chemo, cancer and Urlacher!

At the tail end of a beautiful summers’ night of birthday celebrating, A friend was ruminating on how similar she looks to her mother.  She was enjoying a cigarette while paging through her digital and realized how much she looks like her mother who had died when she was young.  It made her cry.

 

In the same moment a young gentleman walked by and asked her– not so politely to give him her camera and her purse.  Being the fiery-sprite-like pixie that she is she told him to fuck off and screw himself. 

He did not oblige.

Instead he and a friend heaved upon her, one brandishing a pistol.  He grabbed her wrist, from which the apparatus was hanging and pounded the back of her head with the butt of his gun, he was still pulling at her wrist when the gun went off and shot clean through her thigh. She had been shot.  The men ran and got away with the camera and the purse.

Later that night the work on patching her up had gone on without incident.  However, her belly had risen to a height that she had never seen before…The doctors said that the trauma had caused her belly to fill with liquid- A liter and a half worth of liquid.  Trauma’s sometimes, somehow highlights other things that happen in the body that have gone on ignored.

 

It seems as though my vibrant, young friend has Cancer.  Her ovaries were removed that night and she was quickly given a list of people and places to go.

 

My friend has Cancer.

 

One night of trivial violence has turned into a struggle for life.  No children to be had, no work, no insurance, and a diagnosis that has rendered her helpless, depressed, alone, lost and angry.  The diagnosis is quite new and she is still reeling.  We found out last week that the Cancer has spread to part of her colon. 

Because she was a Hostess at a hip Restaurant downtown, she is rendered Insurance-LESS, but she knows many people in the industry and Sunday night 10/05/08 Bon V had a fundraiser The Bears had made a bet, If they won the game they would show up.  It was a great night.  Kelly Arrived fashionably late and as chic as ever and the crowd roared, they pulled her there and here and everywhere.  She didn’t drink, I grabbed her and said hey, long time no see, pretty girl! That’s how I always greet her.  She smiled with that I’m a rock star look on her face with a tinge of humiliation and a hint

 of pride and a smidge of her usual caustically cynical aloofness, Thanks, doll.

 

A friend has Cancer.

 

It’s crazy.  And I’m still reeling, and I am most certain so is she.

 

At the end of the night there were three $5000.00 holistic packages for raffle.  By the end of the FIRST hour they had all been purchased for her and Urlacher showed up and some of the other players I don’t know did as well and donated generously, I went home early cause I had an interview.

 

Kelly Mulqueeny started Chemo-Therapy last week.

 

 

If you would like to donate ANYTHING to her fund (that they are still in the process of setting up and establishing) please contact me at modstar30@hotmail.com and I will connect you to the proper folks!  Thanks for your time.

 

Am at work so cannot write fully about this but will in a later blog.

 

Such as Life V.2

It’s one of those days. That beautiful crisp autumnal reach of brilliant light that climb around hearty stalks of slowly drying birch and oaks, where leaves are grasping for their last breath of vibrant green— where the rich reds, deep ochre’s breach the fading bud and bloom into a new phase of life. The day is quiet. It is serene. Heady.

I woke up this morning invaded by a nasty taste in my mouth- a smokers’ hangover, one that could keep most good women down. Last night my mind raced. It jumped from one activity to the next.

Write down goals for the distant future
Write down goals for the not-so-distant future
Start crocheting a new scarf
Write down your visioning dreams
Do Morning Pages-scratch that wait till the am.
Don’t miss Two and a Half Men
Start your psychic Journal
Try to meditate for the 40th time tonight
Have another cigarette
Masturbate-scratch that, may take too much time
sleep?
wake?
Stare into the blackness for about an hour or so.
Watch In Bruges for the 4th time tonight.

When was it said that you should under-compensate for your skills to get a job? I finished a gig that was meant to last 2-3 weeks. I was supposed to move some files to a different department, reorganize them and label them-in heels no less. I was told that it was an assignment that called for my strong organizational skills and Microsoft Applications experience, I was prepared to be behind a desk for the whole of the day. Instead, I wore my best shoes, fabulous and high to do hardcore labor and moving equipment and files. Nice.

I had believed this assignment to be a way to keep me busy while my original contact was at home gathering all of her soggy insurance documentation from a flooded basement in a waterlogged suburb that was hit by our 72 hour rainstorm. Little had I known- this reorganization project WAS the 2-3 week assignment.

Terribly excited about the prospect of guaranteed income (rent) for the next 2 weeks (at least) I jumped the gun by taking a feigned leave of absence from the hideously tragic telemarketing job that I had held for 5 weeks. I had high hopes to move onward and upward from the temp assignment at the Wrigley Building. Anything was better than aggravating already annoyed prospects, some of which had lost jobs, down sized their possessions and really wasn’t in the market for any jerk trying to trade her wares for their hard earned cash. Instead I had given them an unofficial leave of absence and purchased 3 professional outfits to get ready for the weeks ahead of me.

I arrived at 8:30. My contact had changed he pointed out the work that needed to be done. 26 tall, deep and long vertical files had to be transferred, reorganized and labeled. Needless to say I was done before lunch. My assignment was officially and unceremoniously over. A retarded ape may have taken about 2-3 weeks to finish the job. I am no retarded ape.
Thank god for my experience with the mundane, repetitive, mindless shizah I had been blessed with in the past. Now I know what it was ALL for.

The Universe has got me cradled in her heaving bosom!

Well at least I had an interview set up for the following day. But when I woke up with that awful smoking exhaustion, there was an ominous voice mail message beeping at me from my employment agency, it lay in wait on my cell phone as I tried to get past the sun in my eyes and the chill on the toilet seat.

The company had hired from within. Your interview has been cancelled. Your time spent all weekend positive visioning, meditating, manifesting, studying and rehearsing in fron of the mirror has paid off! Be hold! Preparation for No one. Its like waiting on a blind date that never comes. Beautiful!

Oh, I am not ungrateful, just disgruntled. A broke, disgruntled, unemployed, apparently unemployable, ex-telemarketer who did her job too well to keep it going long enough to earn money for toothpaste and toilet paper. Ah, such is life, I suppose.

Well, at least I have therapy.

grossly addicted…

oh how I’ve missed you ALL, let me count the ways.

It has been a minute and a grip since I have been able to catch up on my FAVORITE writers on wordpress-thus far. But I had to do a shout out—just in case I have a handfull of readers left. My viewers are few and far between, but I see you sneaking up here from time to time checking out the page if not by accident than atleast for a couple of seconds.

Thank You all for your loyal viewership, It is ridiculously appreciated and I will have more time to catch up on the following FAVORITES in the weeks to come. I miss ALL y’all’s stuff dearly and I hope to reaquaint myself with you very soon.

Respectfully,

Timbre (the filmmaker)

If you have a moment you MUST check these writers out!!! And please, ENJOY the mad, crazy brilliance!

Wixed Mords
Dillsnap Cogitations
My Sweetest Down Fall
Funky Brown Chick
Not Graceful Enough To Be a Julia
What Men Think

the sex life of idiots.

I’ve got nothing.

Seriously.

Nothing.

what do oprah winfrey and hot dogs have in common?

For the first time in my life in Chicago, I par-took in some Chicago-touristy-sadness. I used to live down the street from the Art Museum and never visited. I lived across the street fro Grant Park (now, the commerce hell they call Millennium Park) for 7 years and never once, went to The Taste of Chicago. One, because I hated crowds and B, because I hated crowds from the suburbs worse. I have never visited Lincoln Park Zoo, Sears Tower, Wrigley Field, The Hancock or been to a Sox game. But on Friday, last week I attended my first Oprah Winfrey show. Oprah and Chicago are like Hot Dogs and Baseball. Tatum O’Niel and Lisa Ling were the guest stars and they spoke about addiction. Lisa Ling did a report on heroine addiction in the heart of the Midwest, middle America USA. What I can say about it…It was a show. Thanks Op!

notes on the ride home

I looked out the window, finally the warmth has come. People are everywhere. My thoughts were strangely positive and full of joy. I am still reeling from the Cancer diagnosis of the love of my life, my 5 year old Scottish Terrier, Shadow, yet my heart fell on softer images today that made me remember what ruminating on the prospect of death and dying may be for…appreciating the good and the beauty.

Two friends have graduated today, which should be a happy occasion, but I just can’t bring myself to attend. I feel absolutely lousy about my feeble attempts to maintain and nurture my friendships and other relationships.

I hate that I don’t have good listeners in my life. Is that because I am not one myself?

bad day. beautiful day, I might take a vicodin for the sheer enjoyment of closing my eyes and shutting the world off for a moment…

go figure.

okay…

Have you ever had one of those days when everything was just going wrong?  You miss the bus by a half a block, a train passenger persists on shoving you while you try to drink your coffee, some entitled asshole waves his morning paper an eigth of an inch away from your face, your cell is not fully charged, you left your i-pod at home and you can’t be sure and its too crowded on the train to check, but you’re almost positive that you forgot your keys in the door on your way out, someone jumps in front of you at the McDonalds breakfast line, you can’t afford the good cat food and you have to deal with the dismal fact that they will inevitably be farting up a storm in your tiny studio apartment…

Needless to say, I am not feeling very peachy or creamy today. 

I have dismissed my classes for a less than stellar job making less than stellar income in the attempt to pay rent.  Its not going well.

I have lost 18 lbs which could be the upside tothe start of an otherwise more than off-kilter year.

I said yes.

I gathered up the pile of dirty clothes from the foot of the bed and shoved them into the hamper.  I made sure that the picture of he and I were plain out of sight.  I quickly put the sheets on the bed in a fashionable order so as not to frighten my company too soon and I made sure that I wore that lacy number the one with black lace and pale pink accents.

men wanted.

I have decided that I need more male friends.  Platonic, flirtatious, business, wing-man, lover, best friend, supportive, big brother.  I don’t care what type of relationship, I just want to experience more male friendships. 

 

Do I actually believe that women can be friends with men? Ultimately, Yes.  However, the relationship will always begin in a lop-sided manner.  One will suddenly find the other attractive and it becomes this elaborate dance of innocent flirtation, then an intentional drunken night of mishaps and excusable regrets…

 

Oh, it’s the story of life isn’t it?  I think women ultimately know what they want therefore ultimately know exactly what they are doing.

 

When I go out on a date with a stranger I am sizing him up, wondering whether or not he will make a good lover.  Within 5 minutes I have already decided if I will sleep with him or not.  The rest of the time is spent categorizing his worthiness.  That is a bit stronger than I’d like to let on…I’m actually deducing my approach.  If he is one of the following:

 

1. Boyfriend material – Has the particular qualities that I admire in a man or partner and the annoying things that I can learn to live with.  This would usually consist of height, intelligence, humor, good looks, creativity, acumen, passion, slight arrogance, confidence and talent.

 

2. Make-out material- Because he’s such a commitment- phobe and probably emotionally handicapped and because I probably mirror his issues exactly, he can only be good for one thing and that’s the innocent “platonic” dates that end up in making out on the couch or in a safe place, like a restaurant bathroom stall or mosh pit.  He’s usually more sensitive than any of the other jerks that I’m dating and I’m probably really attracted to that part of him but everyone knows I want the mohawked, tattooed, rock boy with the pierces and intellect of a rogue street philosopher and looks of a Jewish god.  (hmmmm. I don’t think that’s possible.)

 

2. Partner in crime material- A partner in crime is a man who usually has an agenda but you don’t take him too seriously, but he’s hot enough to date casually.  He can be that really great friend who makes you laugh and feel good whenever you’re with him.  He’s what my girls and I call the back burner guy.  You go out to movies and sushi and bars and clubs or concerts, you act like boyfriend and girlfriend but you have your eye on others or even better…dating the boyfriend material guy at the same time.  His pathology is usually that of an emotional cripple his humor hides his inability to be intimate.

 

3. Friends with benefit material- This should be self explanatory.  This is the guy that you hang out with when you feel lonely and ugly and fat and you need a little pick-me-up.  You care for each other as human beings but for whatever reason, cannot tolerate each other as a significant other.  This guys pathology usually reduces back to that mutual emotional handicap we discussed earlier

 

4. Wing man material- This guy is great to hang out with.  He’s cute, funny smart, intelligent—he could be boyfriend material if it werenn’t for one huge reason—There’s no way in hell he’d date you, whether you’re not his type, he doesn’t find you attractive or he just LOVES his singlehood, he will not touch you with a ten foot stick.  He thinks of you as a guys girl, cute enough just not enough for him.  So you go out have a great time “upping each others stock” therein living the fantasy of “dating” but using each others attractiveness for a mutually beneficial relationship.

 

I have already gathered that I must have some serious issues that get me caught up with these silly philosophies but I guess it’s just how I roll—peace.

 

More later…AKA To be continued