I haven't written here in a while, and it probably has to do with being back home and enduring the intensity of the holidays.  Christmas was entirely too difficult to deal with, but I got through it, and enjoyed sitting and being home with my family.  I have been bombarded with the question of what I am doing for new years quite a bit lately, as is customary around this time of year, but I really do not want to do anything.  Last year I worked on New Years until about 10 and went home to find Meliss at home waiting for me, so we could spent the rest of that night together.  When I am able to separate those memories from these days, and realize that tonight is just another night, one of thousands that will make up the rest of my life.  Separating the realities is difficult though, and something that I still have yet to accomplish.  I imagine I will force myself out tonight with friends, forcing a smile, and pretending like I am fine.  Everything is so dependent on how I feel in that exact moment when I am asked to go out though, so it is impossible to make plans in advance.  For now, I am going to go and enjoy this 70 degree weather and cool breeze.  

A list of what I am listening too right now. In no particular order.  Yes, this is important.

• Radiohead,  In Rainbows -  Check out this new album.  It is amazing.  Simple, and much different from Hail to the Thief, which I did not care for.
  
• The Go Find, Stars on the Wall- Not a coincidence the second to last song on this album is titled Kid OK.  Slightly influenced by Radiohead, this mellow, electronic style keeps me from finishing the album because I keep playing the songs over and over.  Much quieter than his first, it is a perfect companion for lonely nights.
• Belle & Sebastian, Dear Catastrophe Waitress.
• Amos Lee, my favorite songs; Soul Suckers, Black River, Keep it Loose Keep it Tight, Arms of a Woman.

Please check em out.  Oh, and I have posted a potential idea for some artwork I may have done.  Just an idea.  Any thoughts?

She shouldn't have died. It was a tragic mistake. She knew she shouldn't have been drinking, I only wish I could have talked her out of going. Or at least gone with her. Her stupid, ignorant sister in law decided to bring Meliss along with her, and include her in the destructive behavior. Her stupid sister in law. I hope she spends her life in misery. She knew Meliss had epilepsy. I just don't understand how she could have been so dumb. To cause such destruction that night and leave me there to find it in the morning. Melissa didn't even like her. We met her for the first time and Melissa thought she was talkative, annoying and odd. Hours were spent on many nights talking about how she disliked her. She put on her happy face for her brother yet behind closed doors for a while spoke with apprehension over her new family. But she was not her family, and never will be. She was poison that night. And I will forever think of her as the driving force behind her death.

I took this photo when she decided to paint her room pink. It ended up turning out a bit different than what she wanted, but as always, she didn't fuss. She is so gorgeous. It amazes me to this day. The way her hair centers her perfect features, and falls down, almost to her shoulders. I love this photograph. Piper, the other girl in the photo, was the only person I thought to call to come to the hospital the day Melissa died. I can feel what it was like to walk into the room and see the two of them painting and laughing.

I am home now and I never imagined how hard it would be to come back here. I haven't even gone back to Santa Barbara yet, which I am no way near ready for, but just coming back here is difficult. I wrote the previous post on the airplane, and felt pretty damn strong. Walking into my home though, and seeing her duvet on my bed, her notes on a yellow pad of paper, and then seeing her obituary. An obituary was written for Melissa. That can't be. It's just been so long since I've talked to her, it hurts so much. I knew coming home would be walking back into the fire, but this is nothing like I could ever imagine. The pain I have been trying to deal with has all come rushing back in at one time. I wrote that last night was glorious. Perhaps in that moment in time, and I am grateful for those few hours of tranquility and peace but I am now back into the depth of this torment. This does not change the fact that I am where I belong right now though. I need to be here, where my heart was broken. It feels good to sleep with her pillows and blankets. The fragrance of all of it whisks me right back on Elise Way. Right around the corner from Lazy Acres Market, where we would walk to get stuff for dinner. God I miss that. It has only been a few months, but it really has been a lifetime. The person I am now is entirely different than the one I was back then. I sit and cry over the loss of her, and I don't know if she would recognize me now. Her death defines the man that I am today. I carry it in everything I do. I am just so much different, both in how I look and how I feel. The metamorphosis began the moment I found out what happened to her and I hope there is still some of me left when it all comes to an end.

My Yellow Brick Road

I am writing this on board Delta flight 7670 heading up the coast, back to California. The ocean is to my left and the sun is setting. A path is given to me in the distance on the horizon, leading me all the way home, in the form of a color. I'll explain. The sky is forming different levels of colors. At the top, a grayish blue, which fades down into a green, and then to yellow, to orange, and finally to pink. Similar to the shades found in a rainbow sherbert. At the bottom, a bright pink layer, as bright as she would have hoped it to be. I instantly know my idea to return home is indeed the correct one. I told myself that I was going home to see her, to sit at the cemetery and talk to her, and I’ve had many doubts the last few days, for one reason or another. But here she is, leading me all the way home. I know that it may seem absurd to some, but these are the things that give me a bit of comfort nowadays. The comfort of her touch and of her glances are all but memories. The comfort of waking up next to her, and falling asleep with her in my arms are only in my mind, and now I look toward earthly signs that she is indeed here with me, helping me. Loving me. The sky is now a deep deep blue, as dark as the ocean it reflects, but the pink still remains. As vibrant and beautiful as it was before. The moon shines through this blue canvas, a bright white light in the sky yet the sun is still creating this pink sliver of comfort. It is her. Descending into Los Angeles now, finally home, it remains for another few minutes before it disappears over the edge of the earth. As I am told to close my computer, all that is left is the moon illuminating this glorious night.

Side note*- I love the "have a safe flight" comments from people prior to someones departure on an airplane. As if anyone can really control whether or not the pilot is an idiot, a drunk, or a terrorist. Like saying, "have a safe flight" really gives comfort. I mean, if someone doesn't say it, and then the plane starts to go down, are you really thinking to yourself, as you are nosediving through the air, amidst screams and little bags of peanuts flying everywhere, stealing the old womans oxygen mask sitting next to you because yours doesn't work, "god damn you timmy!, why didnt you tell me to have a safe flight!"

I make my triumphant return this evening to the city of angels. All packed up and ready to go, once again I wish I had the power to travel through time, only now It would be used to move these next six hours forward in order to get home quicker. Although, if I had the power to travel through time, I wouldn't be focused on going forward rather I would put the wheels of time in reverse for a few months and then perhaps put it into park for a while and let me sit with her and tell her that I love her, and to not go to SF and that I am sorry. I would probably put time at a standstill, not wanting to leave that moment with her, existing in her eyes forever. A fixture in each others consciousness.

Lying on the roof, counting
The stars that fill the sky
I wonder if
Someone in the heaven's looking back down on me
I'll never know

So much space to believe
When you're small
The moon follows the car
There's no one but you
Hey, the the moon is chasing me

I worried if I looked away, she'd be gone
Don't lose the dreams inside your head
They'll only be there 'til you're dead
Dreaming.

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I am coming home soon, the excitement is almost palpable and I can hardly sit still. I am excited to go to the cemetery and talk to her.  I know she isn't there.  Something is inherently wrong with saying I am excited to go to the cemetery, but its true.  I want to sit her grave site and talk to her. Maybe going there will make it real.  I am just so tired of going to sleep only hoping that when I wake I will realize that this has been all one terrible nightmare.  

So Meliss and I got word one evening that my little sister was going to be at her home all weekend, and that none of her roommates would be there.  This was also during a time that she was kind of, sort of dating this guy, and there was no way in hell we were going to allow her to be alone with him.  So we decided we would drive from Santa Barbara to Santa Cruz one evening and surprise her, and stay with her for the weekend.  This photo was taken in my sisters living room, during that weekend.  Some of the best memories I have are the road trips we enjoyed together, just the two of us.  Something so beautiful about just being in the car together, driving through the middle of nowhere, talking and listening to music.  I will never forget that, and I would give up anything for one more hour.

I am ill.  And no, I don't mean ill as in Illson5, J. Carusos screen name.  I have no idea how I remember that.  I'm sick.  And tired.  I left 2 days after her funeral and two months later I haven't returned home yet.  I need to come home so I can go to the cemetery and make sure there are flowers and that it is nice and tidy.  I need to talk to her and tell her how hard it is to live in a world without her.  I can't leave here soon enough.  Don't tell anyone I'm coming home, its a secret. 

I'm back. Like Jordan. Like the Spice Girls. Like 80's florescent colors. Like the high fade.

---

I have been working feverishly on this now, figuring out if it will be a short novel, or memoir. I have decided to put a portion of the first chapter here online, and hopefully I will get some feedback. And yes, I know, there are grammatical errors, I am well aware.



When I decided that I would paint her toenails today, there was no doubt in my mind as to the color. I leave my home at ten o’clock in the morning, the same time I do everyday, and head down Pico Boulevard with a kit full of products used to beautify ones finger and toe nails, with a shade of polish so vibrantly pink, that many, upon seeing this color, may immediately think of the color adorned so famously by a doll named Barbie. I knew it was perfect. I knew she would approve. “The color is definitely pink enough, the color is Melissa,” I thought as I nod my head in awareness of the parking attendant I have become so familiar with lately that I even notice that he has changed the part in his hair today. I gather up the nail file, clippers I found in my bathroom, polish, cuticle oil, pedicure scrub brush, and geranium sage and peppermint lotion. “If only she knew what I was doing,” I thought, hoping to somehow convince myself that today was perhaps a bit more normal than usual. I inhale from my cigarette deeply one last time, and as I blow the smoke out of my lips and into the warm air of this September morning, the light breeze not even cooling down this day, I flick it to the ground, and step on it as I climb the steps into the hospital and into the cool air conditioned lobby of the UCLA medical center. Couches outline the walkway to the elevators, where anxiously awaiting family members and new patients sit. I walk through this runway, clutching my nail products until I arrive at the elevators where I find myself standing and waiting with a herd of medical staff, children holding balloons, and a few elderly women in wheel chairs. I turn around and walk back toward the lobby and into a doorway that leads me to the stairwell. There was no way I would be able to stand patiently. Not today. I start running up the steps, as if I am training for a triathlon. Images of people running up bleachers at football stadiums on Saturday afternoons come to mind as I briskly pass doctors going up and down from floor to floor. Climbing seven flights of stairs would normally be quite the exercise, but today I am adamant about getting to her as quick as possible. I reach the seventh floor in less than sixty seconds, not even feeling the slightest bit out of breath. I enter the hallway of the seventh floor and turned to my right. My hands tense slightly, and I feel my fingers tighten, forcing me to pull them apart one by one as I began to move down the hall. I walk until I pass the nurses station on the left, under the sign that reads ‘Neuro-Science, 7th Floor West Wing,’ and into room 768. My heart begins to throb rapidly, and I take one, drawn out, deep breath as I enter into the room. I notice a new flower arrangement on the windowsill, and for a brief second I think her eyes track mine. No. Not today. 5 weeks and I am still fooled by this beautiful yet brutal apparition. “Hi meliss, its me,” I say as I walk close to her and kneel next to the hospital bed. I do this daily, kneeling at her hospital bed. I kneel at her hospital bed as a man would kneel when asking for a woman’s hand in marriage. She is sitting up right today, her back at a forty-degree angle or so, her head tilted slightly to my left. A pillow keeps her head propped up, preventing her from completely resembling a rag doll, and her eyes open every so slightly, as if she is peeking to see who it was that entered into her room. The cut in her lip, probably from the seizure, and the subsequent fall into the bathtub has healed, and the swelling in her face has subsided. The tremors in her arms and legs are not as severe as the day before, which I am glad for, and she only twitches ever so slightly. Her arms and legs are in constant motion, never taking a moment to rest. A constant, unmethodical movement. But she looks beautiful. Her skin is clear and soft, and to think, she hasn’t used any products or facial scrub in quite some time. Even when her eyes are open, and even though they do not look at anything in particular, her oval shaped brown eyes, tinted with a slight amber tone, causes me to stare at her, as I did on so many mornings, anxiously awaiting for her to rise from her slumber. Her hair, a natural color of chestnut and mocha, with small waves of a lighter shade, similar to the sand found on the beaches close to our apartment in Santa Barbara, had been put up in a pony tail, and knowing she would find it bothersome, I take out the rubber-band and let her hair exhale as it collapses down to her shoulders. Her lips, corresponding puzzle pieces with mine, created to fit perfectly, are smooth and full, resting gently. I take my hands and press my palms to her cheeks as I kiss her forehead softly and then sit down on the hard plastic chair next to her bed, keeping one hand on hers as I sit.

I have started to research and create the outline for my book.  I have tried to update this blog as much as possible, and will continue to do so however I may miss a few days here and there, just because I need to focus all of my writing into this one project for now.  

My mom leaves tomorrow to go back to LA.  It was quite nice having her here.  And if you are wondering when I am coming back, it will not be for a while.  I miss my family and friends, but I also am enjoying this change.  It is a slow way of life, and it is forcing me to take my time in everything I do.  I need this right now, the time to focus on myself and on what I am trying to accomplish.  

I took this photo one morning, probably close to 7 am or so.  Her last quarter at UCSB, she decided she would take Ballet.  She went out and bought the cutest outfits, as well as pink ballet shoes.  She had her tights, thick socks, head band, etc.  And every morning the alarm would go off at 6:45 so she could get up and get ready to go to her ballet class.  She would take the bus at 7:15 from the transit center to UCSB.  I would wake up every morning with her, and watch her as she got ready for school.  She would first go to the sink and wash her face and brush her teeth.  She always needed a towel next to sink because she kept her eyes totally shut after she washed her face.  She was afraid of the water getting in her eyes.  After that she would get dressed, and gather her stuff for school that day.  On some days, especially the cold ones, she might jump back into bed for a few more minutes to stay warm.  This is what makes me sad.  Remembering the tiny little things she would do, things that I don't think anyone else in the world knew about her. As something as small as how she would reach for a wash cloth, which was in such a particular way.  And everytime it was exactly the same.  Well, I adore this photo. Even though I had to wake up every morning VERY early during these few months, watching her was well worth it.   I had the pacific ocean off in the distance, and in the foreground the most beautiful ballerina within my grasp.

More Photos

Right around the corner from my home.  Come visit!

How can I just walk away and say goodbye? We have all been told that if you love somebody you have to set them free but I would rather be locked to her forever. She is not even alive, and I would rather be chained to her existence forever. People keep telling me that time is the only thing that can help me through this. How does time help me with these feelings? Time is making it worse, for it is time that keeps reminding me that she is still not here, and never will be. Time is the only thing that separates her from being alive and dead. Time is what is keeping her dead. I just need to be able to reverse it and go back a few months to help her. I should have been there. I should have done so much more. It drives me crazy to think about what I could have done differently that could have altered this outcome. Please tell me that this pain will subside and everything will be alright once again. Please tell me that I will once again have some semblance of normality. Even if the reality of it is not entirely normal, perhaps there will be a sliver of truth. I just know that my love is pure, and that inside my soul she is beautiful. Nothing else matters.

I can't believe it has been two months since I held her hand for the last time, in room 768, at the UCLA medical center.  Two months ago today, I walked into the hospital room, as I always did, hoping that that day would be the one that she would start tracking my eyes.  I sat in front of her talking to her and massaging her arms and legs for hours, just waiting for the moment  her eyes would follow me.  September 23rd was different though, and as I walked into the room I was greeted by about 10 people in her room, running around, talking, taking notes, changing chords, checking vital signs, etc.  It was chaotic to say the least.  It was at that moment that I knew that something was terribly wrong.  I had left the day before a little worried, because she had a slight fever, and it wasn't the fever that bothered me so much but the way the nurse acted about it.  I was so mad that she had not given her anymore tylenol.  I mean, she had a fever and she has to have tylenol to help get it down!  Little did I know that her fever was the very least of the problems.  I arrived that sunday morning, and was greeted by three doctors, all of whom discussed with me the dire situation that Meliss was strugging with.  They had seen me plenty around the hospital, and didn't even care that I wasn't family.  I told them they would have to repeat everything they said to me when her family did arrive.  It was only fifteen or twenty minutes later that her mom and brother got there.  I can't believe it has been two months since her cold hand lay in mine.  Each passing day makes me want to go back to that time even more.  Each passing day makes me worry that my memories of her are fading.  I would rather be in the thick of the pain than on the edge of it.  I fear that I am not even close to finding a way out of this depression though and for that, I am both grateful and worried.  I find myself sick today, in bed, and missing her.  The last time I was sick was in Santa Barbara, and both Melissa and I found ourselves in bed with the flu. We took turns walking down to the grocery store a few blocks away to stock up on theraflu and gatorade.  We watched movies and lay in bed.  We took turns making soup for each other and getting cold wash cloths to keep us cool.  I can actually remember what the air felt like in Santa Barbara as I walked back from the store with my canvas bag, waiting to see what reality show she had turned too.  I can remember what it felt like to walk back into my apartment, and see her laying on my bed. What a glorious time that was to be sick and miserable in bed.  It was heaven.

Today being thanksgiving I thought I would make a short list of what I am thankful for, even though it is quite difficult for me to give thanks for anything right now. Despite my obvious misgivings on this day, here is what I give thanks for:

• My family, who has stood by me and supported me with love, especially over the last few months.  Without them, who knows where I would be.
• My friends, who have given me endless amounts of support.  Always offering time to listen,  dealing with my manic state of mind lately, and for looking out for me when I wasn't looking out for myself.  
• Mother Nature, who provided enough rain on that January day to cause both Meliss and I to miss our trains, which helped us find each other.
• My memory, because after Meliss gave me her phone number,  I stupidly lost my phone, but luckily I had made sure to memorize her number, solely for the chance that I would in fact lose my phone.  I am so thankful for my memory in that occasion.
• To the academic dean at UCSB, who did not let Meliss enroll back into UCSB, causing her to take an extra year of school at CC, which led to one of the greatest years of my life.  Who knows what would have happened if she would have moved home sooner had he let her back in a year earlier.  If I could remember your name, I would thank you personally. 
• To Boogey, you were a good friend, and although I kinda ditched you for her, I am thankful that we are still homeys.  Sorry, I just couldn't resist her.
• To Steve-Dub, thank you for being so damn crazy....it always made me feel better about myself.
• To the Go Find, Dave Matthews Band, Frank Sinatra, and the John Butler Trio, for providing music for us on many nights.  I couldn't have done it without you guys.
• To My Meliss, thank you for loving me the way you did, the way you still do, and the way you always will.  It warms my soul to think of you.  

It won't be soon but while we wait
Our reasons sew away
You crawl out of our holes into the open air
Take this so long I cry away
In corners you refill
I don’t know what I see
But I know its not fair
Baby, say you love me
I won't leave her waiting as anyone would
You call me up and say hello, so sad
Take a minute to come again
And now I’m watching by
And it's all into the old way back
We swing our hands in hope that everything comes back
I don’t believe what you're saying
I don’t believe what your doing here
Tell me good intentions
And what you hang from your tree
I believe what you said
And walking by my door
You tell me you love me...

In the days after leaving San Francisco, I spent my days holed up in the back room of the house, most of the time listening to music and writing about her. Waiting for her to be able to be moved down to UCLA. I wrote her countless letters, telling her how much I love her, to reminiscing about our lives together. These days were not normal. I rarely remember looking at the time, and only figured out the time based on when I would receive reports from her family about how long she had gone between seizures. She had suffered so much brain damage that she was constantly seizing, and I just remember when we were all just focused on waiting for the doctors to tell us that they were able to control the seizures. When I heard for the first time that she had gone 15 minutes without a seizure I actually smiled, and felt confident she would be alright. 15 minutes. I was happy that she did not have a seizure for 15 minutes. Saying I wasn't ready to accept the severity of what happened would be quite the understatement.

Hani Hani

I'd like to explain the title of my blog.  It indirectly has to do with Chris Hani, the South African political activist, and opponent of the apartheid government who was assassinated in 1993.  A year after his death, elections were held that were the first in South Africa without legalized racial segregation.  However, that is for an entirely different post.  The important thing was that a few days after his death, my favorite band, led by Dave Matthews, wrote a song entitled #36, which begins with the words "hani hani, come and dance with me." It is a very popular song, which eventually morphed into the song Everyday. Today, the song is sung as "honey honey, come and dance with me." Now, one of the first times Melissa and I saw DMB live, as this song began to start, everyone in the crowd began singing these words. However, for some reason or another, I was singing "1-800, come and dance with me." I remember looking over at her, and her saying "wait, what are you saying?" It's not that I didn't know the words to the song, but I knew it would make her laugh. Anyways, after that, these words were an inside joke of sorts between the two of us. It was just one of many ways I knew I could make her smile. Below you will find one rendition of the song, but it isn't a live version from a large concert, so you will just have to imagine how it would sound with thousands of people singing the same line over and over for a few minutes.

I think I have found myself in a sort of melancholic depression. I go through a few days where I just sleep and sleep and sleep some more, and others that I can barely close my eyes, let alone fall asleep at night. I have definitely lost quite a bit of weight, and am probably around 150 pounds, if not lighter than that. Most of the time, my mornings are the most difficult. I just don't want to get up and go to my class, and have to talk to myself out loud, and talk to her, in order to get up and out of the house. I find myself talking to her as I walk through the town, and can only imagine what others think of me. Wandering around after class through town, talking to her out loud. When I think of something to tell her in my head, the response that she gives me is almost automatic. Even too quick for me to formulate one. Maybe I just don't give my mind, and imagination, enough credit, but when I think of her response, I believe it is actually what she would say if she were here. But she's not. All I have now is a memory of her. I think only someone who has experienced this type of loss can understand the depth of this torment. I don't actively choose to write these things, and don't want to be miserable. When I first met her, she was all I could think about. I was absolutely captivated, and I think the level of my love for her is only equaled in intensity by the depth of my pain. It is a cruel dichotomy to have to deal with everyday.

I dream you're by my side
I dream my pain is no more doubling
and troubling
I dream i can climb inside your mind
and spend some time
and mold you into what I need
and hug and hold you
I know I cant do this....
I dream of you all the time
Yes I do
Only to wake and wish I was
Sleeping still.
Sometimes while I do my best
Its still not good enough
And I wait for the hour
When we are together again.

Just sitting around, got some dinner at Los Milagros and said hi to my friends. Listening to Amos Lee. A great, soulful singer/songwriter. Here are some of my favorites. Nothing more tonight, I am too tired.

I don't think I will ever forget what it felt like to find out what happened to her by reading something on her Facebook page.  Someone had posted, "please pray for missy,  she is in the ICU after an accident in SF."  How was I supposed to react to that?  She was supposed to call me when she was on her way back from San Francisco.  I remember being confused as to why I hadn't heard from her, but just figured she was in traffic coming home, or running late, or busy with something.  Reading those words put me into an absolute state of terror. My body ceased to function and I collapsed to the ground in a hysteric mix of gutteral cries and failed attempts to bring oxygen into my lungs. From that moment on my life has been in disarray.  
There are moments that I remember very clearly and others that seem like an absolute blur. Driving up to San Francisco, with Mika and Charlie, is an example of everything during that time being quite clear.  We were able to focus on those next 6 hours and solely on heading north.  Nothing else mattered at that point, only getting to her. We even remarked that she would be in the car with us doing the same thing. There was no doubt in our mind that she would have jumped in the car and done exactly what we were doing.   For many illogical reasons, many people told us not to go, but nothing was stopping me from going to her. Nothing. I would have gone to the farthest corner of the globe for her, a little 6 hour drive was not going to stop me. The drive was not entirely somber either, we found ourselves laughing and listening to music.  We spent time focusing on the task at hand.  Simply getting to San Francisco.  When it became real though, too real, was when we drove into the city and passed St. Lukes Hospital. That was when I had my second break down.

So I went out with a girl last night, who probably spoke less english than I do spanish.  It was quite the evening.   Fun, actually.  We spoke for several hours, and most of the time we got by quite nicely, and only a few times were we downright confused.  It was a lovely way to get my mind off of things. We met in the Jardin, and walked to St. Augustin for churros and coffee.  She had a cafe espanol and I had a cappucino.  It really was the first time I had to speak with someone for an extended period of time that did not speak english fluently.  I was pleasantly surprised with my spanish, and my handle on the preterito indefindo and preterito imperfecto.  After, we came back to my home and sat in the garden and talked for another few hours, after which I got her a cab home.  As for my plans tonight, I am off to see a jazz band play at the bar Limerick.  

Open Letter to Wells Fargo

I hate you.  So when a charge to my account for 120 dollars is fraudulent you decide to accept my claim but don't tell me until after that you will have to cancel my card and send me a new one.  That would be great but I AM IN ANOTHER COUNTRY and have NO OTHER ACCESS TO DINERO.   And to the woman helping me on the phone, who knew my whereabouts, I say to you this, thank you.  For being so kind and understanding. That was fabulous how you kept that secret until the very end of our relationship.  I could just see you sitting there in your little cubicle giggling to yourself as you withheld this information.  You are a covert angel of frustration, and for that I thank you.  And thank you for thanking me for doing business with Wells Fargo.  That was a nice touch.  With that, I am off to burn my debit card, as it is no use to me anymore.  I will take joy in watching the card shrivel up and disperse into nothingness.

This past weekend was really tough for me, for one reason or another.  Going to class this morning was great, and was quite lovely to get my mind into a different place for a few hours.  I think the rest of my day will be spent reading, writing a bit, and finishing up some work for class.  The next book I will read is Siddhartha, the allegorical novel written by Herman Hesse.  I just started it last night, and should be able to finish it rather quickly.  As for The Invention of Morel, I think everyone should go out and buy it.  And read it.  And then tell me what you think.  I am glad I have the ability to hear things btw, because I listen to so much freakin music I would be pretty sad if I couldn't.  

My top Songs played in Itunes:

1. Dreamgirl, Dave Matthews Band

2. #40, Dave Matthews Band

3. Strange and Beautiful, Aqualung

4. City Dreamer, the Go Find

5. Peaches and Cream, The John Butler Trio

I haven't decided when I am coming home just yet. I am torn between two thoughts. One is to stay here and take this opportunity to the fullest and completely inundate myself into the culture and everything this place has to offer. I am told of the therapeutic qualities this town has to offer, from therapy to art classes, to yoga..etc. However, I am pretty depressed and refuse to take any medication so the other idea I have is to just come home. I miss home. I miss the familiarity of friends and family and the things that I know to be true.  The familiar can be a crutch.  From the moment I found out what happened to her, from driving to San Francisco, checking in and out of hotels, wandering the city of SF, coming back down to SB and moving back to La, to 58 days of her in 3 different hospitals, to sitting with her everyday and talking to her and holding her hand and painting her nails, to her death, to the week leading up to her funeral.  To watching the casket lowered into the ground and then covered with dirt. All of it all continues on and created such a complex quandary in my mind.  The familiar creates the illusion that everything is alright.  The familiar gives you the comfort in knowing that there are some things in life that are still safe.   If i decide to come home, it would be in the next month or so. If not, I may be down here for quite some time. 

I keep making the same mistakes and it hurts so much.  Sometimes my wretched state of pain, pressure, and guilt are simply too much to bear.  I just wish it would all go away.  I have been told of the therapeutic and healing aspects of San Miguel, but I fear there will be no remedy for this sorrowful state of mind I find myself entangled in.  I embrace many options and ideas, but am too tired of it all.  It just needs to stop.  I need to stop thinking of whether or not she was conscious at all as she drowned.  I hope that the seizure she had was long enough to keep her from knowing what was happening.  I pray to any god that will listen for that to be true.  I need to stop watching videos of people having epileptic seizures.  It is torturous thing to do to myself .   I don't even want to begin to analyze it.  I feel so much different today.  I try and remember what it felt like when we were living in Santa Barbara, and I can force my mind and body to recall the way it felt.  It is so foreign to me now.  

I miss her so much right now it is impossible to convey the feelings that are overtaking my body.  This photo that I am posting here does it to me every time.  Every single day I look at this photo and cry.  It just pierces me into a state of agony.  I can only look at it for a few seconds before I have to close it.  Her death still does not seem real to me.  I sat and held her hand and kissed her after she died yet I still don't have the capacity to fully comprehend that she is dead.   I don't know if it will make things easier or more difficult once I am able to accept it.  She said something to me in one of my dreams about ghosts, and I have been reading a book that she read for one of her film classess in school.  The Invention of Morel.  Besides enjoying it because I kept coming across her notations and doodles after each page, I read the last 30 pages of the book, in which there is considerable discussion of ghosts, death, and lost love.  The inability to coexist physically with someone you love.  The book is about so much more, and truly a fabulous work.  I cried as I read a few passages though.  What she said to me in a few of my dreams was almost taken verbatim from some of the passages in the book.  However when I dreamt of her telling me these things I had not yet read the words in the text. It was only days later that my eyes crossed those words on the page.  One of the passages that she underlined, with a heart in the margin is, "how can I keep on living in the torment of seeming to be with Faustine when she is really so far away?  Where can i find her?" Faustine is his love, yet she exists on an entirely different plane.  There were countless things that made me think of her, and a few very specific words that I read and realized that she had already said them to me in my dreams.  The book ends with this: "To the person who reads this diary and then invents a machine that can assemble disjoined presences, I make this request: Find Faustine and me, let me enter the heaven of her consciousness.  It will be an act of piety."

I believe in love
But believe it's my heart that keeps turning me down
I believe in love
I think it's just fine
Up and down, inside out
Outside in some you lose some
You win for us all
Up and down we go
Bad times choke us all once or twice
I believe in love
But think nothing about it when you're not around
I believe in love
I think you're just fine
The sweet up and down...
dm4mp

I noticed last night, while I was out in town, that it felt odd to smile.  The muscles in my face felt foreign to me.  Now, I am not saying that I haven't smiled at all, from July 29th till now, but that when I went to use the muscles to form a smile that it felt strange.  I guess it just has to do with my new found ability to not move.  I have notcied that the majority of the time I am very laconic.  Sometimes there is nothing to be said in a conversation about the weather.  Yes, I get it, it is cold this morning.  Perhaps you thought that I had an inability to feel elements such as wind and rain or did you just want clarification from me that it is indeed cold and that you aren't in fact crazy.   I mean, how many times can people speak about the same things.  I guess it is our inherent need for agreement or disagreement.  It is impossible for some to simply sit and listen. Silence is definitely not golden in the society of men.   I have noticed instances that the same conversation between several people has occured multiple times over the course of several weeks.  Is it that they simply need affirmation that they are alive and breathing and still have the ability to speak? Perhaps I am dead, for there are times when I feel so removed from social settings and situations that I am invisible.  Not in the way that I feel inferior or that no one notices me because of a lack of presence, but because I lack the presence to engage in meaningless words.  I enjoy sitting and listening and most times the conversation does not provide me an opportunity to say anything, at least not anything meaningful.  I try and keep my words clear and with purpose.  

A few more photos.

At MacArthur Park you can buy "chispas", and here you can buy baskets and baloons.

J J J JEW UNIT!!! 

Today was pretty rough.  I thought I had moved past the stage of anger and into something completely different, but all of the anger I had inside of me prior to her death, and after still resides inside of me.  Some of it is directed towards her, but she apologized to me in my dreams a few times so I have forgiven her.  I would love to believe that she is meeting me there, and knew that something had happened and that she made a mistake that caused plenty of people pain but perhaps she doesn't know what exactly she did.  She kept apologizing, and crying, but she didn't know why she was sorry, only that she was.  I wasn't able to stay in class this morning, my mind wasn't focused on spanish, and I had to remove myself from class and come back home.  It is hard sometimes to get myself out of my meliss mode and into another.  I hope the rest of my classmates, and everyone else I have met in the academia don't find me too disinterested and aloof.  I just don't want to bring it up to anyone to explain why  I may be particularly quiet.  I am so tired today, I think I may go home and take some pills to help me fall asleep.  Sometimes I sleep for so long and wake up even more tired than when I passed out and other times I just lay in bed for hours thinking about how different life would be if not for one small decision.

So each day that I am here I try to come and sit in the Jardin at one point or another. I am writing this as I sit in the Jardin right now, as wi-fi is available throughout the city.  So when I lived in Santa Barbara, I lived on Garden St., so we chose Jardin as the name of the wifi we had, and now I sit in the Jardin and have wireless, which I find to be slightly interesting. I typically come here when I am done with class, and admire the relaxed state that fixates this town. Before I sit however, I get my daily cup of horchata and enjoy a delicado. The horchata is ridiculously good but you have you make sure to drink it with a straw because you never know if there is a dead bee floating around somewhere in your cup. The container that the horchata is held in is a haven for bees, due to the sweet nature of the drink. I guess it reminds them of home.  Not too much reminds me of home here, this is quite different than anywhere I have lived.  I guess the biggest similarity between here and Santa Barbara is the amount of Mexicans present.  

 I made a small playlist of the music that I am currently listening to now, so check it out.

Yes, I am checking in here at my blog at 4:30 am. The art gallery event was very cool, as was the african dance and music show afterwards. Nothing like seeing a 6'5 african man speaking spanish. I have nothing to say other than that I am all for avocados, chocolate, and mayonnaise. And that I may or may not have just arrived back home.

I have realized how taxing it is, on my mind and body, to be in one constant thought about her. When I met her she was the first thing that came to mind when I awoke, and the last thing I would think about before I fell asleep. Not much has changed, in that regard, but now my entire day is also spent with a total focus on everything having to do with her. I recall random instances of our life together, or I think about what she would say, if I could tell her about what I was doing or what crazy person I saw walking the street. I walk through the city, or I sit in class, and I imagine the exact tone and words that would come from her mouth. That takes a lot of energy, to be in one constant stream of thoughts. I am able to understand why I am always so tired though. And it is just part of this process. I don't even wish there were an easier way. The only way I was able to go out tonight was to not think about her. I hate writing that, but it is truth.

My Apprenticeship

The real reason why I am here. My apprenticeship under this guy. [see above.]

That would be me. Such a g.

There is artwork throughout the city for la dia de los muertos. 

Rooftop view of La Parroquia from a restaurant in the Jardin.

View from a tiny bridge overlooking a street out of town. Off of Calle Umaran.

On this, the day of the dead, I have decided againt making an altar in remembrance and celebration of Meliss. It is just too hard for me to say that she is dead. I bought a simple candle that I will light, and will set her photo next to it this evening before I go to sleep. The cultural aspect of this day is very unique and pretty damn cool. All of the decorations and festivities, from the elaborate altars to the sugar skulls, makes it very clear that the Mexican way of remembrance is not one of sadness but of pure joy. Everyone is celebrating the life of those loved ones who have past. And when I say celebrating I mean CELEBRATING. It is not something that can be easily described, you just have to experience it to understand the fullness of this day. I celebrate her life constantly though, in my mind, with my dreams and memories. They are a constant reminder of how wonderful she was and that is enough for now. Besides, she isn't dead, she is just living through me now.

I find all these smiling faces,
Locked up and tired,
Oh, the rhythm of an old song I heard,
Wild and the freedom sail away,
Again memories fall,
Hey, we feel so cold,
I really thought it was a cool winter day,
I say this one time,
I want anyone to pour their soul into an open page,
Crushed by a memory,
So my happiness fell away,
And torn my mind,
And Darkness fell.

Melissa tried so hard to remove herself from people and from situations that could potentially harm her.  It makes me so angry to know how much she cared about protecting herself from those things.  It's hard for me to be angry at her, but there are definitely times when I am.  The choice she made has hurt so many people.  She had such a great support group in Santa Barbara that when she moved home, things just started to spin out of control.  Between the amount of seizures she had leading up to the one she had on the 29th of July, to going out with new people that were unaware of her epilepsy, to trusting someone to be family when they were never family, and never will be.  That is what gets me the most.  That someone who was dealing with their own problems decided to include Melissa into their own destructive behavior.  I understand that Meliss was an adult, and made her own decisions but I can't imagine ANY of her friends putting her into the situation.  Melissa spent a few years making sure she was not put into that situation.  How could she imagine that her "family" would have been the one to do it.  It is just not fathomable.  It drives me out of my mind to think about how easily it could have been avoided if not for one obtuse and absolutely ignorant human being.  This is where my mind comes to an impasse.  If something could have been so easily avoided, then how is it in the greater plan of a higher power?  I get lost going around and around in my head deciphering the characteristics of the word meaningless, hoping to figure out whether or not this was in fact part of a greater plan, and that her "time" here on Earth was done, or whether or not her time was not done and if not for one person, she would still be here.  I do know that she was my angel before her death, so the idea that she is one now is not very difficult to accept.  I told her she was my angel from the moment I met her.  It is just so hard to find any meaning in this madness that is my mind.

I would like to take some time to discuss one of my favorite movies of all time, the African Queen.  Starring Humphrey Bogart and Katharine Hepburn, directed by  Jon Huston.  The man who also brought us Key Largo, the Treasure of Sierra Madre, and the Maltese Falcon.  All of which starred Bogart, however I find that the African Queen could quite possibly be the best of them all.  The artistry between Bogart and Hepburn, coinciding with the absolute impeccable direction from Huston provides us with classic themes of cinema, exploring both love and war.  I mean, how is it possible for one man to direct all of these films.  Are you kidding me?  Huston directed some of the most important american films ever.   As for the African Queen, you really cannot go wrong with Bogart and Hepburn.  I like how Bogart is reduced to this dirty, crude captain of a ship, something that we didn't see very often in any of his films.  On top of the connection between the two main characters, and watching them go from loathing one another to a gradual love, the Film was shot on location in Uganda and the Congo.   This was 1952, and to imagine how difficult it must have been to shoot on location during that time, let alone create such a masterpiece, is simply unfathomable.  If you haven't seen it in a while, or simply have not seen it at all, I implore you sit and watch this film.  When it is over, you will want to start the DVD over and watch it again.

El Dia de Los Muertos is right around the corner, and even though today is Halloween, or "Dia de Las Brujas," here in Mexico, everyone is preparing for the 2nd of November. I can already tell that it is quite the celebration and I'm looking forward to this experience.  I haven't decided whether or not I will create an altar, I just don't know. I leave you with the elements of a traditional altar, should you decide to create one.  Courtesy of La Atencion.  

• A photo of the deceased being honored to invite a visitation on Nov. 2nd.
• A small cross made of ash wood to release the soul from purgatory if it is there.
• A large cross made of ash wood so the soul can expiate its guilt.
• Purple flowers and papel picado, which represent mourning.
• Sugar skulls, representing death, which is always present.
• Four candles forming a cross represent the four cardinal points, so that the soul can find its way home.
• Water so the soul can drink after its long journey.
• Copal cleanses the site of evil spirits so the soul can return home safely.
• Food satisfies the soul so that it will return again.
• Margiolds lead the soul to the altar and symbolize the continuity of life.
• Salt represents the basic elements to which we all return some day.
• Candles light the soul's way home.
• Blankets protect the soul from the cold.

I left out one element of the altar, and that is tequila, so that the soul can remember the good times however if I decide to make an altar I am leaving out the alcohol.  The soul can remember good times another way.

I wrote about a dream I had, one that was so real in my mind that when I awoke it seemed to be as real as anything else I had experienced in my life. I had yet another dream last night, however this one was a bit different. I walked down the steps of Melissa's house and into the kitchen, where Meliss was standing with her back turned to me, on the phone. I walked up to her and I heard her say "I have to go." I gave her a hug while she was turned away from me, and as she turned I noticed that she was crying. She turned to me and said "al, im so sorry." We hugged and held each other tightly and cried for what seemed like eternity, and she kept repeating to me "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry." When I asked her why, she said "i don't know, I am just so sorry." The last thing I can remember her saying to me was, "I am the wrong ghost in your dreams." I woke up in the middle of the night, and noticed that my cheeks were wet and pillow soaked with tears.

If She Wants Me

I wrote a letter on a nothing day,
I asked somebody, “Could you send my letter away?”
“You are too young to put all of your hopes in just one envelope”
I said goodbye to someone that I love

It’s not just me, I tell you it’s the both of us
And it was hard
Like coming off the pills that you take to stay happy
Someone above has seen me do all right
Someone above is looking with a tender eye
Upon her face, you may think you’re alone but you may think again

If I could do just one near perfect thing I’d be happy
They’d write it on my grave, or when they scattered
my ashes,
On second thoughts I’d rather hang around and be there with my best friend
If she wants me...

And far away somebody read the letter
He condescends to read the words I wrote about him
And if he smiles, it’s no more than a genius deserves
For all his curious nerve and his passion

I’m going deaf, you’re growing melancholy
Things fall apart, I don’t know why we bother at all
But life is good and it’s always worth living
At least for a while

If I could do just one near perfect thing I’d be happy
They’d write it on my grave, or when they scattered
my ashes,
On second thoughts I’d rather hang around and be there with my best friend
If she wants me...
If you think to yourself, “What should I do now?”
Then take the baton, girl, you better run with it
There is no point in standing in the past
Because it’s over and done with

I took a book and went into the forest
I climbed the hill, I wanted to look down on you
But all I saw was twenty miles of wilderness
So I went home...




I absolutely love this song...I think about the lyrics, "on second thought I'd rather hang around and be there with my best friend if she wants me," quite a bit. Sacrificing the chance at greatness for the chance to hang out with your best friend...

I had the most magnificent dream last night, and although I normally do not recall too many of the specifics of my nighttime adventures this one is vivid and simply brilliant in my mind.  It is as if it was not a dream at all but a slightly altered state of reality.  It obviously did not occur in the reality that we live in currently, or at least believe we live in, but the time that I spent with her during this dream was as real to me when I awoke than any afternoon spent with her.  However, is it possible that dreams are in fact as real as the world in which we live?  Salvador Dali wrote that, "One day it will have to be officially admitted that what we have christened reality is an even greater illusion than the world of dreams."  Perhaps the world of dreams is decidedly more real than this illusion of reality.  I'd like to believe that to be true, for every time I dream of  her,  as I did last night, I can tell myself that it was just as true as the physical time spent with her the last three years.   It was just so pure and true to the life we had together.  And it was indeed her, not some shadowy figure labeled in my mind as "melissa."   It was my joyful girl, the same one who said she'd love me forever and said to me that it was necessary for her to fall asleep every night in my arms.  The same joyful girl that walked with her shoulders hunched as high as can be when she was cold, and kept reese's peanut butter cups in her backpack for when she was hungry.  No, she may not be able to fall asleep in my arms, at least not for now, but now when I go to sleep I am able to visit a different plane of existence with her, one that puts a smile on my face when I wake.  

 

With that, I am going to take a nap.

Her Beauty in a Wicked World

I absolutely hate looking on facebook and seeing how some of her "friends," are just so happy and caught up in their own tiny, unimportant little world.  Friends that came to visit her in the hospital on their way to vegas.  Yes.  They stopped by to see her as they were on their way to las vegas.  She was in a hospital bed, in a coma and they came in on their way to vegas.  I just don't understand how some people are so void of decency.  Decency that makes one human.   How are they able to go out and celebrate and have fun after the past three months.  As if she were still alive.  I just think that as much as the whole "she would want you to have fun, and have a life, and move on" rhetoric  is thrown out it is really impossible to do without spending time dealing with, and comprehending the fact that she is gone.  I mean, I still call her phone a few times a day just so I can hear her voice.  I still leave her messages.   The gall of some of her supposed friends, the utter disregard for her.  

My afternoon basking in the hot mexican sun. 

heavy on my mind

Everybody asks me how I'm doing, since she went away...

I say I couldn't tell you I'm ok....I'm ok....

Surprise Surprise.....

I don't know, how are you???

-------

When I asked when I would talk to her next she said to me, "al, please don't make this harder...you know i love you....i'll talk to you when I think I wont cry."   She then gave me the look she always did when she was trying her hardest to hold something in and stay strong and proceeded to walk back inside her house.  I left that day, and for the next week had the worst anxiety I had ever experienced in my life.

I never heard from her....

In my moments of clarity, when looking at the entire chain of events from the time we met to the moment of her death, it occurs to me that she was protecting me.  Perhaps there was some supernatural element to her during that time. 

But then I think that it just sounds too ridiculous to say something like that, and that none of it was meant to happen, and it was just a cruel part of this world.  I have no idea. 

I struggle with these thoughts daily, and hope to one day understand the meaning in all of this. I actually hope to find any meaning whatsoever.  For now, nothing makes sense, and it is all one big mess inside of my mind.....

Come in from the rain for a while.
Everything will be ok
Come in from the pain for a time.
Everything will be ok.
Everything will be ok.
For now,
goodbye,
Friend,
goodbye.

Dear Meliss

This hurts so much.

I miss the way you would hold my hand, in a very specific way.

I miss watching you cross the street, from my window, after you left to go to school and both of us knowing that we would look to each other and wave.

I miss your laugh and the way the pitch would increase.

I miss meeting you at the transit, so we could get lunch.

I miss everything.

I am so sorry.

I love you.

al

I have thought quite a bit lately about Melissa's place in my life and the purpose for the time we had together. I distinctly remember telling her weeks after we met, as we talked on the phone, that I found it hard to believe that our interaction that first night we met was by chance. I told her countless times, during the initial stages of our friendship that I did not know what it was, but that we were meant to meet and to be together. The way we came together was not accidental at all. Both of us missing our train in the afternoon, only to take a later train that night. She was asked to move out of business class and into a different car, for she had only purchased a seat in coach. The fact that I remember the train just being absolutely packed with people. The night before school starts, each and every quarter for ucsb, that surfliner train is always chock full of students. I would always put a notebook and a pen on the seat next to me, as if to indicate that someone was sitting there, as not to be bothered. She sat down right behind me, and I have no idea why I decided to look back and see who it was, as I never cared about who was on the train. It was always a brisk and uneventful trip for me. But I did look back, and from that point on I was smitten with everything and anything having to do with her. It is so difficult to look back on myself saying to her that I did not know why we met, but that there was in fact a reason and that the chain of events that led us together was in fact a gift from a higher power without knowing that this was how it would all end. Is it possible that it is in fact her death that is the gift that she has given me and that is the reason why we met and spent those years together? I honestly have no clue right now, or maybe I am just not ready to accept something such as that, or put my faith in the hands of a greater power that would have led me to this point, and through this pain. I have always had a difficult time putting faith into religion, whether or not it be because no single thing has ever led to the death of more innocent people than religion, or for the fact that I find it hard to believe that I should follow something that was written over and over again, in a way to control the masses. In the past I have always thought of myself as more spiritual than religious, however, I think those thoughts were just my idea of creating a perception of myself for others, because now, in this time of need I am not receptive to religion or to any form of spirituality.

If Gil can steal it, so can I

I know this is random, but I just want to clear this up for people out there. There are these things called shark attacks, but in fact, there is no such thing as a shark attack.  Just hear me out and you'll realize that no one has ever witnessed a real shark attack or been victim to one.
I know you're making a weird face as you're reading this.  A shark attack is not what we see on TV and what people portray it as.

We're humans. We live on land.

Sharks live in water.

So if you're swimming in the water and a shark bites you, that's called trespassing. That is not a shark attack. A shark attack is if you're chilling at home, sitting on your couch, and a shark comes in and bites you; now that's a shark attack.   If you're chilling in the water and swimmin' around, that is called invasion of space. So I have never heard of a shark attack.

When I see on the news where it's like, "There have been 10 shark attacks," I'm like, "Hey, for real?! They're just running around? Sharks are walking now, huh!?...We live on the land, we don't live underwater."

--- courtesy of a few 

I drink you up
For every drop of you is sacred
Every drop I drink you up
You fill my cup
The way you laugh
Eyes of a angel
Lean on me, you fill me up
You make me love
So unconditionally generous
To me you give me love
And break my heart
Slip, you fall, I pick you up and dust you off
You break my heart
Take all you want
For what is mine is yours
No better use is there for what I've got
Take all you want
And only hope can I, you won't deny
Your love for me, my love
No, don't cry, if it's too high
I lift you up, we'll make it, make it
When I was oh so tired
You come along to wake me, wake me
Time and time, again and again
With a smile you save me...

dm

I've decided to take this year off from watching or paying attention to the Lakers. I have no desire whatsoever to follow them. I have watched religiously for the past 11 years or so and just think it is time for me to not invest anything into that team. I have already given up television, and I am pretty sure that the last time I watched t.v. was sometimes this past June. There is an obvious reason as to why I havent watched tv in such a long time. For one, every show that I would potentially watch would instantly remind me of her, and the last thing I need is to be reminded even more of the fact that she died. I am already bombarded with daily reminders. I have taken quite a liking to this sobriety. Boredom could be a side effect of not watching television, however it is neither crippling or permanent. I definitely don't find myself bored, as I have actually realized that I do in fact know how to read, and picked up books to prove that point. It's not that I don't have the time for sports, or television but the idea of being entertained that irks me. I am not in the mood to be entertained by athletes making millions of dollars or actors being told what to say, and when to say it. I'm sure I will make my way back down the path to that special glow of the television, as it does have a magnetic power. Just not for now.

Here are a few photos I took today while meandering through the town. If you are still using dial up, and a little behind on this here "internet" you can click on the photo for a larger size.

Walking by a river I
Reach my hands to cup the sky
Run down my arms
A bitter blue
Turn to red and
The gashes grew
The river taste me I am
So much less then I have ever been
Take this my arms
Take this my eyes
That this my mouth and all this
Seems to be completely true
Liars and witches
Liars and witches
Then I leave you there crying
Liars and witches
Still many say we are open wide
But no
Liars and witches
Take and leave then we are leaving
Liars and witches
No choice but to kill one and save the other
It's ok, it's alright
Take this my arms
Take this my eyes
That this my mouth and all this
Seems to be completely true....

In case you missed the post from a while ago in which I provided a link to this, I decided I would put the video up again. What hurts, is that when I watch it, it seems like so long ago even though it's really not. It's hard to deal with the pain with losing her everywhere go, and I just wish we could still be together in sb. Before she died, we would watch this and poke fun at her for her phenomenal vocals, which she could have cared less about, as evidenced by the video.... but now I just cry when I watch it.

Had to give some love to Julie London...such a fantastic song. Check it out.

my new alarm clock : Fireworks.

So this is me at 7am watching the fireworks that had just woken me up. Anywhere else in the world,  and it would have been followed with quite a bit of yelling and would have eventually ended in fisticuffs.....but not here. This is a different sort of place. I said, "ok, i guess its time to get up, let me get some coffee and watch the show."

This is one of my favorite photos.  It was taken when we were practically living together at her sorority one summer.  I commuted back and forth from SB to work at Warner Bros., for her, and so that I could have moments such as the one in the photo.  Her smile is why I love this pictures so much.  

Stage 2 - Tour de Ali

1,2,3,4 tell me that you love me more....(such a good song, and its been in my head all day)....anyways....I have finally arrived, after waking up at 5 am eastern time, getting a free cab ride to the airport, waiting while my flight was delayed to houston, sitting in the houston airport for an hour, and then finally catching my flight to León. After that was an hour drive into SM. I can already tell why people come here to relax and remove themselves from the rest of the world. Just walking through the center of town on a saturday evening you see why this town is such a gem. Whether it be the music that is constantly being played, the families walking through the Jardin, or the great food that is everywhere, I am definitely excited to have finally arrived.  For the second time in 3 weeks, I cried as the plane took off.  I think that it is the physical act of moving and doing something that has been so difficult.  Many times I just want to sit and do nothing.  I don't know if it makes me feel closer to her, as absurd as that sounds but I guess it is that when I sit and do nothing I am so much more depressed, which in turn keeps me in the moment of her death.  Staying in that moment makes me feel closer to her, at least for now.  I don't know if that makes any sense at all.  I am trying so hard to not let this completely crush me but it is so hard.  The reality that I will never see her again, or hear her voice, or see her face is pretty much impossible to deal with.  It  is impossible to understand the finality of death until someone you love, someone who was your best friend is taken away.  The bombardment of death that we face in today's society, through media and television etc. can easily make people numb to the topic.  I spoke with a friend recently, mainly about the grieving process and he started to discuss what he knew, and I realized that he was simply going off what he learned in school, as he called it "intro to psych."  He called it "basic psychology."  That is when I realized that he had absolutely no fucking clue what he was talking about.  I know many people go through what I am dealing with now, but on the same note, I have difficulty with the notion that so many people get through the depth of pain that I feel now.  I fear that it will worsen.  I think this blog entry is a perfect example of my ability to cope right now.  I simply can not take my mind off of her for more than a minute or two during the day.  At night she is all I think about but during the day I will be doing just fine and out of nowhere I will just break down and 10 minutes later my shirt will be drenched with my tears.  I say that I fear that it will worsen because I am still in the state of disbelief.  I am still not accepting that she died.  I don't know if that will help me, once I am able to accept that, or make it worse.  For now, I am here in San Miguel, trying to make the best of my opportunity and balance the seemingly impossible  task of moving on in a world that she is not a part of anymore.

at JFK

Just sitting here waiting to board my plane to san Miguel. I don't know if I'm finally realizing and attempting to comprehend what happened or if I'm sad because I'm leaving NY but I'm an definitely super emotional right now. I hate seeing other people holding hands with someone else or sitting and laughing. Being in NY was great and it was so nice to have some time with my brother, something that we haven't had in quite a while. It was also difficult though, because Melissa and I had talked about me coming out here for her bday while she was gonna be here for a wedding. Just the thought that I could have been here 2 months ago with her leads my mind into a rapid progression of thoughts which ultimately makes me upset and crying. On a side note, my flight was just delayed an hour and I'm watching someone hit their 4 year old child and treat this adorable child like he were a dog.

Of all the people I have come across in my life, and of everyone that has ever mattered to me, how is it possible that this happened to her? Not that I would wish this upon anyone, but why her? I don't know if people understand when I say that I would rather it be me than her. I would have rather me gone through the trauma for those 58 days if it meant that she would be alright.

It is beyond missing her. It is hard to explain, but it just hurts so much when my brain and body allow me to realize the severity of the situation.

So upon reading the stages of grief and mourning right now I see that I am still in the first stage. "Shock is the first stage of numbness, disbelief and unreality." Her accident was on the 29th of July and she died on September 23rd. According to this website, I have another seven stages to go through.

----

Share the time again
I spend with you
A friend is always good to have
But a lover's kiss is better than angels raining down on me
I dream of you at times when your by my side
Dream you're not just like you are
So troubled and doubling my pain
Just one more tear
I shed for you
I wish that I could climb inside your mind
And spend some time and hug and hold you
And mold you into what I'd like
But I know I can't do this
Just a kiss to spend a while by you
And your familiar smile and voice
I lay awake
Then you lean back and smiling
On you
Most everything I do for you, I say
And the while let's make our way
And feel warm
In the middle of this storm with you
Like an angel
Oh, what friends say is good is right
I say
When you were again
And you were my friend
Before this
This one
Say yes I do
And with you
Sometimes
But while I do my best
With all the rest I leave to you
Can't wait for the hour
And when two things become this
All this trouble from a kiss from you, I'll do it
And then you come up smiling
And I'm thrown
Into I get a little storm with you, I'll do it
Always
Lover, line up and yeah
The road to you is long and I've been on it for a while
And a need a warm embrace
I'll take a break
And say I want to leave you awake
Always

I feel tired...

dm

I have spent a lot of time listening to music that she loved, many songs that were in a constant rotation in the car or the apartment.  I made a playlist of some of her favorite songs. She called me one night, and asked me to come pick her up in IV. This is when we were first starting to hang out and really spend time together. She ended up staying downtown for the night, and I have to say that it would have never happened if not for the Go Find. Well, maybe it would have.  Actually, yes, it would have.  But the Go Find helped...


SeeqPod Music beta - Playable Search

everything comes in waves for me right now.  I will be fine all day long and then when I try and go to sleep, something overcomes my body and sometimes it is just so difficult. It surfaces in such painful ways.  I hate that there are things about her that I can't think of, and I struggle to remember everything about her.  There are some things that I can't remember.  It has almost been three months since her accident.  I remember the last time I spoke to her.  It was only for a few minutes, and she said she would call me when she got back from San Francisco. Seeing her have the seizure in the car, shortly before her accident, and hearing her tell me that she loved me.  Kissing her and holding her after she stopped seizing.  Hearing her say to me "don't make this any harder al, you know I love you."  Everything she said to me in that 45 minutes was exactly how she felt about me.  It was so pure. It was as if everything was already in motion, which neither of us could control.  Knowing that she made connections with people that she hadn't talked to in quite a while the day before her accident.  Hearing her tell me those things after we had gotten into arguments in the days before. I am just so confused about everything.  I still can't deal with any of this.  I can't believe it has almost been 3 months since she was found on the floor in the bathroom in SF.  All I know is that I love her.  I did when we met and it is still true today.