Anger and Enlightenment

I feel an unhealthy amount of anger right now. I took a walk and contemplated why I was feeling this way. I have come to understand that I am feeling this way due to unfinished business. Unfinished business with my father.

One would think that after 19 years that I would be able to put that aside. But I guess you would never know unless you went through it. Every time that I think that I reach some milestone in emotional development with this situation, I become undone. Tonight, a discussion came up, a discussion that I would rather not replay. In this discussion, a person came under fire tonight. That person is the closest thing I have had for a father since my father died. I have always fiercely held true to this belief that this person was a godsend to me. When I was at my lowest time in my life, he was there. When I had nowhere to go, he was there. When I had no money, he was there. When I had no food or power, he was there. Always making sure that I had what I needed. When we were at our peak in this life, we had a small empire. Five businesses successfully run. My life was charted. I was to take over this empire when the right time came. But the right time never came. Because he suffered a series of heart attacks, and I, a bleeding ulcer. I could not bear the burden of five business. I tried. I couldn't do it. In the end it was like it was in the beginning. Work all the time and sleep maybe 3 hrs if I was lucky.

Over a decade after the beginning, and only about a year and a half since the end, I am still in debt to this man. I repay him, becuase, as a student of the course called life, he is my ultimate teacher. He is like Buddha. He is like Jesus. He is like and unlike, anyone you have ever met. He is so giving of himself and his resources, that he shines a golden light.

He picked me up from the ground when he first met me, and I have been indebted to him since.

I almost lost him. The heart attacks. I was mad. Mad, becuase I was thinking, "How the hell can I be cursed twice, the same way, in life?" And God responed. He said, "I think you are losing sight of your path. You, need to learn to slow down and listen."

So I did.

And then I lost it again, until tonight.

That is just what I am hearing. Slow down and listen. Is this the way you want your life?

I want to honor those who have honored me. I want to love those that have undoubtedly loved me, through all. I want to never, ever, forget that what I have been taught in life, is a lesson I needed to learn. I will never dishonor those who display that. Never. Not my father, not Bill. They have been my biggest fans in life, and they have believed in me. That I would know the truth. That I would be wise enough to discern between rhetoric and truth.

I know the truth. I know that to know the truth, one must first let go of all perceptions.

Then the truth becomes clear.

Closing the Circle

(Post from 11/25/07)

I just realized something. An epiphany, if you will. Here goes. Every significant, life altering event in my life has come full circle. Every single thing. It's freaky weird. And it all has to do with where I am working. Check it out.


I now work at National Car Rental which is located in the Holiday Inn Airport. I started work on Nov. 16th. The 18th anniversary of my father's death. Not only did I work at National for a short time about a decade ago, but I married a man that worked at National. Prior to that, I had dated a man that worked at National, with whom I got pregnant, and had to make a decision I will never make again. This very same man, whom remained a close friend moved on Nov. 16th, the very same day that I started work at National. The man that was my first love, Chris, used to work at the Holiday Inn. He was murdered 10 years ago on Nov. 17th. And the 18th was Bret's birthday. And I about had a life altering move then too. But didn't. The circle is closed I think.


Does anyone see the correlataion as I do? To me it's just freaky wierd.

I've been waiting....

Brokedown Palace

So, a friend of mine wanted me to post a certain story on this blog. This is one helluva a story, if you ask me. It has gone down in the book of legends. It is the story of my last Grateful Dead show. (The horror)

Here we are, June of 1995. My roommie, Kevin and I are pretty damn serious deadheads. All we do is trade shows, go to shows, and constantly listen to shows. This run, that we are going to is in Washington, DC. It's a run of 2 consecutive nights, and we are hoping to get into both.

At that time, I was one broke motherfucker. In fact, I quit a job just to go to this run of shows. (And I am so glad I did) Personally, I have about $70 for the trip. Yikes. We forge ahead. We pack bananas and bread and peanut butter and jelly, and water. Bare essentials, folks. We set out north in the middle of the night.

I am driving through the northeastern part of Tennessee when I almost kill us. Whoever decided to put a 55 mph speed limit on a road that shoudn't have been more than 35 mph, is to blame. (It wasn't me, I swear! :) Of course, we don't die, and keep going.

When the sun rises, we are about halfway up the Blue Ridge mtns in Virginia. I am starting to get really excited! Almost there!

When we finally do roll into DC, we go to find a campground. I forget the name of the place we stayed, but it was pretty cool. We found our spot, and set up camp. We had some really cool neighbors that were all about some frisbee, and MGD, and homemade bongs. We met them and spent some "quality" time with them. They were to be our neighbors for the next few days. Then we decide to go to RFK. (which, unfortunately, no longer exists, neither does the Omni)

We make it throught the awful traffic of DC, and yes, we did flip off the IRS building and yelled "Fuck you!" Windows were open in the building so someone had to hear us. I am such a rebel!

We make it to RFK. Wow, this place is huge! We find our spot in the parking lot and set to procuring some tix to the show. It's raining, and generally a little miserable with the heat and humidity. In fact, a guy took a piss in the lake and lightning hit and and fucked him up! When we finally get to trying to find tix..... SOLD OUT. Fark! We scour all night until half the show is over, and by then we just resigned to being outside the show. The beauty of it was that we could still hear the show. Just from a bit of a distance.

Somehow, Kevin and I separated, and I met some really cool cats that smoked me down, and gave me some to take back with me. I still thank you to this day, beautiful stranger.

We are kinda bummed we didn't get in the first night. We go back to the campground after the show and hope for a better tomorrow. We party with our neighbors, and end up getting pretty fucked up (at least I did).

We wake up the next day, and have new hope. We set out early for RFK, hoping to get tix and not make this a wasted trip. Here's were we should've known better....

A young african-american approached us with two tix. They sure as fuck looked real enough. He was offering them at face value. We were so desperate that we were easily suckered. We tried to get into the show. A test that the guy did on the tix showed they were fake.

DENIED.

What the fuck? I traveled over 700 miles to not get in? I don't think so. Kev and I pondered for a bit what to do. For me, that was the last of my money. I had no choice. What I did next, I don't and never did feel right about. But I did it.

We decided to try to find a sucka as unsuspecting as us. And pass them off. We found a couple of yuppies and figured that they could AFFORD to buy another set, after they figured out the ones they got from us were fake. We found em. A young college age couple, very well dressed.

I did the deed, and sold them the tix, then hightailed it straight into a crowd of hundreds. I quickly changed shirts and even moved my car. Just in case. I felt like shit for doing it. But I had no other choice if I wanted to see the band. And well, hell, I didn't come 700 miles for nothing.

I will burn in hell for that later, I know it.

We ended up getting tix from the box office after that. It was a Sunday night for the 2nd show, and wasn't sold out. (We should've gone there first...but who knew) We're in! Woohoo!

So we enter the show, and find the sweet spot. Right beside the soundboard. That's where ya want to be if you want the goods. We are treated to an opening set by Bob Dylan. Then and interim, with Dylan and Garcia, most noteably playing Rainy Day Women 17 & 35.

EVERYBODY MUST GET STONED!

The night is wonderful. Of course, Vince Welnick sucks, but given that it was my absolute last GD Show, I am still in great appreciation of it. We got an awesome setlist, and some serious boogie on that night. What I will never forget is the encore. Brokedown Palace. Jerry's hair blowing in the wind. The sweet words cascading from him....the music in harmony with all. I cried. Somehow, I knew this was the last I would see of him. Somehow....

I don't even remember getting back to the campground, I just remember Jerry. .. Papa. Where have you gone? We need you!

As a side note, I do remember that earlier that day we had walked through a minefield of broken glass. I was barefoot, and luckily only got one piece in my foot. But I did dance in the mud barefoot all night, and never gave it a second thought. (Minor surgury was preformed 5 days later to get it out)

Imagine.....just for a bit, the breeze blowing, the sweet notes of Jerry's guitar, the burnt up voice of an old man, an old man that is our papa.


Fare you well, my honey,
fare you well my only true one.
All the birds that were singing
are flown, except you alone.

Going to leave this brokedown palace,
On my hand and my knees,
I will roll, roll, roll.

Make myself a bed in
the waterside,
In my time, I will roll, roll roll.

In a bed, in a bed, by the waterside
I will lay my head.
Listen to the river sing sweet songs,
to rock my soul.

River going to take me,
sing me sweet and sleepy,
Sing me sweet and sleepy
all the way back home.

Its a far gone lullaby,
sung many years ago.
Mama, mama many worlds I've come
since I first left home.

Goin home, goin home, by the riverside
I will rest my bones,
Listen to the river sing sweet songs,
to rock my soul.

Going to plant a weeping willow,
On the banks green edge it will grow, grow, grow.
Sing a lullaby beside the water,
Lovers come and go, the river will roll, roll, roll.

Fare you well, fare you well,
I love you more than words can tell,
Listen to the river sing sweet songs, to rock my soul.

~Brokedown Palace
Grateful Dead

Wicked Trip Part 2

So George H. Bush comes to eat lunch with a family in Hendersonville. It is roughly 1993, around November, say 13th...

The interstates are backed up. Unheard of at that time. The bridges and overpasses had cops with sniper rifles at each end. I was tripping on at least the equivalent of 4-5 hits of acid. I had no idea what was going on, but I had developed a theory. wink wink.

My "theory" was that a man had called the police and said that he would jump off a bridge, but they just didn't know which one. So, in my naive state, I am thinking that the cops are actually trying to save someone. Not snipe them.

So we are in traffic for quite a while. We had the windows of the bus rolled down, and we eventually scooted up to another car that had the windows down. I decided to ask...

"Do you know what is going on here?"

She replies with, "President Bush is in town."

And my response is an astounding...."So?"

Nice one butthead. She says, "It's in case anyone is trying to kill him."

To which I boldy reply, "I'll do it!"

Um, bad news bears. She scowled at me at rolled the window up. I realized what I had said after I said it. What a dumbass! But hey, I was 16 and on acid.

Somehow, we make it through the traffic jam, and without being captured by men in black...whew. I don't know exactly why, but we did stop at a Wendy's after that. I remember walking in the parking lot toward the restauarant feeling like I was hovering at least 2 feet in the air above the ground. I was gliding. I giggled about it. It felt funny, good, and a little ticklish.

I remember getting a frosty and just mainly playing with it. It wasn't too long after that I had to go home. Shit, are you serious?

I was still mega peaking. 5 hits into it, and about 8 hours into it....I had a long way to go. I had to go home. To my mom, who was my worst nightmare at the time.

Oh holy hell, it's a damn wonder I didn't experience a nuclear meltdown when that time came. I arrived home and my grandmother was there too. I went into the living room and turned on the TV. I found Little Nikita. I loved, absolutely loved River Phoenix. He was one sexy bastard. So I was hooked.

I spent the rest of the afternoon trying to watch Little Nikita, and simultaneously trying not to pull out all of the carpet fibers. I just knew my mom knew something was up. I was going nuts about it inside. Therefore, when I asked her if I could stay over at Mira's house, and she said yes, I thought it was a trick. I almost fucked it up for myself.

I called Mira, and asked her to come and get me, she said....."Be there in 20 mins."

One Wicked Trip

It was November 13, 1992. I had just gotten my driver's license. So did one of my best friends. Her parents had a 1986 Volkswagon Westfalia Bus. It was awesome. So on this particular weekend, my friend, Mira, and some of my other best buds, decide....hey it would be a great idea to split a 10 strip and go into the woods in Mira's bus.



Voila, an idea is born.



It's early Saturday morning. We converge at the Waffle House. Us, in our teenage angst wasteland, decide this is a GOOD way to spend a Saturday. We eat breakfast, and head out. I am in charge of dispensing the LSD, as I was the one who procured it. I'm cutting tabs with a razor on the little countertop in the bus, while Mira is driving. Little did I know that I was absorbing the liquid right off the paper. I eat two hits, and Mira and Chris eat one. Darrah, waits. Mira drives up on the Parkway, we head south. We are having a great time on the way. Listening to good tunes, and laughing all the way. We get to Graveyard Fields. This is where we are going to play today. We start off on the trail. It goes well until about 2/3rds of the way down the trail to the first falls. I start to lose it. Everything is morphing. Roots are moving, limbs are dancing. I can hear the heartbeat of the earth. We decide to sojourn at the the first falls. It was while I was at the base of the falls that I had an incredible urge. I had to climb that waterfall.



I watched as the water came rushing down. Over rocks, roaring to the earth. I was overtaken with a primal urge. And that urge was to climb that damn waterfall. I decided to tackle it from the west side. I don't know why, this was actually the more difficult side to climb.



I set off across the rocks to the left shore. I mushed through damp earth. I reached the first of many trees. I looked up, and saw a way. I jumped, grabbed on, and proceeded, limb by fucking limb, to the top. Through at least 20 trees, all connected in some way. I am an orangutang! OOOO EEEEEE!



So I thought. I got to the top, so exhilerated, so breathless from my climb. I was ecstatic! I did it! I climbed the waterfall! I am king of the world!



Then, I turned around. SON OF A BITCH! I was at the dead beginning of the trail. The bridge was familiar. The surrounding landscape was familiar. Well, fuck me.



I turned around and looked down the waterfall, and my friend Mira was making some strange hand gestures at me, and there was (in my opinion) a really creepy dude right behind her taking pictures of her. I thought that she was trying to tell me that he had made her cry. I was gesturing to her to watch out for that guy. What she was really trying to tell me was the she just sat on a pin, and it went right in her ass, and it made her cry. Well, I didn't know this, and was going apeshit on top of the waterfall. Our friend, Chris, decided he was going to get this situation under control. He climbed the waterfall, the exact same way as I did. He got to me and let me know everything was allright. Mira and Darrah jumped into 40 degree or below water, and swam like fish.



Chris talked me into walking down the trail, who takes the trail? Me, I take the trees....And everything is going ok, until he stepped on a rock. And that rock sucked his foot in like a super sponge. I start to instantly flip out. I mean, hell, my friend is being eaten by a rock, for God's sake!



I'm yelling at him to get off the g'damn rock! And not only that, I am yelling at any passerby, "Do NOT step on that rock! You must avoid the rock!" Needless to say, I had a few really strange looks shot my way. Chris navigates me past the rock, while I am just flipping the fuck out. We make it back down to the bottom of the waterfall. By then Mira and Darah are mere popsicles. We head back to the bus. We get in and bundle up, and start to try to cook something hot. We have brocolli and cheese RiceARoni. This event will go down in history.



Mira fires up the oven. We start the rice, water, butter mixture in the pot. Check. The water comes to a boil. Super Check! We are on our way! Then 8 mins into it, the flame dies. Nothing. Dead in the water.



Hey, isn't there a little convenience store at Pisgah Inn? Let's check it out. We go. It EXISTS! We are saved! If you count popcorn, chips, and soda as salvation. It's not what we wanted, but it'll do. We go back out to the bus after what must have been 20 mins picking out munchie food.



We forget about our previous plight of not being able to finish the Rice A Roni. Mira cranks the bus and we head out of the parking lot. She takes a sharp right to manuever through. The pot of Rice A Roni skids across the countertop. I see it moving ever so slowly. It goes off the edge. At that precise point, the pot dumped it's contents into the air. I saw rice granual after rice granual flip slowly end over end, making a strange WHOOSH WHOOSH sound everytime an end flipped over. Slowly it worked it's way through the air. The mass of rice and mixture. Then all of a sudden BOOOM! SPLAT! KABLOWIE! All over Darrah!



She was sitting on the floor of the bus, and Chris and I were in the bench seat, Mira driving. The look on Darrah's face was priceless! I laughed so damn hard I thought my midsection was going to disentigrate! I will never forget it to this day!



On the way back, we ran into another scenario, Bush I's visit to the Carolinas, and that is another post entirely. So is the one that continues into the night.



We got back to Mira's house, and let Ryden, her dog, clean Darrah, and the inside of the bus. That, my friends, was only the beginning. Stay tuned for Part 2 and 3.

Come On Baby, Light My Fire!

This past Saturday night, I was with my guy, at one of his band practice sessions. This is a band that is into heavy, dark, electronica. He drums for them, and I think he does great. The band is comprised mainly of people that work for Moog Music. If you don't know about Moog, do some research. Robert Moog changed the face of music. Not only with synthesizers, but with effects pedals, and other means of modulating signals.

Anyhow, they were running kind of long at practice, and I had been talking with one of the band member's wife all night. Practice was at thier house, and it was the first time I had really been there the whole time. She is someone I went to school with and was friends with for the short time that she was at my school. She was getting hungry, and said that her husband normally did the cooking on the grill. She had been marinating chicken and steak all day, and it was calling to her.

Being the grillmeister that I am, I offerred my assistance. She said if I wanted to I was welcome to do it. So I did.

I carefully stacked the charcoal in the grill, and asked for lighter fluid. She told me it was the pre-soaked kind. Oh boy. The last time I used that stuff, it CAUGHT my grill on fire, and damn near burned down my house. So I was apprehensive of using it, but I did anyway. I lit the coals and they flamed up so high that I thought that the roof of her front porch might ignite. I closed the lid and opened the vents. After a bit, I thought that it was burning at a reasonable rate. Then I made my mistake. I opened the lid.

A frickin' fireball shot out at me!

And it caught me on fire! Holy cripes!

My hair was on fire, my shirt was on fire, and I freaked the fark out! I was patting at both my hair and shirt like a madwoman. I got it out in the span of about 5 seconds, but it scared the bejesus out of me! All we could smell was burning hair. Then after a minute of freak out, I realized my arm really hurt. I looked down, and everywhere that was exposed was burnt. Not badly, but like a flash burn. My shirt was crispy, and all the hair on my arm and the little hairs on your face on my right side, all burnt to nubs. The hair on my head, took a good loss to the right side, but it's pretty hard to tell. I have so much hair, no one says that they notice, but I do.

Regardless of the human barbeque, the chicken and steak came out excellent.