What is about sex that makes you want what you shouldn't, makes you feel what shouldn't, makes you act and react in manners that you damn sure know are irrational and overly emotional? What is it about sex that sends you emotional highs one minute and plunges you into the deepest lows the next moment. It's like a blessing and a curse. It is all so unpredictable... and yet it parallels life perfectly. Makes you wonder whether it'll always be like a rollercoaster ride with the extreme highs and lows, or will it be different when you find the person that you are supposed to spend the rest of your life with. What is it about sex that makes you doubt everything that you were so sure about when it came to relationships... makes you doubt yourself and the things that you value? What is it about sex? ...

Moving on!

I have had somewhat of a revelation... or rather, I got a jolt into back into reality. I attended church yesterday (after a not going for three weeks straight or not ending up in the kitchen helping prepare an after service reception). And I must say, that our new pastor is GREAT! She is spirited to the point of being flamboyant, but she has breathed a breath of fresh, healing air into our church family. I think many of my church members have been shackled to the archaic conventions of the seemingly male dominated AME Church. In the past decade our particular church has been rocked by scandal. Two previous pastors have been accused of stealing money from either the church or state run daycares in Tennessee. One was actually indicted by the federal government along with his wife. The second only received a slap on the wrist from the elder's within the church. That frustrated me because the black community today doesn't really deal with the issues that arise, most of the time we attempt to sweep it under an invisible rug, hoping that the dust will somehow disintegrate under the closed confines of the rug. What we don't understand is that nothing goes away if you don't deal with, it simply attracts more dust, and maybe even creating a layer of mold in the recesses of the rug.

Needless to say I have been a bit leery (I know spelling) of having a new pastor come in. But she seems to have unlocked something within our church family that was either repressed or oppressed... I don't know which, but it is kind of refreshing to see people coming outside from the darkness that had entrapped them for so long. I have been somewhere outside, playing around while people in my church became like the walking dead. I refused to let anyone person tell me how to be a "good" Christian. So I rejected a lot of conventions of the church! Yes, I knew I needed a little religious guidance, but there was no way I was going to my church for it. Now I am more comfortable with myself to know that my relationship with God does not depend on the words emitting from the pastor's mouth. It depends on me and so I have been living and doing accordingly. Yes, it is hard, and it helps to have people that you can trust to guide you. I have gotten to know an associate pastor (who I must say is wonderful and encouraging) and I am excited about getting to know the new pastor and where she will eventually lead our church... whether it will be into the light or further into the recesses of the cave that the church seems stagnated in.

Anyway, I went to church yesterday and the pastor preached about being made well/whole. And you know, it really touched me on many levels. Partly because I have been making excuses about many things in my life. According the the scripture (St. John 5:1-11) excuses merely keep you wallowing in the filth that you have created of your life. Her interpretation of the scripture was that the man who was infirm made excuses, but in the end he was made to stand up, roll up his bed, and walk. Her interpretation of being made whole was that you must do the same thing: get up (stop wallowing and feeling sorry for yourself), pick up your bed (to know what you have come from and to show where you are going/have gone), and walk (tell others about what you have gone through/are going through). All of this makes sense, especially when you are a dialysis patient. You really want to just not get up and question why any of this is happening to you. But you have to always remember that though things happen that you do not control, you must find a way to deal with them no matter what. I am still learning to deal with a lot of things and a lot of people, and I am amazed at how much I have grown and am growing since I began dialysis a year ago. I look forward to see where I will end up over the next few months. I have been motivated to do whatever it takes to get where I want to be in life. Now... I just have to figure out where exactly I want to be over the next year!

Why is it that you always want what you can't have but barely register the things you need and they are usually in front of you with huge signs that have arrows pointing in their direction?!

Major Reality Check!

I just had a major reality check! A young man called my sister and informed her that he has a history of bi-polar disorder and turretts (I know I spelled that incorrectly) syndrome and that he was holding a gun to his head and was prepared to kill himself. She has no idea who he was but she kept him on the phone for about 45 minutes getting bits and pieces of information so that we could call the police. And then she stayed on the phone with him until the police got there. She was shaking through the entire process, but she did a wonderful job in keeping him preoccupied. Apparently he has not taken his medication, and maybe something happened that made him think that there really is nothing in this world worth living for. I must admit that there have been days like that... (though my plan didn't involve calling someone out of the blue). It just made me realize that no matter what I am going through there is always an outlet... even if you don't know the person and they call you out of the blue at 1:30 in the morning. I have come to realize that there is always something that will pull you back into the realm of the living, that there is always something to live for. In the meantime, I have to go make sure my sister doesn't have a breakdown!

Get over it already

I look at my mom and think of how much a coward I am. She has gone through two open heart surgeries, back surgery, chemotherapy treatments, not to mention being a mother, wife, and having a full time job and I have never heard her complain about anything. I lie in bed at night and pray wholeheartedly that I can be like her. I know there have been times when she didn't want to get out of bed, but she did it without a word. She surrounds herself with people and does any and everything to help others. She doesn't ask for help or anything in return.

I, on the other hand, seem to get stuck in depressive ruts (no, you can't just get over it, it is depression after all!). I push people away because I fear that getting too close will only bring pain, frustration, and grief, but pushing people away breeds the same emotional backdraft. I let fear rule many aspects of my life. It consumes me. I think the only trait of hers that I have is helping people without the expectation of anything in return... but that comes and goes. One month I may be very helpful, the next I just want to get away from people. And to think... I thought I had garnered some control over my depression, but I guess not. My therapist mentioned the possibility of prescribing anti-depressants, but I quickly dismissed that. That's for crazy people, for people who have no control over themselves and their emotions. I am beginning to realize that was an irrational and stupid decision. Maybe that would be a safe alternative. Maybe it would give me some emotional continuity... Maybe I'll be better able to deal with all of the things that are going on in my life at the moment, give the the strength and the will to quit messing around and achieve my goals, make me a better, more trusting, caring individual. I know, I know... they're only pills, but hell if they can offer some sort of balance right now, I'm all for it.

:) All of this lets me see firsthand how flawed and fragile I really am. My mom tells me everyday that she sees me becoming stronger and stronger, but a lot of the times I don't see it as strength. I am just trying to survive and keep what little sanity God has bestowed upon me. Yes, I can get so low that I don't want to see the light of day, but I also know that when I get to that point I need some serious help. I am glad that I am not one to give up and let things go on in a certain manner (I think I get that from her too), that I know there are resources that I can turn to when I need help... and right now I need it more than anything!

... maybe anti-depressants won't be so bad...

Nightmares

Sometimes life is scary. Right now it feels like one of those nightmares where you are desperately trying to wake up. Every muscle in your body is jerking and straining, your mouth is open wide, and you can feel the air being sucked deep into your lungs. Your chest expands, and you begin to let the air out, but there is no sound coming out as the air leaves the recesses of your chest. You feel your chest cavity empty, but your muscles don't relax. You repeat the entire process again, again nothing. After the third attempt panic sets in and you feel like the breath has literally been knocked out of you. HEELLLPPP!!! No one can hear you because there is nothing but silence vibrating against your vocal chords. So you begin flailing every movable part of your body to escape the nightmare, to will yourself to wake up. As your body convulses, your mind reacts to your body's attempt to escape its recesses. You wake up suddenly. Your breaths come deep and heavy, your body remains tense, and your pulse rate is still elevated, but you are awake... or so you think. Soon you begin to realize that things are not as they seem. There are objects from your childhood scattered around your room, there is a person you haven't seen or spoken to in months sitting next to your bed stroking your hand, telling you that everything will be fine. You look at the person and your heart dives into your stomach. And you begin screaming and flailing all over again. Again, there is no sound and your body can only make small jerking movements. Its as if you are being restrained physically but there are no bonds on you. The person looks at you and smiles and upon seeing the horror in your eyes begins to laugh hysterically. All the while you are attempting to scream, his laughter cuts through the air. It is the only sound you hear. Then your heart stops and it feels like you've stopped breathing. Your body literally begins convulsing as you attempt to force yourself to take the smallest amount of air into our lungs. Your body lurches once and your eyes fly open. Your heart is beating wildly from the lack of oxygen. You stare into the dimly lit darkness trying to steady your hearbeat and regulate your breathing to take in the maximum amount of air. Your feel lightheaded in the darkness, but you are afraid to let sleep take you for fear of another nightmare, so you lie for a moment longer. Then you leave the confines of your bed and venture into the living room and turn on the tv. You watch mindless infomercials and cartoons until your body begs you for sleep. But you continue fighting to stay awake until 3:30 because you know that you have to get ready to go. So you go through the motions: you shower, you brush your teeth, you put on a warm, comfortable sweat suit (even though you know it'll be 80 degrees when you walk outside), you retrieve a frozen water bottle from the freezer, and you wait for your ride to call so that you can leave. You get to the dialysis center, and continue to elude sleep for another hour or so. Then you begin the dialysis process, and 20 minutes after being stuck, Sleep plans a successful attack behind enemy lines and overtakes you. You enter into a restless sleep, infiltrated by probing thermometers, loud voices, nurses and doctors talking to you and beeping machines. But you are thankful for the restlessness of the sleep... it keeps the nightmares at a safe, unreachable distance.

Life is making me tired... tired of screaming at the top of my lungs and no sound coming out... tired of sleepless nights, and restless days... tired of the delusions that come from those sleepless nights... tired of delusions period. Tired of trying to catch my breath just so the nightmares can overtake my dreams once more... Tired of everything... Sometimes tired of life...

Yeah... I think it's time to visit the therapist again...

Watching and Waiting

I think the hardest part of dialysis is watching people die. In the past year I have watched people's health decline until the point that most of them just give up. There have been a few who have died from heart attacks during treatments, and the scary thing is that having a heart attack is an everyday risk for a lot of people on dialysis. Those are the scariest because you get used to seeing people three days a week and then all of a sudden they are no longer there, someone else has taken their chair and no one says anything. It's as if it is a stigma to talk about the former occupant of the chair, like the center is attempting to cover up the fact that another patient has died... there is no evidence that he or she ever existed. There are hushed whispers when a unsuspecting patient asks about the deceased, and when the words "he or she passed" there is a deafening silence as if we are taking a collective moment to pay respects to the dead but, at the same time, hoping that Death himself hasn't heard our silent prayers. The only evidence of some of those who have passed is the stark, white sheet of paper hanging on the patient bulletin board announcing that a gift has been given to the center or the local kidney foundation, a donation, of sorts, from the deceased family. Only a white sheet of paper with a few lines on it is the only remembrance the center offers to the deceased. A piece of white paper simply telling other patients about a donation made in the deceased's name. There is nothing telling of the person's life, accomplishments, likes, dislikes, family... just a piece of white paper. Everything about that person has been reduced to two sentences on a white piece of paper against the cluttered backdrop of a bulletin board. That paper says everything and nothing. It is a constant reminder that dialysis is a business like any other, and that even though people could have been patients at a center for ten, fifteen, or twenty years, in the end they will simply be remembered by an unassuming piece of paper. For all the things that have happened in their lives, for all the things that they have gone through and for all of the things that dialysis has taken away from them, I seriously doubt that this is the manner in which they would have wanted to be remembered. Life cannot be reduced into a few short lines on a piece of paper. I was once told that you must not look at the dot that is on a page, but look at the infinite possibilities that are harbored in the recesses of the white paper. Maybe that is what I must do as I read each of the names held on that piece of paper. I should look at what that person's life for what it may have been. Many of them I did not have an opportunity to get to know outside of dialysis, but I am sure that their lives were more than the defeated people that walk in the door of the dialysis center. I never thought that I would encounter all this when I first began dialysis in 2005. Five people have died since I began dialysis, most of the elderly, but I have had to watch them essentially give up living, become tired of going through the motions of what life on dialysis has become. And each time I have to sit back and watch, wanting to scream for them to keep fighting, knowing that I am too afraid to open my mouth. I just sit back, watching and waiting with the others until death swoops down and claims the life of the person he has been hovering over. I watch the black clouds descend and then, as quickly as they come, disappear and give way to the less bleak, gray clouds that seem to converge on our lives... Maybe one day the clouds will part and a blinding sunshine will come through to warm our souls... until then, we are stuck behind the blue-gray clouds and the ever-hovering presence of death.

My sister says hi and lean wit it, rock wit it!

More thoughts...

I've been thinking of writing a book about the everyday struggles of renal failure, dialysis, and transplantion... I wonder if I can get a few other patients at centers in Memphis to tell me what they've gone through. I wonder if it'll be something that people are interested in...

My mom told me to stop being mean. So I quit!

Everyone seems to be in love with strippers these days... maybe I should become one! Hey, I'm like LL... I need love!

The GRE is getting to me... is anyone smart enough to take it for me?? I know... I'm being lazy but this whole situation makes me realize how much I hate math! I'm going to school to get a PhD in linguistics... what the hell does math have to do with that?!

People at my dialysis center have been trying to get me to date another patient's son. He's 19... I'm 26... can someone please explain that to me cause I don't see it happening... EVER!

Whoever said life is like a box of chocolates should be chained up and whipped! I don't even like chocolate and I can tell you that my life is damn sure NOT like a box of chocolates! With chocolates, everything is sweet and the flavors complement one another, even the dark and the bittersweet chocolates... like the dark chocolate with the raspberry filling, or the bittersweet with the buttercream. At the moment, my I think my chocolate box is empty... I wonder who stole the chocolates cause believe me I didn't eat them. I don't even like chocolate. Maybe my life can be like a bowl of cherries... or a parfait. As donkey said on Shrek, "Everybody likes parfait!"

Yes, Shakira, hips do lie, especially when you're a dialysis patient!

Why are young men with money arrogant and conceited? One guy asked me why I thought I was worthy to visit his "palace" (his word exactly)... What in the hell?! You asked for my number! Why did I do that again? So, I pretended to lose his...

My parents want me to try holisitic medicines to see if it will help with my kidney failure and hep C... I wonder if they decide to have a priest lay hands on me will that count? It'll be like Jim Baker back in the day (do you remember him?)... I wonder if they can rebuke my illnesses in the name of God... can he do that from jail? (note: I am kidding!)

My allergist's impression of my dermatologist was spot on! He looked at my arm for three seconds, told me that I have breakouts for no reason and wrote me a prescription... It was funny when he did the impression... then I thought about how pissed I was after seeing the dermatologist and stopped laughing. It wasn't funny when it happened!

I finally realized that I want to have kids and get married (somewhere some overly feminist group's hearts are collectively breaking... I can hear the weeping). My friends all told me they knew I was lying when I told them that... the funny thing is that I wasn't!

Only God knows what type of man can handle me... cause I sure don't!

I wonder if I'll make a decent college professor? I want to be like my professors, hard as hell and at times unforgiving but they made you feel as if you just climbed to the summit of Mount Everest once you've completed the classes.

I wonder how being a college professor will affect my kids, if I am so lucky to have any?

If I can't have children, then I'll adopt... I think it would be cool to have a multicultural family. Actually I had decided to do that when I was younger (before I became a feminist). I remember telling my parents... my dad looked at me like I was crazy... Hey, maybe I am!

Since I can't drink, I wonder if I can smoke... and I am not talking about cigarettes. Some days I feel like the only thing that'll calm me down is a little ganja... I wonder if that rastafarian guy will hook me up...

Ah... Spain... I will have a summer home there if it kills me! At the rate I'm going it just might!

I wonder if my family members will come visit... My granny already told me she'll be damned if she eats any more paella. Damn fish eyes! Oh... I have to tell that story: My granny came to visit me while I was studying in Spain. We were so excited. I had all of this stuff planned for us to do. I knew all of the restaurants that we would go to so she could eat real Spanish food. You know, paella, tapas, jamon serrano con queso manchego, cod in almost every form imaginable (hey I was in Sevilla and its on a major river)! Her first night was uneventful because she was tired. So on the second or third night I took her to this great place for paella with two of my friends. We were so excited because we knew she would enjoy it. I, of course, forgot that we are from the South... and though raised farms, there are some things that black people will not eat! So we ordered the paella (seafood of course because of location) and some great wine. My grandmother ate around the clams and mussels and decided that she would try to shrimp. She took a bite and stoppped. And she looked straight at me and put her fork down. She picked up her napkin and wiped her mouth and just sat there and looked at me for a moment. Then she said: "I think I just ate a fish eye," in the calmest, softest, matter of fact voice I have ever heard. I choked and I looked at me friends. One of them gave her something to drink. And I cried laughing. She was pissed! She still won't let me live that down. That was the first story she told everyone when she got back to the states. It was hilarious! Sometimes she'll look at me and say "damn paella!" We die laughing! I love my granny... damn paella!

Man, I would have loved to be a Bond girl for Sean Connery. He's my favorite Bond... I'll keep the rest of my thoughts about that to myself! Anyway, it's late and I have the dialysis dinosaur in the morning! Arrrgghhh.......... (that was more of a pirate call, huh... oh well!)

It's been confirmed...

I slept on it and I have determined that I have been naive and stupid. I guess that I expected a lot more to happen, and in the beginning it seemed like it was going that way. Then I began to shut down completely... then again I sort of knew this would happen from the beginning. I don't like people and when I do, it normally takes a while for me to believe in and trust the person in question. Maybe that is where I went wrong. I took a page out of my friend's book, which is to trust until someone gives you a reason not to. I think that was a mistake. I am too skeptical and jaded to trust people from the beginning. So, it makes sense that the few times I have tried, I have failed miserably. He even told me how closed off I was in the beginning... now that I look back on it, I should have just been the overly skeptical person that I am. True, he probably would not have moved into a zone past that of friend, but that would have been much better. Instead I got stupid and let him in. Now look at me! I don't know which way is up and which is down... I couldn't go in the right direction if I wanted to. And, as we all know, that only leads to a lot if frustration, and in my case a little bitterness. But hey, at least I know now that the whole being open, friendly, and trusting really isn't me... so, I'll just go back to being me. That person with the automatic defense mechanism, who is too self-absorbed to care what the world around her is doing. I much more prefer being guarded and jaded to being hurt. Anyway, I have spent more than enough energy talking about this situation and the stupidity of it. This is the last time I will speak of it (yeah, yeah that'll be hard... like saying she sells sea shells by the sea shore three times fast... I can never quite get that last one out!) Anyway... I feel I have put enough energy into all of this, so I will discontinue giving energy to it... maybe it will die quietly and gracefully.

In other news, I went to see my childhood allergist about my arm (it has been breaking out really bad for the past seven months). I went to a dermatologist who told me that it was for no apparent reason. The allergist looked at me and laughed. He told me everything happens for a reason and confirmed my suspicion that the dermatologist I was referred to is nothing more than a quack. He made me feel very comfortable... until he told me that he thinks I am allergic the the mesh graft that is in my arm. In order to find out, I have to get a piece of the actual tubing that has been inserted in my arm and then he is going to do a patch test on my back... and I am not looking forward to that. If it is the graft that I am allergic to, I can only imagine the misery that I am going to face during the three day patch test. If it isn't the graft, then we go back to square one. But I would rather start over with him than that crazy assed dermatologist that I went to. It's weird, this is probably one of the few issues (health related) that I have some hope in actually alleviating... and right now, that light at the end of the tunnel feeling is really a God send. I feel like I've been locked in the hole, like Andy DuFresne from the Shawshank Redemption and I am innocent too... well not the archetypal scapegoat/christlike innocence that Tim Robbins character plays, but I am medically innocent... if that makes any sense! Anyway... I have to get some GRE studying done! This schedule thing is actually working! So until next time... someone please pray for me!

Just a few things i've been thinking about...

It's 12 in the morning and I am listening to Compay Segundo (a legend in Cuba and a member of the Buena Vista Social Club) sing about "La Negra Tomasa." The song is about how this woman drives this man crazy and how he can't stand to be away from her. I wonder if I will ever have that affect on someone or if someone will have that affect on me... At the rate I'm going, I doubt it...

I see myself retreating back into the comfort and confines of my own being. Maybe I am a coward, but that is where I feel the safest. People can't come in unless I allow them to, I am over-protective of my own feelings and well-being, I am hardened to the outside world and everyone in it. This is where I go to take care of me. I know that there I will do whatever it is that needs to be done, there are no distractions, there is no pain, no what ifs, there is nothing but me and my ambitions to drive me. I can rely on my own actions and words because I know that I will be true to myself, even if no one else is. I don't have to think about all the things that people told me in the heat of some moment, words that will be quickly forgotten once the moment has passed. I don't have to disect what has been said or interpret words. I don't have to wonder about the meaning behind anyone's words. I can simply rely on my actions to add strength to my words. I can feel myself pushing people away. Yes, it is my escape mechanism (and believe me at the moment there is a lot to want to escape), at the same time, I know that this is what I must do in order to keep my sanity and do what I need to do right now. (what in the hell am I listening to? it's a song about chanukka by the hip-hop hoodios, which is a hip-hop jewish band with some latin influence... interesting!)

I think I have essentially become a baby-sitter for him, which is cool because I adore his son. I think the more time I spend with his son, the more attached I become to him. They are going to Boston tomorrow. His dad told me yesterday. I told him to have a safe flight! My mom told me I should have asked what time they were leaving, how long they are staying, and when they are coming back... I figured that if he wanted me to know he would have told me. And this whole thing brings back some things that were said that I don't feel like divulging at the moment. I wonder how they are getting to the airport... hmmm. Not my problem... anyway... My mom told me I was being difficult. I don't see it as being difficult at all. I think it's just that my relationship with him has shifted considerably. Yes, I still have a few issues with that, but I'm dealing with it. And if that means that I have to be a callous bitch about some things, then so be it. I doubt he even acknowledges anything has changed... that's another issue in itself... Maybe I am dealing the wrong sex... KIDDING! Maybe I am too wrapped up in other things to have any relationship with any male whether intimate or platonic. Most men are alike anyway, no matter what race, and believe me I have dated black, white, hispanic (though I have not dated anyone of asian descent...). I run into the same issues no matter what age range, education level, economic status. (Yes, I know some of it is my fault because, as you read above, my default mechanism is to shut down completely.) (I just wanna say that World Music on Link TV is so freakin cool!)

I wonder if I'll talk to him after he comes back... at the rate we're going I don't really see that happening... who knows... Anyway... I am writing all of this and I am half-sleep... Maybe I'll retry explaining myself a little better after I have slept for a while.

I loathe dialysis...

Today made me realize just how much I loathe dialysis. It was a pretty bad day... I think it's the worst day I have had at dialysis that does not pertain to getting ill. I got to the center on time, at about 4:45 in the morning as I do on most days. I am usually one of the first people there. Today was no different. I did all of the preparations, having blood pressures taken, temperature taken, and gave the nurse and the tech all of the information they needed to input into the machine. The tech stuck me and put me on the machine. Ten minutes later the machine completely shut down! I was pissed! Not only had the machine not been working properly for a few days, it had not been taken out of rotation and the techs who worked on the machine were not on call, and there were no more back-up machines to put into rotation. I had to wait for an hour and a half for someone from a sister center to come in and repair the machine! And then I had to wait thirty more minutes for the machine tech to repair the machine! It was two hours before I could get on a machine, and then the tech asked me if I wanted to run for two or two and a half hours... HELL NO! I want to run the entire three hours that my doctor prescribed! I could understand if I had been late, and then they could have cut my time, but I had been there since 4:45! I am not one to cut my time and get off the machine early and I was not going to start today! This is my life we're talking about and even though I despise dialysis, I know that is an evil that I must endure because it is, essentially, saving my life. Ah... i guess it's the lesser of two evils... To make things worse, I had a second doctor's appointment that I had to reschedule because the transportation company I ride with never dispatched a driver the first time I called. That pissed me off because they made it out to be my fault, as if I had not called! It's the first thing I do when I complete my treatment! Needless to say, I had to come home and take a nap cause I was ready to burn something down like Angela Bassett on "Waiting to Exhale!" I am pretty calm now, though you probably can't tell from the post! But everything's better now... I just have to learn to deal with certain situations better! Ah...

the melting pot

I just read an article which considerably disturbed me. There is a restaurant in Philadelphia which has posted signs which require patrons to order in English. The place is in a culturally diverse neighborhood, and, apparently, the owners family is Sicilian, which means that at some point they, themselves, were in the same position as many immigrants in America today. They did not, or maybe still do not, have a firm grasp of the English language. Most of the people that I have grown up with do not have a firm grasp of the language, and it is the only language they speak! I am also partial to the plight of immigrants because I have friends who are hispanic, asian, and african. Their families came here to escape extreme poverty, oppression, and to be with their families, motives I am sure the family of the owner of the above mentioned restaurant asserted when they made the decided to move to the United States. People make conscious decisions to uproot themselves, physically and culturally and, from my experiences, most of them know what this move entails. Yes, they know and understand that not only is there a cultural barrier, there is a language barrier. But the thing about the US is that the country is founded on principles of freedom and acceptance, no matter the cultural, religious, racial differences (and any other differences that I may have missed). If we all assimilated, we would, essentially, become a melting pot of people stuck to the bottom of some cast iron pot, no one being able to tell where he ends or begins. It seems that is what Congress wants in this instance. I wonder if the owner of that particular restaurant realizes how his own Sicilian cultural roots have influenced him. I wonder if he would accept becoming some faceless, unimportant person trapped within the confines of the US that he envisions. He seems simple minded to me. Yes, English is the national language, and it must be learned in order to co-exist successfully here but forcing people to learn it when ordering food is utterly ridiculous. I could understand if it were a place of employment... but a restaurant?! I am awed at the things people do in the name of the sanctity of the US. The people in his community are what keeps his restaurant afloat. They are the force behind his profit, to force them to assimilate is a slap in the face. For me, it is like he is saying that they are of little importance to him. He does not give a damn about them culturally or enthnically. He wants them to be a part of this melting pot, the mosaic has become too colorful, too cluttered. He does not want to take the time to look at each individual, to accept and respect them as they are culturally, ethnically. I guess the melting pot is what a lot of people want these days. Of course, I am also steamed about the whole immigration issue because it hits close to home. My biological grandfather (paternal) is Puerto Rican. I am also bilingual (which seems amazing to many people that I meet, but that is a topic for another day). I speak Spanish fluently and am in the process of taking Portuguese (I have to master a third language for my PhD candidacy, so I figured I would start early). When I went to Spain, most Spaniards I encountered thought Americans to be self-absorbed and superficial... given the recent issues on immigration... I am hard-pressed not to agree with them...

?!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I GIVE UP ON EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE!! F*** IT ALL!

I've been a little self-absorbed lately... i do apologize

I have been so self absorbed with my own problems (and creating them) that I have thought little about my friends. They have been with me through thick and thin, and I am grateful for each of them.

One of my best friend just got back together with her ex, and while I think it is wonderfuk, I know that they have a lot of things from the past that they must deal with and overcome before they can take their relationship to the next level. So many things in her life seem to come straight out of fairy tales... so much so that at times I think she really believes that she is living in one. But it must be great living in such a world. We are so different, but so much alike. She deserves every good thing that happens to her. She is a wonderful person. She is kind, trusting, and outgoing where I am skeptic, shrewd, and introverted. She makes people feel comfortable in her presence, whereas I want to know what motives people have for doing any and every thing. But I have learned to be patient with people because of her. I have learned that people do not have motives for certain things... that sometimes people are just moved to do things. I thank God she is one of my best and dearest friends. I know that she will continue to be with me for life, no matter what we face. We have been through the fire together in the form of illness, cheating boyfriends, back stabbing friends, failed attempts at career choices, new beginnings, and distance. She is my sister, not borne of my mother, of course... but she is my sister.

My other best friend is the same way, though we have been on different continents for the past few years. She has remained close, even through the distance. It is wonderful just hearing her voice. When I talk to her I know that everything will be fine, that I have no real reason to worry about anything in life. She cements my faith in God when others tore it down. She lets me know that nothing comes from despair. When I was initially diagnosed with kidney failure, she was the first to know outside of my family. She and the above mentioned friend were the only two of my friends who knew that I was sick, that I was dealing with a terminal illness. I doubt that I would be the calm, strong person I am today with the two of them, my mother and grandmother. Each of these women gave me a part of themselves that allowed me to stand on my own and let the world know who I am and what I am dealing with. I give back to all of them in any way I can, and sometimes in the smallest way but I know it is what they want. I try not to sink into depression (and believe me it is a struggle not to), I try to stay positive at all costs, I try not to complain, I try to do things to get my mind off of dialysis, kidney failure and hep c. And they are with me every step of the way. I remind myself to thank God for them each day.

In other news, I went to the hepatologist the other day. My doctor always tells me not to drink because it could cause considerable liver damage, giving way for the hep c to attack my liver once the damage has begun. And he writes it on all of my discharge papers, knowing that I do not drink but just as a simple reminder. Well most of the nurses know that I do not drink, and have not done so for a few years. Well... all, aparently, except one, and she would be the one who was assigend to discharge me! She was giving my papers and reading what my doctor had written. She came to the do not drink alcohol instructions and her voice became really quite. She looked at me and said "the doctor wants you to stop drinking alcohol!" I could feel confusion flood my face as I looked at her. She continued talking. "You're so young and I would hate to see what would happen to you if you keep drinking. It could be terrible. There are AA programs that you can..." AA?! My face fell and she just stopped and looked for a moment. I looked at her, eyes wide and said "I don't drink! He just puts that on there as a reminder!" I laughed as she took a long breath. There was relief in the breath that she took. I smiled and touched her arm and informed her that I knew the repercussions if I drank at this point in my life. She silently thanked God. I laughed again. I said "thank you! I started getting a little scared when you started talking about AA! Then I thought that I should tell you that I'm not an alcoholic, nor do I drink!" She looked at me, the look of relief had flooded her face and she relaxed considerably, and laughed. "Now that I've made a complete fool of myself..." I smiled and told her that it was nice that she showed such concerns for her patients. I turned and left, and I heard her relating what had just happened to another nurse. I couldn't help but wonder why she would think I was an alcoholic. Did she think I had done anything destructive to my body to cause the kidney failure and the hep c! I have not. I have had hep c for most of my life (I contracted it from a blood transfusion when I was a baby. It was the 80's and hep c wasn't really on the radar when checking bllod used for transfusion purposes.) I would never have done anything intentionally to cause myself any of this pain. But it shook me to think that people could assume that my medical maladies were my own fault. All of this simply lets me know that education is the best weapon against all of this. Maybe this blog will help the next person... who knows...

ah... life... what can i say?...

Ok, so I have calmed down a lot since last night. And I have thought about this entire situation a lot, so much so that I told my mom about it (trust me, when I talk to my mom about anything pertaining to my personal life, it is a very big deal). She always makes me feel better about myself, even when she’s telling me that I am making a stupid decision. She, essentially, told me that we both are being stubborn and that there is something boiling under the surface between the two of us. She said that we should both let go and “let it be” as she puts it. I can’t say that I agree with that line of thinking because I like to be in control of the situations, or potential situations, that I find myself in… I do not feel that I am ready to willingly relinquish control over this part of my life… It is, after all one of the few things that I have to hold on to. Control of my health has long since fallen from my grasp, so the thing that I can actually control is bundled within the smallest confines of my being. My mom said that we are both being stubborn, and I can see that, to a certain extent. At the same time, I doubt that either of us really knows what we want, let alone what the other person wants. Things are so confusing at this point in time. The stubborn part of me says walk away and leave it alone, to just run away like I always do. But most of me says to stay and fight, to at least find out what all of this means to my life… and his. The coward in me keeps whispering run and don’t look back, but the curious part of me says stay, relinquish control and go where God intends me to go. It is telling me to stop fighting and go with the flow.

As for the “friendship” that I have with him, I have come to realize that he is one of the best friends that any woman could have. In the short time that we have known one another, we have been through so many ups and downs. He is one of the first who saw me as a person, even after I informed him of my illness. He checks up on me when I am not feeling well, and I am sure that if he had a means of getting into my apartment, he would make me dinner when I feel too weak to move, let alone make dinner. I am grateful for the love and respect he shows me, but at the same time I am extremely frustrated by him. Some days I do want to banish him into the farthest reaches of my life, reveling in the knowledge that he is still in my life, but not an integral part of it. Other days, I simply love the fact that he is one of the closest people to me. The fact that I am willing to strengthen my friendship with him says a lot. At the first hint of confusion or pain, I run, taking little with me. The only thing I think of is escape. But in this case, escape is not a logical option. And I, for the life of me, cannot figure out why. Though I have written that I will let go, leave it all behind me, I knew when I wrote the words that it would not happen. I knew that I would keep moving in the same manner, going up and down at will, rolling incessantly to some unseen, unknown destination with parts of him in tow. Maybe this is what my mom meant by relinquishing control, that all things in life do not have a predetermined course that you can set for yourself. Maybe she just wants me to understand that life is hard (as if I didn’t know that already) and that relationships of any kind are harder. Maybe she meant that I really should stop running and stand still. My mom and all of her wisdom… she also knows that there is a seventy-five percent chance that I will not listen to a word she has spoken to me on the subject. I am stubborn. I am a jack-ass. I am me after all... and I will heed her advice. I will relinquish control, grudgingly… or should I say I will try to relinquish control. Maybe it will give me more time to focus on the things that I need to be focused on like completing the testing for my transplant and studying for the GRE. At least now I know where I stand on the majority of my health issues. My kidneys still don’t work, but my liver is ok. My hep C viral load is high, which means that I may not be able to clear the virus through the available treatment options. At the same time, I don’t even qualify for the treatment because of the kidney failure, which is ok. It would have only made me sicker. And if I were to undergo treatments after my transplant, I am faced with the possibility of losing bone marrow because of a considerably weakened immune system. Either way, I would, more than likely, end up worse off than I am now. I am strangely at peace with everything that is going on. I know it’s because I have one hell of a strong support system (and yes, he is included in that support system) behind me and a good foundation in Christ. So, for now, I have lightened some of the burden that I carry. I do wonder how all of this will turn out though…

have i screwed up?...

ok... so he reads my blog... that surprised me! it's easier to write the things that you feel when you are under the pretense that no one you know is actually reading what you write. i think i hurt his feelings... at least that's the vibe that i am getting. i know he won't come out and tell me whether or not anything that i have written has any affect on him whatsoever. but i know it has... the look on his face said more than he will ever actually tell me, and that hurt more than him not telling me what is on his mind. i never meant to hurt him or anyone for that matter.

I wish that I had the courage to actually tell him all of the things that are on my mind, to sit and talk to him face to face. But I do not, partly because of the scars because that have been left by past relationships. I am a coward. Right now, I have no idea how to feel or what to feel for that matter. I feel empty. I should be happy that he knows, at least, a part of what i am feeling. Instead I am more confused. I feel like he has looked at only the negative and confusing things that I have written, that he hasn't taken into account the praises that I have showered upon him, and believe me there have been many. Maybe he is like me to an extent, and recognizes the confusion that has descended upon our relationship... But I wonder if he appreciates that confusion. Sometimes confusion brings you closer to the thing you want, but most of the time it drives you in an opposite direction. I let confusion get the better of me on many occasions, and this one is no different. Confusion has set in, and I believe it will be with me for a while.

Yes, I realize that I said I would step back and reevaluate my relationship with him. But I know me and I know that I say things to justify the stupid decisions that I make. My words, in no way are set in stone, they are just a guide for me. Apparently he does not understand that... i thought he would have at least known that. I guess not... maybe all of the things that he told me in the beginning were mere words... nothing more, nothing less... simple words. Maybe our words have no significant meaning... they are just things that were said to open air to fill the spaces left between during times of silence... at this point i am shrouded in the chaos of confusion and i do not welcome it...

damn...

ok... so it'll be a little harder than i thought to plug that leak...

validation... maybe

it's five in the morning and i have just come in from a night of club hopping and partying (please excuse the grammar, or lack thereof). i am, normally, not one to partake in clubbing... not since my college days, but today was validating for me. after spending the morning down in the dumps over the dying relationship with a friend, my sister told me that raheem devaughn would be at the sisterhood showcase, and that cheered me up considerably. we went and had a pretty good time, but instead of raheem devaughn, urban mystic performed, which was just as good! i even got an autograph (my first) and flirted a little with urban mystic himself. my sister and i were invited to join he and his friend later that evening (hence the club hopping). it was exhilerating! it gave me the boost that i needed to push myself to reach the next goal in my life and to let go. as the night wore on, i met an array of people interested in me. though i may act as if i don't need anyone in my life, i have come to realize that maybe companionship and friendships are a more integral part of my being than i have wanted to acknowledge. i do not want to say it, but these past few hours have validated my worth as a woman... my worth as a friend. i am a woman, and i need men in my life. there is no escaping that. i must, in some way accept that fact and, somehow, learn to deal with it. so, i guess all of this has substantiated the fact that i must make some changes to both myself and my ways and means of interacting with the male species. at the moment, i am also a bit delirious, so i may, in fact, change my mind once the novelty of actually being wanted, accepted, and respected by men. i pray that sleep merely solidifies what i just wrote....

I'm getting off of the ride!

Thank God I have learned to let people go... begrudingly of course. May she have more patience, more nerve and courage to deal with him, his needs (and believe me they are many), and the needs of his child. For I have washed my hands of the whole mess... or maybe I have simply given up.... Or is it that I am merely thinking of myself and rebuilding what is left of the barrier that has recently been destroyed? Maybe it is a mix of both. I dare not open the door that will cause more pain to my being. I dare not let him know it. I dare not let him continue to hold the key so that he may open it at will. So, I simply changed to locks and reinforced to door. The next person will have to try three times as hard to get past the outer walls.... Hopefully no one will ever (and yes, with venom I write "ever") breach the walls again. I prefer being alone and solid to being with someone and not knowing what the next hour, day, or week will hold. And to think... three months was all it took! Maybe the myth about the honeymoon being over after three months is true.... Maybe we revel in the novelty and newness of relationships knowing that boredom and predictability will soon follow. This case was no different. I see now that he will be nothing more than one of those friends whom I rarely speak to (maybe once every three or four months even though he lives up the street) and, to tell the truth, my heart does a sort of half flutter. Joy mixed with pain. Joy because I am no longer confusing myself and my feelings with the expectations of what should be. Pain because I know what it will not be, and all of the broken promises that hover above me. And though I have said we would be nothing more than friends in the beginning, there was a sort of attachment that I had not expected. And that was a broken promise in itself because I promised myself that I would not become more than his friend, that I would not become attached to him. So, now I must pry myself away and set myself on course again. I do not want to... part of me want him to fulfill all of the promises that he made. But I know that none of them will ever come to pass. I was much too jaded from the beginning, and am even moreso now. He... he is much to ethereal. He is of a different plane, something airy and light, never lingering in one spot but spreading himself over the whole of one particular area. I am rooted in who I am am and where I am going. I am conscious to the people and things around me. He is flighty and moody, though he is a man. He is indulgent, where I am stingy and meager. Namely in his affections for others and in love to a certain extent. He gives of it freely whereas I wholeheartedly believe that people must prove themselves to earn my love, trust, and respect. Maybe that is in the process of losing what little I had given to him... Or maybe it is just that I am a harsh individual... In any event, I have realized that I am too different from him to be more than a friend, the person he knows that he can turn to when he needs something, to talk to when things are not going they way he planned. I have learned to listen and not judge, to give my opinion and not scold... partly because I am not listening and do not care, partly because he knows the course he must take before he comes to me with these innane speeches about life and what to do in it. I can only lift and eyebrow and ask the questions he has been waiting on... what do you think you should do?... what can you do?... is there anything else you have thought of?... what can I do to help? This last question normally gets a "you've done enough," knowing deep down that he wants more than he has let on to. Maybe, in all of this I have allowed him to drain me in a way that I have let few people... maybe that's it. That I am tired of having the life sucked out of me over his wants, needs, and wishes. And I am more than an idiot for allowing it to go on... Stop allowing people to drain me... I have to add that one to to to-do list... I have no idea how to stop it, but hey, I put up a wall against eveything else, I am pretty damn sure I can plug this leak... once I find it of course! Plug the leak! PLUG the leak! PLUG THE DAMN LEAK!... done deal!

Life sucks sometimes!