to church in a long time, my faith in God did not waiver. It was my faith that held me when I needed it most.
4. I could be an example for good. I found myself having the opportunity to teach that anything is possible, and an obstacle is only meant to show you a new way around, not to stop you.
5. I was not resentful. Some people asked me if I ever blamed God, didn't I think it was unfair. If I asked myself; "Why me?". My reply is always the same; "Why NOT me? This could have been terminal cancer, or my sister could have been in my shoes, but I knew that I had the fortitude to deal with the situation, that maybe someone else couldn't.
6. I learned forgiveness. I found to heal my body, I knew I would need to heal my soul first, and forgive people for their wrongs as I hoped they would come to forgive my own transgressions. Without it, I feared I might be stuck, and I had no time to be stuck.
7. I learned to trust my instincts. I had suspected that something was wrong with me, and my doctors had assured me it was in my mind, or stress related. No, it was MS and had I trusted myself, perhaps I would have known sooner and not been side swiped on June 9, 2002.
8. I still had a life. I was not over, I was thirty-five, and was able to date and receive love if it came my way. Fortunately, it did in the form of the man who is now my husband and father of my youngest child.
9. I had a fully functioning mind. I may not be able to run, walk or do other activities that I took for granted, but I still had a mind and time on my hands to explore new avenues. I rediscovered my passion, for writing and here I am today, working on a novel and sharing my thoughts and wisdom in a blog.
10. I am grateful. Odd to some to hear me say this, but I had lived a full life. I traveled the world, participated in some pretty awesome things. I am a mom, recently for a second time and my best friend is my partner and I am able to lean on him, and he on me. Life is good because I am still here, and I have every intention to be here for a long time.

Surprise, no quotes other than to repeat the earlier ones that began this long entry. "That which does not kill you, makes you stronger" and  "God does not give anything that you cannot handle". I have come to find these are more than words of comfort, they are words of truth. No matter what you come across, no matter how devastating, you can surmount them. You have a strength and a will that maybe you have yet tapped into. So next time, when you think you can't do it, think again. Try and if you can't go through it, go around it. Obstacles are meant to be life learning lessons, not life stopping.