I wish I was home.
I'm grateful to be here.
Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Friday, October 22, 2010
Day 52: HEARD. Vol. 3
The people quoted below have two things in common, they're all adults and they're all people I've come in contact with over the past several months. With the exception of one title, their identities were not recorded and will not be revealed.
There are times in this whirlwind adventure when the dust settles.
It was during those times that I listened.
This is what I heard.
------------------------------------------------------------------
"I love daydrinking."
"It was like someone transported us to London, England on the most boring day of the year."
"Q-R-S. I know my alphabet. You can't confuse me."
"Toaster ovens are like, the best thing ever."
"How do you spell impactful?"
"I-m-p-a-c-t-f-u-l. But it's not really a word."
"Impactful? It's not?"
"Nope."
"How about thrilling?"
Me: "Will you write my check please?"
My Boss: "Sure. Your last name is Shaw, right?"
"Those dresses look like cheap witches at Burning Man, I got my costume at Rite Aid."
"We made out and I was so excited because it was just what I wanted!"
"And I was like, "Hey!" 'cause I'm like, you know, friendly."
"When you say cash only does that mean I can only pay with cash?"
"Pork is a dessert meat."
------------------------------------------------------------------
Kilah: "I may not understand the people in my new reality, but I am grateful for them. And thoroughly amused."
There are times in this whirlwind adventure when the dust settles.
It was during those times that I listened.
This is what I heard.
------------------------------------------------------------------
"I love daydrinking."
"It was like someone transported us to London, England on the most boring day of the year."
"Q-R-S. I know my alphabet. You can't confuse me."
"Toaster ovens are like, the best thing ever."
"How do you spell impactful?"
"I-m-p-a-c-t-f-u-l. But it's not really a word."
"Impactful? It's not?"
"Nope."
"How about thrilling?"
Me: "Will you write my check please?"
My Boss: "Sure. Your last name is Shaw, right?"
"Those dresses look like cheap witches at Burning Man, I got my costume at Rite Aid."
"We made out and I was so excited because it was just what I wanted!"
"And I was like, "Hey!" 'cause I'm like, you know, friendly."
"When you say cash only does that mean I can only pay with cash?"
"Pork is a dessert meat."
------------------------------------------------------------------
Kilah: "I may not understand the people in my new reality, but I am grateful for them. And thoroughly amused."
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Day 50: Daughter of a Man.
Though I am his daughter, I am not a Daddy's Girl.
My sister and I were raised by our Mom. She loved, taught, sang, laughed, chauffered, fed, hugged, worried, rejoiced, disciplined, bought, made... She parented.
And though I am sure my Father caused her endless frustration, she did not allow his daughters to hate him.
"You shouldn't speak to your Dad that way. He loves you."
"Do you love him?"
"Yes. Because he helped me make you."
As adults, my sister and I made the decision to have a relationship with him. We have learned to enjoy the time we have with him inspite of his sporadic presence during our childhood. He is an intelligent quirky man. He was a French professor for over 30 years, he ran a bartending school and owned a cleaning service. He was not one to show much emotion, but was generous with his praise. He is an excellent cook, an avid vegetable gardener, and, in his retirement, he has mastered the game of pool.
Our infrequent childhood conversations and visits with him were filled with the following mantras:
Him: "Who are the prettiest girls in the world?"
Us: "Kilah and Nza."
Him: "That's right!"
Us: "We won..., made..., achieved.... etc...."
Him: "That's great Kilah Wilah/Nza Pinza. Makes my toes tingle!"
I carry his dark skin, his wiry hair, his slanted handwriting, a few of his mannerisms and his mother's maiden name.
It was with him that I ate my first (and last) raw egg, learned to pickle cucumbers (a process which I have long since forgotten), got my first taste of the French language he adores, and learned my first reggae dance steps. He is frugal, into healthy lifestyles and cares little about material goods. He loves music, languages and African sculpture. In his own way, he also loves his daughters. He speaks deliberately and does not waiver once a decision has been made. He is not easily affected.
And now he is sick.
I learned of his diagnosis a few days before I left and last week's surgery two days before it occured. He waited until the last minute to tell me of his diagnosis and surgery on purpose.
Him: "I've just come in from the garden so I wanted to call and let you know that my surgery is the day after tomorrow."
Me: "Why didn't you tell me before? I might have been able to be there. And why are you in the garden this late at night?"
Him: "That's why I didn't tell you. And I had to get my collards in the ground."
He then went on to explain, in explicit detail, the information concerning his prognosis. In the months between his diagnosis and his surgery, he had researched, compared and questioned. He educated himself on every possible facet of his illness, treatment options, side effects and longevity.
As I listened to him detail everything from the growth pattern of his tumor to the place where the initial incision would be made, I realized that my Dad had armed himself with a plethora of information because he is scared. Part of his defense is knowing the twists and turns of his disease before he reaches them. He is not a fan of surprises.
His daughter shares that trait with him.
He is back home now, healing, resting and awaiting more tests and treatment. He is being well cared for. I spoke with him briefly and he explained his goal of eating more solid foods before he faded. For the first time my tall, lean, stoic Father sounded old.
And his daughter was not prepared.
My sister and I were raised by our Mom. She loved, taught, sang, laughed, chauffered, fed, hugged, worried, rejoiced, disciplined, bought, made... She parented.
And though I am sure my Father caused her endless frustration, she did not allow his daughters to hate him.
"You shouldn't speak to your Dad that way. He loves you."
"Do you love him?"
"Yes. Because he helped me make you."
As adults, my sister and I made the decision to have a relationship with him. We have learned to enjoy the time we have with him inspite of his sporadic presence during our childhood. He is an intelligent quirky man. He was a French professor for over 30 years, he ran a bartending school and owned a cleaning service. He was not one to show much emotion, but was generous with his praise. He is an excellent cook, an avid vegetable gardener, and, in his retirement, he has mastered the game of pool.
Our infrequent childhood conversations and visits with him were filled with the following mantras:
Him: "Who are the prettiest girls in the world?"
Us: "Kilah and Nza."
Him: "That's right!"
Us: "We won..., made..., achieved.... etc...."
Him: "That's great Kilah Wilah/Nza Pinza. Makes my toes tingle!"
I carry his dark skin, his wiry hair, his slanted handwriting, a few of his mannerisms and his mother's maiden name.
It was with him that I ate my first (and last) raw egg, learned to pickle cucumbers (a process which I have long since forgotten), got my first taste of the French language he adores, and learned my first reggae dance steps. He is frugal, into healthy lifestyles and cares little about material goods. He loves music, languages and African sculpture. In his own way, he also loves his daughters. He speaks deliberately and does not waiver once a decision has been made. He is not easily affected.
And now he is sick.
I learned of his diagnosis a few days before I left and last week's surgery two days before it occured. He waited until the last minute to tell me of his diagnosis and surgery on purpose.
Him: "I've just come in from the garden so I wanted to call and let you know that my surgery is the day after tomorrow."
Me: "Why didn't you tell me before? I might have been able to be there. And why are you in the garden this late at night?"
Him: "That's why I didn't tell you. And I had to get my collards in the ground."
He then went on to explain, in explicit detail, the information concerning his prognosis. In the months between his diagnosis and his surgery, he had researched, compared and questioned. He educated himself on every possible facet of his illness, treatment options, side effects and longevity.
As I listened to him detail everything from the growth pattern of his tumor to the place where the initial incision would be made, I realized that my Dad had armed himself with a plethora of information because he is scared. Part of his defense is knowing the twists and turns of his disease before he reaches them. He is not a fan of surprises.
His daughter shares that trait with him.
He is back home now, healing, resting and awaiting more tests and treatment. He is being well cared for. I spoke with him briefly and he explained his goal of eating more solid foods before he faded. For the first time my tall, lean, stoic Father sounded old.
And his daughter was not prepared.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Day 45: Lost and Found
I had an interesting weekend, but I can't quite get my ego in check enough to write it with the truth it requires. I'm working on that. In the meantime, I'll tell you about crazy cool today.
My Tuesday started with a hike. My friend A and I had been talking about hiking together for awhile. He has lived in L.A. his whole life but has never been. He said he wanted to do a 'real' hike, so I took him to my favorite Vermont Canyon instead of Runyon which can seem more like a steep walk.
Vermont Cyn is a Griffith Park trail that takes you to one of the peaks next to the Hollywood sign. It is a 2 hour hike that offers a 360 degree view of L.A., including the ocean, catalina island and Forest Lawn cemetary in Glendale where MJ is buried. Not to mention endless mountain ranges. The views along the trail and from the peak are breathtaking.
The price you pay to have your breath taken away is a series of super steep climbs along the ridge line of a couple of way too high mountains. There are times during that hike where I have actually considered calling search and rescue to demand an explanation of "What in the hell I was thinking when I decided to do this today" followed by a request to "Come get me off the side of this mountain!". The rush is addictive though, and I find myself hiking it with Kasey at least once a week.
A and I set out at about 830 this morning and made to the peak around 930. He enjoyed it, but admitted that there were times when all he could think of was "a way out.". The climb down which takes you by the Hollywood sign takes a solid hour. It is pretty easy and allows for great conversation.
On the last leg of the descent, I reached into my pocket to make sure I had all of my things:
Phone - check
Keys, which I carry to scare away rattlesnakes - check
Drivers License, which I carry in case I have an unfortunate encounter with a moutain lion or a coyote - MISSING
In a split second I felt my airways constrict, my stomach churn and my knees lock, all of which I masked behind bulging eyeballs and a gaping mouth.
It was hot, we were almost to the car and our legs felt like jelly, but we turned around and hiked back up with our eyes glued to the ground.
me:"A, I owe you my first born."
him: "I'd rather have a smoothie."
Half an hour back into our re-climb I called it and full on panic set in as I realized that my perfectly good, nowhere near expired, matches the tag on my car and insurance in my glove compartment, license was gone. I couldn't drive without a license! How was I going to convince the DMV to give me a CA license when everything about my car is GA?! How would I get a new tag?! California insurance?! I'm not even sure I want to live here that long!
I stopped my pleading prayer long enough to explain my plight to a police officer and a park ranger. They were both very sympathetic, giving me cards and phone numbers to call, but held out little hope.
Soft spoken, laid back, California calm A explained that it wasn't a big deal and then treated me to a smoothie.
Later on at the studio, I sat researching CA licenses, tags and insurance. I made my appointment at the DMV and laughed out loud at the realization that I would have to take a driving test. I then worked myself into a hot flash at the realization that the completion of these steps would mean that I would be in California for awhile. I am not quite comfortable with that thought yet.
I took a class to calm my nerves and then ran to the office to check Facebook like the good little addict I have become. Imagine my surprise when I saw the following in my inbox:
"Hi, my name is Stephen and I found your license in Vermont Cyn today."
Hi Stephen.
He went on to explain where he lived (about 3 minutes from my front door) and gave his phone number. We made arrangements for me to pick it up from a hiding place on his front porch.
God is good.
And I'm buying a fanny pack.
My Tuesday started with a hike. My friend A and I had been talking about hiking together for awhile. He has lived in L.A. his whole life but has never been. He said he wanted to do a 'real' hike, so I took him to my favorite Vermont Canyon instead of Runyon which can seem more like a steep walk.
Vermont Cyn is a Griffith Park trail that takes you to one of the peaks next to the Hollywood sign. It is a 2 hour hike that offers a 360 degree view of L.A., including the ocean, catalina island and Forest Lawn cemetary in Glendale where MJ is buried. Not to mention endless mountain ranges. The views along the trail and from the peak are breathtaking.
The price you pay to have your breath taken away is a series of super steep climbs along the ridge line of a couple of way too high mountains. There are times during that hike where I have actually considered calling search and rescue to demand an explanation of "What in the hell I was thinking when I decided to do this today" followed by a request to "Come get me off the side of this mountain!". The rush is addictive though, and I find myself hiking it with Kasey at least once a week.
A and I set out at about 830 this morning and made to the peak around 930. He enjoyed it, but admitted that there were times when all he could think of was "a way out.". The climb down which takes you by the Hollywood sign takes a solid hour. It is pretty easy and allows for great conversation.
On the last leg of the descent, I reached into my pocket to make sure I had all of my things:
Phone - check
Keys, which I carry to scare away rattlesnakes - check
Drivers License, which I carry in case I have an unfortunate encounter with a moutain lion or a coyote - MISSING
In a split second I felt my airways constrict, my stomach churn and my knees lock, all of which I masked behind bulging eyeballs and a gaping mouth.
It was hot, we were almost to the car and our legs felt like jelly, but we turned around and hiked back up with our eyes glued to the ground.
me:"A, I owe you my first born."
him: "I'd rather have a smoothie."
Half an hour back into our re-climb I called it and full on panic set in as I realized that my perfectly good, nowhere near expired, matches the tag on my car and insurance in my glove compartment, license was gone. I couldn't drive without a license! How was I going to convince the DMV to give me a CA license when everything about my car is GA?! How would I get a new tag?! California insurance?! I'm not even sure I want to live here that long!
I stopped my pleading prayer long enough to explain my plight to a police officer and a park ranger. They were both very sympathetic, giving me cards and phone numbers to call, but held out little hope.
Soft spoken, laid back, California calm A explained that it wasn't a big deal and then treated me to a smoothie.
Later on at the studio, I sat researching CA licenses, tags and insurance. I made my appointment at the DMV and laughed out loud at the realization that I would have to take a driving test. I then worked myself into a hot flash at the realization that the completion of these steps would mean that I would be in California for awhile. I am not quite comfortable with that thought yet.
I took a class to calm my nerves and then ran to the office to check Facebook like the good little addict I have become. Imagine my surprise when I saw the following in my inbox:
"Hi, my name is Stephen and I found your license in Vermont Cyn today."
Hi Stephen.
He went on to explain where he lived (about 3 minutes from my front door) and gave his phone number. We made arrangements for me to pick it up from a hiding place on his front porch.
God is good.
And I'm buying a fanny pack.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Day 38: Free
I remembered today a time in my life that seems like a lifetime ago. While my teammates were and are some of the best people I've ever known, I was doing a job that had me so stressed that my body was trembling 24 hours a day and my hair was falling out. I felt strangled by the regulations that controlled my wardrobe, schedule and how often I answered the phone or responded to an email. I hated the fear that formed a knot in my stomach on the elevator not knowing what my inbox would look like on any given day or what new report I wasn't measuring up to. I cried on the way to work and on the way home.
I would sit at my desk or go to an empty office and stare out at the Atlanta skyline wondering why I wasn't doing something I enjoyed. Why wasn't I in some studio building sets or dancing or putting finishing touches on costumes or painting, gluing, nailing, taping...?
Today I spent the day at the Los Angeles Museum of Contemporary Art working on my boss' residency debut. I crawled around the floor in mismatched clothes helping to build 50 ft walls and an 18 foot divider. I cut, punched holes, reinforced, and tied together. I witnessed a space being transformed. I planned for the studio. I rehearsed and then watched my boss sew costumes in his hilltop house.
Tomorrow I'll be laying carpet on asphalt, re-tying, cutting, taping, dancing, running lights and celebrating.
I am tired.
I am covered from head to toe in fiberglass and itching like mad.
I am rejoicing at the realization of the answer to a whispered prayer.
I am free.
I would sit at my desk or go to an empty office and stare out at the Atlanta skyline wondering why I wasn't doing something I enjoyed. Why wasn't I in some studio building sets or dancing or putting finishing touches on costumes or painting, gluing, nailing, taping...?
Today I spent the day at the Los Angeles Museum of Contemporary Art working on my boss' residency debut. I crawled around the floor in mismatched clothes helping to build 50 ft walls and an 18 foot divider. I cut, punched holes, reinforced, and tied together. I witnessed a space being transformed. I planned for the studio. I rehearsed and then watched my boss sew costumes in his hilltop house.
Tomorrow I'll be laying carpet on asphalt, re-tying, cutting, taping, dancing, running lights and celebrating.
I am tired.
I am covered from head to toe in fiberglass and itching like mad.
I am rejoicing at the realization of the answer to a whispered prayer.
I am free.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Day 36: Life Stuff
I'm sitting here on my bed at half past midnight. My belly is full of steak and on-sale-for-$1 Haagen-Dazs raspberry sorbet, and my Pandora Debbie Gibson channel is rocking.
Reflections on this whimsical day:
-Woke up, got dressed for my hike and walked out into a wonderful cold Fall rain that would last all day.
-Went to flush the toilet only to realize that we had run out of water. Funny how a logical brain will subscribe to the belief that jiggling a handle will miraculously make water flow through pipes.
-Let six eggs explode because I put them on to boil and forgot about them. What happens to your brain after 30?
-Sat at work for an hour before I realized the roof was leaking a lake of water onto the studio floor.
-Mopped up the roof leak and then accidentally dumped the water back onto the studio floor, TWICE.
-Tripped over my own feet and fell into a closet and onto the studio's water heater, tearing the grill off the front. Still haven't figured out how to tell the boss about that...
-Met Sam Sparro, took his money, showed him how to use the studio sound system and smelled his bag without realizing he's the 'Black and Gold' singer.
-Took a great class from Ryan who is somehow managing to teach while choreographing and orchestrating his first of three shows for MOCA (L.A. Museum of Contemporary Art). He is injured and sleep deprived and still getting it in.
I loved this day.
I've also been sifting through this new feeling I've named Connected Disconnectedness.
I don't feel a connection to future, but I absolutely care about what's happening right now. I used to say things like, "Next year we'll do...." and "Next Summer let's try...", but I don't do that very often anymore, and when I do, it feels like the part of me that would normally mean it, steps out of the part that's speaking the words. I'm going through the motions but the sincerity isn't there.
Is living in the moment the same as feeling no connection to what might be?
I'd love to know what you think.
Funny and fascinating, this Life Stuff.
Reflections on this whimsical day:
-Woke up, got dressed for my hike and walked out into a wonderful cold Fall rain that would last all day.
-Went to flush the toilet only to realize that we had run out of water. Funny how a logical brain will subscribe to the belief that jiggling a handle will miraculously make water flow through pipes.
-Let six eggs explode because I put them on to boil and forgot about them. What happens to your brain after 30?
-Sat at work for an hour before I realized the roof was leaking a lake of water onto the studio floor.
-Mopped up the roof leak and then accidentally dumped the water back onto the studio floor, TWICE.
-Tripped over my own feet and fell into a closet and onto the studio's water heater, tearing the grill off the front. Still haven't figured out how to tell the boss about that...
-Met Sam Sparro, took his money, showed him how to use the studio sound system and smelled his bag without realizing he's the 'Black and Gold' singer.
-Took a great class from Ryan who is somehow managing to teach while choreographing and orchestrating his first of three shows for MOCA (L.A. Museum of Contemporary Art). He is injured and sleep deprived and still getting it in.
I loved this day.
I've also been sifting through this new feeling I've named Connected Disconnectedness.
I don't feel a connection to future, but I absolutely care about what's happening right now. I used to say things like, "Next year we'll do...." and "Next Summer let's try...", but I don't do that very often anymore, and when I do, it feels like the part of me that would normally mean it, steps out of the part that's speaking the words. I'm going through the motions but the sincerity isn't there.
Is living in the moment the same as feeling no connection to what might be?
I'd love to know what you think.
Funny and fascinating, this Life Stuff.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Day 34: Seven Months
Seven Months In And...
Faces are familiar.
Greetings are warmer.
Friendships are forming.
I've found a salon and stylist I love.
I can parallel park without hyperventilating.
My ears no longer pop when I'm driving up and down hills.
Gas prices no longer make my knees buckle.
People call me by name.
Plans are beginning to include me.
Conversations are easier.
I am finding peace.
My walls are wavering.
I am beginning to understand.
My concentration is shifting from what I'm missing, to what I'm experiencing.
There is predictability.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
One of the things I find fascinating about this place is how time passes. It's only been seven months, but each day feels like it holds the experiences of several different lives. I was standing on a mountaintop this morning, and at Target this afternoon. Tomorrow I'll be working at the studio all day, but standing on the boardwalk overlooking the beach at night.
The breadth of each day exceeds everything I've ever known and therefore, at times, I find it too much to comprehend. Sometimes when I look back on the day it's as if someone else has lived it. It's a strange out-of-body like emotion that is intoxicating. And one that I'm still trying to find a place for.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Seven Months In And....
I still find new experiences refreshing.
I still gasp at the view from the top of the mountains.
I am still in awe of the Hollywood sign.
I still get lost.
The weather still confuses me.
I still have experiences that leave me happily asking myself, "Did that just happen?"
Seven months in and I am still humbled by and so grateful for the blessings on this path.
May it always be this way.
Faces are familiar.
Greetings are warmer.
Friendships are forming.
I've found a salon and stylist I love.
I can parallel park without hyperventilating.
My ears no longer pop when I'm driving up and down hills.
Gas prices no longer make my knees buckle.
People call me by name.
Plans are beginning to include me.
Conversations are easier.
I am finding peace.
My walls are wavering.
I am beginning to understand.
My concentration is shifting from what I'm missing, to what I'm experiencing.
There is predictability.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
One of the things I find fascinating about this place is how time passes. It's only been seven months, but each day feels like it holds the experiences of several different lives. I was standing on a mountaintop this morning, and at Target this afternoon. Tomorrow I'll be working at the studio all day, but standing on the boardwalk overlooking the beach at night.
The breadth of each day exceeds everything I've ever known and therefore, at times, I find it too much to comprehend. Sometimes when I look back on the day it's as if someone else has lived it. It's a strange out-of-body like emotion that is intoxicating. And one that I'm still trying to find a place for.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Seven Months In And....
I still find new experiences refreshing.
I still gasp at the view from the top of the mountains.
I am still in awe of the Hollywood sign.
I still get lost.
The weather still confuses me.
I still have experiences that leave me happily asking myself, "Did that just happen?"
Seven months in and I am still humbled by and so grateful for the blessings on this path.
May it always be this way.
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