It’s been six months since I’ve written anything. I kept
telling myself that I’d get back to it when things slowed down, but things didn’t
slow down. Things sped up and things got complicated and there were always more
important things to do. Isn’t that how it always goes? And in the blink of an
eye, six months went by. The hell?
We’ve been watching the new Cosmos series with Neil Tyson deGrasse, so I know that six months barely registers as a silent fart in the
universe’s timeline and that my place on said timeline is of little to no consequence
in the grand scheme of universe-type things. So thank you, Universe, for making
me feel really, really small! AND inconsequential!
But seriously, much has been on my mind lately. Like, WHAT
HAS HAPPENED TO MY LIFE??? I raise my right hand to Cheesus and swear that I do
not regret leaving my old job – I don’t. I would have eventually destroyed the
place in a fit of uncensored and unbridled rage. In fact, my last day on the job I contemplated
riding my bike to work, but was afraid that I might storm off after a heated
exchange with one of my coworkers (AKA low hanging rotten fruit of the devil’s
loins) and forget my bike in the office after slamming the door and proceeding
to swallow the key. I didn’t want to take the chance of having to ask security
to open the door just to get my stupid 10-speed out of there, so I decided to
stay safe and drive instead. Note that the threat of being forcibly restrained
or incarcerated wasn’t even a thought in my mind. Not even a little bit.
No, I do not miss that life. Do I miss having a steady
paycheck? Fuck yes, I do! Anyone who
tells you that you don’t need money to be even a little bit happy in life is
from Crazypantstown, USA – Population “I have money, so I can say such ridiculous
things”. I found a $5 bill in an old
purse this morning and it actually brought a tear to my eye. Now that I’ve
spent that windfall here at Starbucks, you can find me sobbing silently into
their new form of sugar crack hell, a grande iced vanilla macchiato with extra
vanilla, over at the corner table by the window. Obviously, I still make bad
financial decisions – like turning down money for a singing gig coming up later
this week or giving away 2 dozen cookies for free last week. What can I say
other than I lack a fundamental understanding of how an exchange of services
works. It usually goes something like this…
Me: I do this for
you and you pay me? I give you these things and you give me money? No way.
Really? No way. Really? No way. Pssh……..pssh. Pssh. PSSH.
Customer: (confused look on their face leading to a slow
nod at my enthusiasm telling them to forget about it, and finally a quiet acceptance
that they are dealing with someone with limited mental capacity and a most unfortunate lack of business acumen).
Anyway, life is hard and crazy and busy right now with
working a part-time job and managing a baking business while trying to pick up
more singing gigs on the side. Survival mode is fierce (when I’m not busy
giving it all away for free). I’d like to try LIVING, but things like “mortgage”
and “bills” always seem to resurface on a monthly basis. But, as my dad always says, life is what you
make it, so I’ve promised myself that I’ll try harder at enjoying my time here on
this big spinning ball of good times by doing something fun and scary at least
once a day. After all, not everybody gets the chance, right? No one knows that
better than me and every other parent who’s lost a child. So on today’s agenda:
·
Fun thing: Cook a trout (I admit that this is not
particularly fun for the trout).
·
Scary thing (and this is only because I don’t
always trust myself to stay calm in situations like this): Talk to the priest
sitting next to me about the small matter of my shattered faith and growing
fury with God (update: this did not
go well. He was too busy talking about Facebook with some other dude who may or
may not have been a fellow priest in a track suit. He did bless me and tell me
to make an appointment though, so at least there’s that).
It’s hard. I still struggle with what happened to Ligaya. Of course I do. Those feelings come and go in long
waves. I can be “ok” for awhile then start to notice a growing crescendo of
discomfort – the way my heart will suddenly seize up being around other people’s
babies, the unexpected catch in my throat when telling someone that their little
one is sooo cute, the white, hot, searing pain of a thousand suns burning in my
chest when thinking about what life would be like – SHOULD be like – had Ligaya been allowed to stay. She would
have been a year and a half tomorrow.
The pain and the longing never really do go away no matter
how much time passes...and in MY world, on MY timeline of MY universe, that’s neither small nor
inconsequential.
Man, it hurts.
And still, I move forward - trying to survive, trying to
live.
Tomorrow, I sing in front of tens of thousands of people at
the Angels game. It never gets old. That’s my fun and scary thing for the
day. As always, I hope I make her proud.
1 comment:
I'm positive she's proud of you. I KNOW I am. Just keep doing what you're doing.
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