Wanted: Circus Performers

“Just when I’d stopped, opening doors

Finally knowing the one that I’d wanted was yours

Making my entrance again, with my usual flair,

Sure of my lines, no one is there.

Don’t you love farce? My fault I fear.

I thought that you’d want what I want

Sorry my dear

But where are the clowns?

Send in the clowns…

Don’t bother, they’re here.”

Today marks a good day. A good day, tentatively.

You must understand, this shouldn’t be a good day. I shouldn’t look at this day and think, “Now that’s a good day,” because this day really isn’t all that great, but considering the recent days, this day is actually good. Perspective changes all things, even good and bad.

Today I did a good job at work. I generally do that. But today it felt really great to be definitely good at something. I love that.

Today I went to the Social Security Administration and I was given every confidence that I am going to get what I want: Disability for my father. Coverage: medical and financial. And above all of that that I would retain control. I would be responsible for his finances, so he can’t whittle away his SSDI checks on things like alcohol and drugs. I can get him into a good apartment, even after he is out of the hospital, and the nursing facility. I can give him petty cash. I can make sure that everything is taken care of. Because I will have complete control, I will know that he is safe… that if his life goes wrong from here it is by no fault but his own.

Here’s the clincher. I will be financially responsible for my father… for the rest of his life.

I no longer know if I am strong enough for this. Perspective changes all things, even strength and weakness.

Saturday, Virgil got married. I still don’t want to marry him – even when I cried when he was happy with another woman. Bryce went to the wedding with me. I still don’t want to date him – even when I cried when he told me he wanted to be happy with another woman. I guess perspective doesn’t change everything.

I still want what I’ve always wanted. I want to fly away and find new worlds, and meet new people and build new bridges. I still want world peace. I still want my very own adventure that has nothing to do with taking care of people. Perspective has changed my time, my color, my life… but most certainly not my hope. And not my dreams.

So send in the clowns, because I plan to make a circus of this present graveyard.

Come with me… let’s be carnies.

Hospitals, Gay-dars, and Friends

Well so so much has happened, so I am going to start in the middle and work out. I think that is the only healthy path.

Dad's surgery went well, but oh it was SO long. I was there for almost 17 hours. But we made it through and dad is in the ICU getting lots of rest. Now we wait to find out how recovery goes and if the cancer has spread. We pray that he can give up cigarettes completely and never drink again. We wish that we knew how to make things move faster with the State for funding. We worry that no matter how much we do it still won't be enough.

The day of the surgery was, for me, a very new experience. Peter and I went in with dad at first and all was fine. It still didn't register that that would be the last I would hear of his voice. I didn't get that until after the surgery. I knew it in my head, but hadn't accepted it. Bryce showed up around 9 and we played cribbage and other games for hours. Katie V. showed up with lunch around noon, and I loved her company. Russ and Tirell showed up around 3 and kept Peter company. Auntie Jeanette came around 3 and played more games with Bryce and I.

Bryce is a friend of mine, but never have I had a person so support me on such a hard day. He was there for me. and just me. That was weird. And amazing. And if his mother ever had a chance to read this I would tell her that she raised one of the finest men I've met. He stayed with me the whole day, drove me home, let me cry, let me nearly pass out, kept me from passing out, and even let me sleep. Seriously. I have been blessed with some awesome friends.

Last week, I yanked a gay man out of the closet. Now I dated this gay man about a year ago. I didn't know he was gay. He did not alert my gay-dar in the slightest. I just couldn't make chemistry happen so I stopped dating him. As the next few months passed, I just didn't get it. Then it hit me one night, and I couldn't let it rest. All this year I have been hinting, trying to get him to admit it to me, while simultaneously avoiding any other dates he asked me on. This time I couldn't avoid him any longer. I told him I wouldn't go on a date, but we could have dinner as friends. I didn't intend to yell at him. I didn't intend to talk about his sexuality, but he brought up gay men and something in me snapped. In the middle of my favorite bar, I went off! on him. I yelled about how people should not lie about their sexual orientation, how people should not keep things like that a secret. I mean I get it. I understand why you would not want people to know, but really, it is so frustrating. Especially when the guy is just trying to use you as his beard. I am getting angry again. Needless to say, he told me the truth.... he's Bi. Which is not the same as gay. Okay.

I have to go off and sign some more papers, and be with my dad. I hope your week is as productive as mine.

The Cancer

Well my father has cancer. We've been going to appointment after appointment for weeks and weeks now, waiting to find out exactly what that means. Here's what that means:

On June 14th, he will undergo a full laryngectomy, which will remove his larynx, his vocal chords, and the lymph nodes in his throat, as well as reconstruct the way his esophagus and airway function. He will no longer breath through the same hole which he eats through. He will have a stoma in his throat through which he will breath, effectively cutting off his ability to smell, which will then also affect his ability to taste. The worst part is that he will entirely lose his ability to speak. Completely. We will eventually get him a machine that he holds in his hand and puts up to his throat which will create sound waves/vibrations in his throat that he can manipulate to make words, sounding a little like Darth Vader. Until we can afford one of those, he will use a pen and paper. I think I am most sad about this.

After the laryngectomy, he will be in the hospital for 10ish days to recover. From there he will move into a nursing facility to recover, where he will stay throughout the entirety of his radiation treatment. This is the most wonderful news we could have received. I had no idea what I was going to do with him during those three terrible months, but the hospital came through and gave us a social worker who will help. I love the hospital. I literally cried when they told me.

I don't know what will happen after radiation. I do know that he has a 40% chance of surviving the next 5 years. Those are apparently really great odds. They don't look great to me. 40% is failing. I hate failing.

I am surprised by how okay I am. Until this week, it was harder, but now that I know the game plan, I am doing much better. I still have a lot of work to do on his financial aid status, but I am doing okay.

Here's hoping that all of this will end well. And that someday it will actually end.

The arrival

I've been waiting for this day for over a month now. I've tried to bring it on by my own means, to inspire it to appear, but it would not come. I found it today though.

This day is the day the emptiness arrived. All the choices in the last month that should have brought guilt but didn't. All of the moments that should have been frightening but weren't. All of the happiness that was mediocre and unimportant. It all crashed in today.

And I am alone. And that's just fine.

25 and single.

I don't know what crawled into the air this weekend, but the world seemed overly consumed with the fact that I am, have been, and will continue to be 25 and single. I don't know how many times I had the conversation about my current relationship status and why it is the way it is, but I do know that it was way beyond 1 time too many.

This is disconcerting for me, for a few reasons. First and most certainly foremost, I do not believe it to be odd that I am 25 and single. In fact, I find it relatively normal. It's not as if I am closeted away and refusing relationships right and left. I am a very active dater. I just haven't found anyone I would like to love. Is that really all that bizarre?

Second, my father has cancer. Granted, I have only just received this news, but I am not particularly comfortable with starting a relationship when I know that I may not have time for said relationship in the upcoming months, because I am at the hospital fighting for my father's life. Not to mention the emotional instability that accompanies this current familial malady, I am just not the girl who leaps into a serious relationship when my relationship with my father is so serious.

Third, I find that I make a fairly fabulous single woman. I am on it. I know me. I know you. I know this world. I've got this. Granted I fall apart every once in a while, but I am human. Who can blame me?

Lastly, and possibly most importantly there is this guy. We will call him GI Joe. I hate that I am this girl, so keep this one under wraps for me folks (this is hilarious because I know that this is the internet and the internet is even worse at keeping secrets than I am!), but I am kind of secretly falling for this guy in Afghanistan. He comes home in a few months and we will see what it all is then, but I only have the capacity to invest real emotions in one man at a time, and at this particular time I am choosing him. Maybe because he is far away, but mostly I think because he is wonderful. But I could be wrong. I guess we'll all find out later.

I think the thing that bothers me most is when people do 1 of 2 things. Some like to tell me that they are okay with me being single and that it is my choice and even if I am still single at 45 they will still love me and be okay with my life choices. There are only three letters for that and I will give you 1 guess at what they are. I am sorry, but who do you think you are? Seriously, I am single, not diseased. Why is being single at 25 (25! I'm not even old yet?!) a social faux pas? And to insinuate on top of this that I am somehow more alone than I would be if I married... ugh. I am an individual no matter how I relate myself to those around me and in that sense my self will always be my responsibility. I don't get to give away my self care when/if I get married, to some man who will inevitably screw it up, no matter how much I love him.

The second option some men in particular like to take is to tell me that they hope that our relationship is keeping me from seeking something lasting and meaningful with a future husband. I will freely admit that I am a HUGE fan of casual dating. I love it. I love to go out and have fun and forget about all the things that really matter and spend time with some one that, in the long run, just doesn't matter. But then they inevitably have the condescension to tell me that they care about me and are worried because they might be keeping me from forming a real relationship. I want to smack them. As if I need a real relationship, but somehow their relational responsibilities are less than my own, or somehow completed in some different way. I don't even understand this one, but it is completely conceded.

All of this to say, that I am 25 and Single and I am still waiting to understand why that is a bad thing? Especially if I am not unhappy with my current state? Any explanations would be welcome.

Sein oder nicht Sein

To be or not to be... that is the question.

I hate waiting to know what is going to happen to my father. For the last six weeks we have been to doctors, xrays, appointments, DSHS offices, and filled out more forms than I can even remember, to find out if he has cancer. On Wednesday they found the tumor. On Monday they will biopsy it to see what kind of tumor it is, although the doctors are fairly confident that it is larynx cancer. They don't think it has spread, but it may have. They will probably take out all of his lymph nodes so that it won't spread. He may lose his vocal chords completely and get a box to talk through. My poor father will then be even more poor.

With my Uncle I was ready to fight. I put on my boxing gloves and said "Bring it on". Not so much this time. I know I will fight, but this time I feel battle-worn. My heart and body are already battered, but that does not stop my diligence and determination, for this all must be done. And so I will fight, even though I would rather curl up in my grief with a cuppa' and watch Anne of Green Gables.

Remarkably true and definitely false

Sometimes I have to tell stories to myself. I can't help it. I am that weird girl that totally talks to herself all the time. Today my co-workers even called me an Ave. Rat, and I understood why they would say such a thing. I also have a very large tendency to sing, All. The. Time. In college I earned myself the nick name "Constant Karaoke". Anyway, the point here, the operative portion of this paragraph, if you will, is that I tell myself stories, that are simultaneously remarkably true and definitely false.

If you have read the final Harry Potter book, "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows", you may be able to picture what I am talking about. At the end of the book Albus Dumbledore (who is, by the way, dead), says to Harry, "Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?" Well I can tell you why it is not real. Because it is not happening in real life, but somehow, my stories are very real to me. Does this make me crazy? Quite possibly. Does this make me entirely too full of imagination. Why yes. Yes it does.

So here is my story today. I hope that you enjoy it as much as I have. It's thrilling, enchanting and entirely too much fun.

Once upon a time there lived a girl of magnificent beauty who sang Beatles songs with rapaciousness. Her voice sought the ears of all those lonely in the world and brought sunshine and warmth to their faces. There was, however and most unfortunately, a caged dog that lived within some of those who portrayed a happy life, that would be loosed at the very sight of our girl. Those caged dogs would growl and bark and snarl and snap in every effort to steal her sunny disposition and take it home for their very own. The girl was mostly bold in facing the dogs. She felt her fear most certainly, but her stubbornly set jaw would not allow her to cower. She would look that dog straight in the eye and giggle a most endearing giggle, just to get under his skin. She would skip on her way and leave the beast tethered to it cage. But on occasion one of these dogs would break free from it's leash and chase her down. He would chew on her shoulders and bite at her ears forcing them to bleed. For days after one of these sad encounters she could not hear her own voice... and the Beatles would slowly cease to make sense on her lips. One day, in a most shocking turn of events, she met one of these loosed dogs. He ran her down, and her feet, already mangled from meeting with too many loosed dogs as of late, would not carry her quickly enough. Her soul was weary from being beaten so many times in a row, and she felt anger quickly rising. She turned on the dog, ready to face him. She fired her most snarky remarks and let him have the full force of her fury. Then, quite without expectation, a darling and loyal puppy came loping by. He stopped and watched momentarily while the girl fought the wild animal. The puppy walked up, and the wild animal shied away entirely, leaving the scene in a mass of confusion. Where did such happy puppy's come from? The sadness in the puppy's eyes belied his young age, but the girl did not see the maturity in him. She saw only his cuddly exterior. Not until the puppy stood by her side and walked her home and into the light of the morning did she realize that not all dogs are wild beasts. Not all puppy's are hyper nuisances. Sometimes they are just right for a walk home. At the end of the walk, the puppy left her with a smile and nod. She was glad of his company, but still more glad of the sunshine he restored to her beaten frame.