incessant ramblings of a catatonic photographer


I think that will be the new title of this blog...

zombielike and undervaluedished

(unedited and I don't care)

not that this post is going to make much sense, I'm pretty zombielike. Eyes bulging out - face twitching, legs and fingers numb.

We are up early and E is going to the airport to pick up the rental then hitting the highway.
It's gonna be ugly - this long drive down. Bare grey pavement, skinny branches hanging from black stumps like dead pubic hair from an old Hungarian man.

(beleive me - I've not and never want to see one, but the mind is going into some dark places right now...)


Spent most of the night trying to figure out pricing for the frames. Feeling a little undervalueished. It's not easy - don't want to sell myself short, but don't want people to think that I think I'm so hot shit that I can charge 1000 a piece (I WISH), so I stayed mid range - 100-285. A wide range from 8x10's to 16x20. I think it's fair.

If I don't sell anything, then it will be another story and a long bitchy post.

and then there's new york.
That's getting me stoked.

Remember not to pack everything - the dollar is good and stuff is cheap, so I can buy what I need as long as it's within reason.

as betty and wilma would say: CHARGE IT!!!

Haha.
Watched the Flintstones tonight.
That show rocks.
Tonight Dino had a role in the tv show "Sassie"

Ohhh sassie!

I had to laugh my ass off when I saw his expression after he saw the lead actress (dinosaur...??) take off her wig, and then false eyelashes. The camera does a quick zoom in/out/in/out for emphais and Dino's face drops to the floor in horror.

She ain't so pretty underneath all that fakeness.
Even cartoons don't lie.

Yipe Yipe!

heavy eyelids

I am soo exhausted - my eyelids are so heavy that they are dragging underneath my feet. I occasionally trip on one, and pull out the skin too much. So much so that I can wear them as a one piece jumpsuit.

So much to do - crunch time
getting the frames together, labels, emails galleries (if I have time now..) and then thinking about new york

New York trumps Toronto any day of the week

I can't beleive I'm gonna be in two shows - the openings just hours from each other. E is going to have to roll me up into a little ball, throw me in the back seat and cover my limp body when we leave on Sunday. What a hang-over that is going to be.

Ugh.

I hope it turns out well and that I have a good time -that I don't flip my lid (or eye lid for that matter) in case my meds do a nasty turn on my head.

But I really hope that mom's tests results come back all clear on Friday.

How will I really be able to celebrate if -


well, let's just pray that they come back all clear.

restless everything syndrome

aside from finding out that the mold in my bathroom might be growing as I type this, and the foul sulfur smell coming from my bathroom taps might also be slowly poising me, my body and mind are still awake.

I have spent the last 13 hours straight photoshopping files (converting RAW files to JPEG is about as fast as watching bread rise) and then grouping them all together has pushed me past the exhaustion mark. It's 3:15 and half an ativan later, I'm still wired.

Not a good thing since I have a gyno rv at 9:30 am in the morning

but this is one HUGE thing taken care of - one less monkey on my back.
Now I can begin to panic properly about getting my stuff ready for the show at the end of the month - getting invitations sent out to galleries, putting together a press kit etc etc.

I still have to email those producers who were interested in my projects - the ones I met in T.O. I'll have to explain to them that I was quite literally - out of circulation because of these stupid meds which made me feel half dead.

I know I'll be sorry for staying up so late tomorrow, but damn, I'm glad that I got this done!!!

mold, baldness and other ugly things

there is mold in my bathroom - on the ceiling and god knows where else!

It's been there before - last year when we sanded down all the walls, javexed and then repainted with a special paint which is supposed to resist mold...

but it's back

My mom says that mold is dangerous - and sometimes walls have to be ripped down if it's in the wood.

My worst nightmare come true - the whole house is one big matchstick encased in concrete. I think it was built in 1920? The landlord does the minimal to fix it. I have visions of us wearing gaz masks; and the cats - running around in sterile little plastic bubbles, trying to figure out how we are going to eat dinner.

Worst case scenario...

but still!

It makes a lot of sense - my feeling ill every time I come home from outside. How after airing out the whole house for 4 hours actually made sleeping a bit easier, but still, with no humidifier (had to javex that thing too - there was dry slime in the water compartment. Yes. Dry slime.) So without that humidity, and the heat on, both e and I were sawing some serious wood last night - woke up with a sandpaper mouth and blocked nose.

And the humidifier - that stuff was toxic. My feeling ill and fatigued all started when we hauled out that bacteria infested mist spitting monster. And when it got to cold to close all the windows.

e: we'll keep a window open at night but keep the heat on

why don't we build ourselves an igloo, sleep inside and burn twenty dollar bills for heat?

So I'm thinking that I might be sick because of my environment.
Perhaps it might be a starting point - a lead in this film noir health case I find myself stuck in.

stress

my mom also said that is why I might be going bald.

Seriously going bald.

I have a baby's spot in reverse (you know when babies start to get hair - it begins with a little patch of hair in a spiral formation at the top of their heads?) getting bigger each day. Today I screamed.

It's huge.

And ugly.

Thinning hair comes from having too much stress.
Stress is even liked to cancer says my mom

Lovely

And these meds are not doing anything to help the problem - despite my pseudo "even keeled" mood, there is a catastrophic tsunami rolling over all my healthy cells - wiping out everything that has been strong up to now. Flooded with toxins, my body is beginning to shut down.

Cancer is what shut my mother down - she stopped alright. Took a year off of work, and her hectic pace of a stress filled life.

I am terrified that I will be the next casualty of this natural disaster - and if it does come, it will be swift and deadly - like the tsunami

so I pop ativan and other tranquilizers like Smarties and wait for the black clouds and rumble of impending doom to pass.

water aqua agua l'eau

(unedited)

i love dreams of water, especially when the water is clear and keeps me bouyant

this morning's dream was such a dream...

It was understood that I was in Cuba, but it looked like some west coast glacial lake bed. The water was beyond turquoise - almost pale baby blue with flecks of garnet
does that make sense?

It was noon - the sun was midpoint in the sky, and it was a beautiful July afternoon.
I was in my kitchen, sitting at my stove, completing some paperwork (bills no doubt...) when the sweet tangy salt air sifted through my window screen from the back porch.
how could I resist?

so I got my stuff together, (had my bathing suit on underneath) and hit the road for the beach.

Unlike the last dream with water, one side of the road was flanked with cars - a highway (a coastal highway is what they call it - DUH!!). The water was on my left and industrial din on my right. There was a small sidewalk path that I followed as the cars zoomed by at top speeds - dry dusty ocean spray caressed my bare skin. Abrasive, but I knew I was getting close to my final destination.

The metal jungle turned into Northern Canadian brush as the pavement turned into solid mud road tracks. I could see the lake - so calm, so clear - a bottomless pit of serenity waiting for me to float inside of its watery palm.

As I approached, I heard a group of teens laughing and horsing around near the shore. There was no real shore per say, just a dive off point - edge of flat land banked against the sea. I used a small enclave of broken tree trunks and branches to lower myself down into the water. It was warm, but not hot - body temperature; like moving into a thick fog of soap.

At first, I seemed to struggle, as if there was something pulling me down - thinking I was going to drown, but the more I kicked my legs, the farther my body was propelled horizontally until I glided away from the group to a spot where time and physical space stood still. It was sublime - as if in a dream, or death...

Flipping on my back, and with long strokes, my arms pushed the water away from my hips, shoulders and thighs while my legs, alternating wisps against each other seamlessly left a trail, growing circle of waves where my toes were.

Confident with my ability to stay afloat, I dove underneath the wooden enclave into a deep part of the ocean where the silence pressed against my eardrums and eyes adjusted to being open to this vision of paradise.

All I could see was this heavenly turquoise! That alone was worth the two hour walk! The water was not too clear, but not thick and milky either.
Hmm. In a non-scientific comparison - I would have to say it was about 50% weaker than skim milk.

On one hand, my logical mind expected there to be some density - the water was devoid of any sea life or plankton. Just clear - and as the sun shone directly into it, the rays, like golden fingers, poked through to the bottom, staggering faint patterns of light and dark as if I were swimming underneath a healthy thick lawn in May.

Getting back to the group, I felt refreshed and rejuvenated - a feelign and state of mind which has eluded me for many years.
Oh! To feel that again in real life!!!

I went back, diving in and out of the water - a porpoise alone in the open sea. It was beyond sublime. Beyond anything I have ever imagined, it was heaven.

I glided back to the grassy bank, proud of myself - that I was able to swim alone, dive into the deep, to find out that it was not dark and murky after all, but as light as the water close to the surface.

I was proud. I was at peace.


****

My grandmother said a quirky thing yesterday:
you know, in my dreams, I don't see M in any of them. I see all the other children and family, but not her. I wonder why?

I didn't want to say anything about my dream a month ago, of the old native woman who criticized me for my actions and life choices. Perhaps that was just a residual memory ingrained in my subconscious of the last time we spent time together (when she did criticize me harshly. I don't blame her or hold any resentment. I knew that she was wrestling with her own inner demons at the time as I am now, so there is a deep understanding there, but at the same time, thoughts if that it really was her coming to me in my dreams?)

to much to handle

How could I forget the horrible experience I had with my new family doctor on Friday?

it's easy - it was horrible

she was a little older than me - I'd say 43, but smartly dressed and degrees above her desk, end to end like wallpaper.

She must be good

I told her my family history - maladies, cancers, auto-immune disorders, the works.
She just looked at me with a deadpan Steven Wright face and asked:

and what do you want me to do for you?

after that, she snidely quipped: you have really messed up genes
and a few sentences later:

you have a 50/50 percent chance of dying of cancer or heart disease. It looks like it will be cancer in your case. I'd personally go with cancer because at least you can say goodbye to the people you love - a heart attack doesn't wait.

she seemed put off by my asking if she'd take me on as a patient as I was looking for a family doctor.

with all that is wrong with you, you have to exercise. The fybromyalgia and depression will go away. Do yoga, pilates, running, boxing - anything. Do you do any of that?

no - with this depression, it's hard to even get out of bed

well, you have to do something!

The humiliation continued when I asked her if there was any 'preventive measures' I could take as in terms of early screening for cancer:

no. I'm not going to send you for a scan. I won't give you one cause you'll find a spot on your liver, a spot on your kidney (which I have but apparently it's nothing and pretty common) and then you'll freak out. That alone will contribute to giving you cancer - so all you have to do is exercise and your fybromyalgia and depression will go away - so walk to the subway instead of taking a buss after you see me...

What ever happened to take two pills and call me in the morning?
I mean, I've had more tender send offs in even the most awkward of one night stand - morning afters.

She took a second look at the list of medications the province has on file that I've taken over the year and did a subtle head shake.

As in terms of bloodtests, do these in May and get some exercise!

and that was it

The wounded little girl in me began to tremble with fear, and the weather worn big girl slumped in the subway seat, hopelessness settling into both of us like a damp blanket on a dismal winter evening.


I told E the story:
Well, you know, for some doctors, it's tough love with little to no bedside manner

I bristled at the comment

Let me tell you something about doctors these days. The more you have wrong with you, the less they want to know. The same thing happened with my grandmother - she had spinal stenosis, diabetes and a whole host of other maladies. One doctor said to my mother: she's old, she's sick, it's to be expected. There is nothing much we can do for her now...

And there i was back in the same boat, the same one that my mother once floated by in - her 1st oncologist telling her that she should not even bother with chemotherapy because her kind of cancer had less than a 50% survival rate, but she found a doctor who was determined to help her, and my grandmother found a doctor who was willing to do spinal surgery on an 78 year old woman...

I guess this bad attitude from doctors runs in our genes. I'm only hoping that my medical ship of compassion will come in sooner than later because there is a slow leak in my life raft...

Cinema Paradiso in Quatar

(unedited)
I had just finished putting the final touches on the screening - made sure the popcorn machine was full, each seat had a program, the ticket takers were ready, the projectionist was all cued up and that the brothers were not falling apart from the stress and excitement.

The scene was in an old movie theater in Quatar. It had been raining all afternoon but the dusk brought back the warm weather, but the dampness filtered through the old cushions that had not been sit on in over 20 years. People milled about outside, their chatter sounding like a cacaphony of electric typewriters in an empty room. I was thrilled - because of my intervention, the cinema would re-open to its once former glory, if only for a night.

It seemed as if the inside were outside - almost like a drive in. The brothers helped take tickets at the door while friends and family ushered in the audience. A drive-in-like intermission trailer played in the background

(imagine a middle eastern intermission trailer. Hummus anybody?)

The next thing I remember was getting ready to go home.

It was already morning and E had come to pick me up. I met him outside and introduced him to the people in the little town. All the guys called me beauty - a term of endearment like the north american "sweetheart" - loving and endearing like. They all loved me - I helped a sad isolated neighborhood find the joy and pleasure of cinema again - a communal celebration of imagination and sound.

The brothers gave me a huge hug, happy but sad at the same time. Their paradoxical expressions made my heart break, while at the same time stray fragments soared. My mission was complete - for them and for me. We had both achieved what we set out to do and more, which is always a blessing. They escorted me and E to the car and waved goodbye. Small children ran behind - touching the trunk and singing as we drove into the dusty road.

20 minutes into the trip we motored through the downtown core - looked a lot like Detroit: sandstone art deco buildings devoid of any activity, with the odd group of people walking by or smoking together. Around the corner of what looked like a bank, a film was being shot. A huge crane hoisted the female camerawoman as she pointed to the crew and actors to follow her directions. Huge 10K spots shone into the windows as the bed sheet sized pieces of ND 1 gels flapped in the desert wind.

I made it happen and now they have cinema.

I was so very happy and so very proud.

Over the bridge, the road became lined with lush foliage and huge trees that hung over our path; the kind of road that you find in the foothills of Vermont, so very tranquil. On the left was a lake which ran alongside the road, on the right, a meadow. The sun was later than mid-day high, portrait lighting the leaves and branches. The deeper we drove into this road the more bizarre it became.

On the left - people swam with fishes, mostly tropical - brightly colored and huge. The water was a delicate turquoise but clear as glass. Imagine being inside of an aquarium - without any sides or bottom - the water was magically suspended neatly on the side. The right side now became Central park-ish where families pushed baby carriages, joggers strode by with their ipods and old couples played card games on benches.

about 8 minutes into the ride (not as short as five, but less than 10) the water level dropped and evened out to the right side in terms of greenery, but the fishes were now floating in the middle of the road towards us! Schools of striped fishes, long fishes, neon fishes! It was insane!! While looking on my right, I exclaimed: "look at that huge ferret! He must be 20 feet long!" and there slung between the branches, a thin furry eel-like animal basking in the sun.

But what killed me was the fishes - floating in mid air. No, swimming in mid air!

And what was even more bizarre is that E had a similar dream - being on a bridge that was not really a bridge but was made of water. I was riding through it in an SUV without any second thought until he said: "You can't do that! We are driving on water!"

I guess we must have hear the humidifier run at the same time during the early morning



Perhaps my dream was a reaction to my feeling last night of the realization that with everything going on in my life, and my financial status, I might not be able to make my feature film like I had always dreamed of.

Will it always remain only a dream or will it ever come true?

hip no sis

I wish that my eyelids weren't so heavy because I'd love to share my first hypnosis experience.
Perhaps tomorrow.

It was wacky and cool

I saw an old woman who lead me to a room where I used to live as a little girl.
She was crying because he parents had gone downstairs while she was asleep.
I held her and told her that I would be there for her and then took her into my heart.

that little girl was you, and now she will never be abandoned again.

tears streamed down my face as the hypnotist said this to me, but my body was so heavy, arms like steel beams floating by my sides.

I see my patients every two weeks - it takes time for the suggestions to "sink in".

freaky freaky stuff
but now my conscious mind knows that it needs sleep
so signign off for now..

sigh...

55$ later and my package to Rhonda's Gallery in Chelsea has been sent off. I must have agonized over 500 + pictures to pick the best 150. But it's done and that's one thing off my to do list which has me breathing a little easier.

Saw my doctor today - more mood stabilizers. Not a good thing for the artist's soul.

This is a letter to a friend of mine who is going through the same thing, and then some hearbreak on top of it all. She's trying to find a solution without meds cause her body can't tolerate the chemical. It all started me thinking - and then I typed this as a stream of though.

Re-reading it I realize that I should be following my own advice, but that is easier said than done especially to an uppity knotted mind.

Oh Sweetie - you are writing the story of my life!!!
First, I am sooo sorry for all the thing that happened with Him. As much as it hurts, please know that this is the best thing for you. Looking from an outsider's perspective, he was toxic. I just had a vibe, and knowing you, seeing what he did to you when you spoke of him - your whole presence changed. It was that strong and that much of a contrast - the change in your face, tone of voice and especially in your eyes, it was obvious he was causing you so much pain. I have no doubt that the good times were unbelievable times of passion and love, but that is the greatest dilemma - what do you sacrifice? Peace of mind after the pain has healed or live the passion until it quite literally kills you?

I'm sure your insides are turning upside down - no doubt that your ulcers are burning a hole through your stomach because of this (and other things, but I'm sure this makes it worse), but please believe me when I saw that this is not an ending but a new beginning.

The heart is a resilient organ and even when broken, this muscle - strained and battered will continue to beat.

The mind on the other hand, is a different story, and even thought the two are inexorably linked, one can function independently of the other...

Ahh - the mind.
I had a huge discussion with my doctor today. I tell him all the shit that I'm going through and lace into him for wanting to put me on anti-psychotics...

Then I asked him - what is the lesser of two evils? I am still wondering - suffer from crazy ups and downs which almost put me up in the hospital because my body goes on auto-pilot/ self-destruct while try to ride the creativity when it crests, or take a mood stabilizer and become a sheet of cardboard - flat as beige against a rainbow of color, devoid of all feeling and soul?

Do you think that all great art has to come from suffering?
and do you think that everything you have gone through in the past, the suffering you've experienced has turned you into the unique individual you are already in the way you see the world?

Imagine a photographer realizing he is going blind, but the one thing that will keep him from losing his sight is a drug that makes him miserable. Which do you think he'll chose?

ha!
Stumped him with that one

but the fact remains - I need to find a happy medium to keep the balance in my life without jeopardizing myself and my health. Sure, I could end up in the hospital or in a casket, but who would that benefit? But then again, if I can dance on the edge of the knife of sanity and produce amazing soul stirring art, why not?
Isn't that what my life is about?

but to find a happy medium...
I know where you are coming from.

he suggested more lamotrogine - that shit turns me into a foggy sponge - loss of memory and emotion. He also said epival and zyprexa - but with horrible side effects. What's the best thing? I wish I knew. I wish I could tell myself and impart that wisdom on you too my dear. it's times like this I try to turn to prayer - if not for answers, then to find strength within myself.

Have you heard about cbt? and this book?
I have to read it again and again. It does help - it puts into perspective life patters and how we self-sabotage ourselves, but the key is getting to open the book and beleive that it will help. That's the toughest part.

I often think that all psychiatrists should have experienced mania/depression at least once in their lives in order to treat it better, otherwise they are just reading from textbooks and spewing crooked pharmacological poetry to the wounded massed.

On that note my dear, I must take a rest. I spent all day running around and after peaking last night I am worn down. But I send you lots of love and positive vibes.

And the photo thing - how about opening up another account? Or blocking him? it would be such a shame to not see your photos anymore. They were my inspiration - seriously.

It's thanks to you that my photographic vision changed into one that is more refined and less fluffy. Through the pain comes gain - even though that sounds twisted, it somehow rings true. We just got to know that to someone out there, our existence has made a difference in somebody's life, as yours my dear, has made in mine.

A mental note...

I stumbled upon this through a link to a link and had to make a mental note of it because it is so relevant. Definitely a book to get.


The Wounded Storyteller: Body, Illness, and Ethics (Paperback)
by Arthur W. Frank


In At the Will of the Body, Arthur Frank told the story of his own illnesses, heart attack and cancer. That book ended by describing the existence of a "remission society," whose members all live with some form of illness or disability. The Wounded Storyteller is their collective portrait.


Drawing on the work of authors such as Oliver Sacks, Anatole Broyard, Norman Cousins, and Audre Lorde, as well as from people he met during the years he spent among different illness groups, Frank recounts a stirring collection of illness stories, ranging from the well-known—Gilda Radner's battle with ovarian cancer—to the private testimonials of people with cancer, chronic fatigue syndrome, and disabilities. Their stories are more than accounts of personal suffering: they abound with moral choices and point to a social ethic.

Frank identifies three basic narratives of illness in restitution, chaos, and quest. Restitution narratives anticipate getting well again and give prominence to the technology of cure. In chaos narratives, illness seems to stretch on forever, with no respite or redeeming insights. Quest narratives are about finding that insight as illness is transformed into a means for the ill person to become someone new.

Ill people are more than victims of disease or patients of medicine; they are wounded storytellers. People tell stories to make sense of their suffering; when they turn their diseases into stories, they find healing.

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY to me!!

happy anniversary to me!!

I just looked at my first post and yesterday was my official 3 year mark for this blog!!

Three years already?!??!
It can't be!!!

I'm too congested for introspection right now, but I had to remind myself that if my mind is focused on something, I can follow it through, even if it's only a blog about myself ;-)

puffs to the rescue

I have no idea what is going on with my body - I am sneezing up a storm!
I can't stop. Last night, hours and hours, sneezing and sniffling. Could it be hayfever? I thought that stuff went away with the first frost!? So right next to the mouse is my box of puffs with lotion and on the left of my keyboard, the white mountain of used Kleenexes that I will be ready to ski off soon.

We are looking into getting a hotel in new york, but as I knew would happen - almost all the hotels are booked. I think we will have to bite the bullet and stay in some grungy hostel because that's all that's left. Maybe next time, somebody will listen to me when I say book early.

achooo!

I had sumbitted my work to both of these books - both submissions
dealing with depression and my struggle with manic/depression and the
way I have translated that into photography.
These can in the mail today.Needless to say,
because of my mood lately, they did not sit well
in the mind of this cloudy head.



: the flickr book

Im sorry to tell you that we cant accept you into the book group.
It was capped at 65 women weeks ago and voting on things
has already taken place. 
Sorry.  There will very likely be a book 2 and you will be
able to sign up for that at fspasg shortly.

:)
elle


I want to thank you all for your contributions to Invisible Fire
Journal. I'm sorry that they will not be published
because the magazine has gone bankrupt. My apologies.

overheard in a conversation/kitchen chaos

"and I was three years old and knew all the words! it was so weird. You know that song: "achy brakey heart"? Yea, well, I used to sing it all the time. My aunt bought me the DVD and I loved it so much!"

she was three when she heard that song...
And is now 18

I almost laughed out loud when I heard her talk about it
thought about how funny it would be if I asked her if she knew what an 8-track was, or LP's? Could she even remember the era of "cassettes"? Or what "old walkmans" looked like compared to today's Ipod?

Then it made me feel old. Really old
but then privileged because I was around to see the end of an era - the 78 (my grandmother had tons of them) that even played on their old stereo.

Funny, I miss those pops and scratches that came with prolonged long playing of the lp.


Did lots of walking today - it was sunny, crisp not cold. It made me happy to be warmed by the sun and getting some fresh air. Stopped off at 2nd hand store. Got a kick ass pair of Aerosoles. 10$! How could I pass it up?

as if I need more shoes?

but don't we all say that?

After I got home, I felt the manic panic set in. Dishes piled to the sky in both the "in/soiled" and "out/clean" bins. The cats (still disoriented by the daylight savings time change - at 4:30pm, their torturous wailing beings) flipping out, the house smelling like an old shoe - all too much for me.

My table set me off - I've done some retro collage with those old food ad illustrations from the 50's. It looks great other days of the week, but tonight it made me edgy and panicky. For a moment, I sympathized with epileptics who can't see flashing lights because it could induce seizures.

My eyeballs shook like loose change in a beggars pocket as I tried to avert my gaze - but to what?

Crazy stacked dishes?
Mountians of paper and nick nack chaos on the stove?

From previous experiences, I knew that anything which was not tied down would soon be airborne, so I unfurled a solid colored tablecloth over the retro visual din, draped all the appliances with tea cloths, and tossed the cats a can of food each in their bowls.

Now, my kitchen looks like a mausoleum - appliances in mourning, plates and Tupperware crammed into shopping bags on the floor

but at least it's calm now.

No animals or dishes were harmed prior to or during writing of this blog...

A letter to a friend...

My friend S's wife is going for an MRI scan today. Doctors are curious as to her health problems so they are doing a round of tests.

Talk about coincidence. Mom was supposed to have hers today except the machine broke...

what I wrote to him:


My prayers are with you and F. From what you tell me, she sounds like a strong woman, I have faith that she will be okay. Please keep me posted too.

My mom's scan has been postponed till the weekend. The machine broke down yesterday. How messed up is that??? But she is taking it all in stride. better than I am actually. I have been a bag of nerves as of late. These meds have me climbing walls - not a pretty sight. I can't even turn to my photography to help me - and that's really sad.

How are you doing on your meds? It's so hard to find a sympathetic doctor these days. Mine is a rookie, using me as his "training wheels" in terms of mix and match creative pharmacology, which I don't find amusing.

I am looking for a more compassionate doctor, but that's not easy to find.

I'm getting nervous over the nyc show - it's a group show, sure, but I am really scared that it might open more doors for me. How weird is that? I'm into self-sabotage, have been for ages, and it's only when the meds are not working when I fall deeply into it. When the meds were working - many moons ago, I felt alive and full of possibilities. I made my films, worked in the industry, and when that fell through, seamlessly segued into photography school until the anti-depressants bottomed out. I'm wondering (and in the back of my mind, scared shitless) that if I have to bottom out 110% like I did when I was 19 in order to bounce back again.

But the fact remains, I'm not 19 again - 20 years later and wiser, yes, but also a little weaker and worn. With all that has happened in the past year, I really don't know what will suffer more in the rebound - my physical health or mental state. Perhaps both, but I guess only time will tell.

My dear, I have to cut this short as I have to get out of the house. I've been lying in bed for the past three days, not getting any fresh air. My lungs are filled with musty stagnant melancholy for summer and warm weather - I must embrace the change of seasons and march out into the cold like the Nordic trooper we canucks are born to be.

I'm lost. I'm afraid.

this is an image from my film - now close captioned.



This is a letter to a friend I wrote today.

I'm so sorry that I have not been in touch lately. My mind is about to explode as I am swinging between celestial highs (which the good parts don't last too long - damn) to the sewage scraping lows.

It's scary as hell and I'm on my way to get my period, which I know will either make me end up in the hospital from hysteria or so tranquilized on drugs that all I will be able to do is shit and sleep.

Few are my options now as my life hangs in the molecular balance of pills that are supposed to keep me from the celestial highs and sewage scraping lows.



I can't tell you how odd it was to see my film again on the big screen. I thought it would hit me full force - seeing what I lived through 20 years ago, only to now go through it again, but I did something smart: I hid behind my camera, taking quick snaps of my images, now close captioned.

It's only now I realize that my 1000$ chunk of carbide and glass was what kept me from falling to 1000 pieces.

I must make this quick - I have an appointment with my acupuncturist. He's my only holistic hope - 1000 pins into this deflating body, trying to re-arrange my energy, and put out the fire in my liver.

Only light comes here

Inside the damp folds of my memories and moments of desperation that are becoming ever so frequent, only light comes here - not very often, but when it does, I try to smile.

A letter to some friends...

wings
Originally uploaded by hellophotokitty

I posted this on flickr. A place of support and love which has kept me going through some really tough times.

First, I want to thank all of you who send such wonderful messages of sympathy and support after my aunt's death two weeks ago. We take great comfort that she was surrounded by her family and went in her sleep - which is the way I think most of us would want to go...

Second, my mom is going to have her 3 month MRI scan to see if the cancer has spread to other areas in her body. These are always nerve wracking because this will not only tell her what she has in store for the next few months, but as to what course of treatment, if any, will be next.

The last two scans have been clear. She worries that her return to work full time along with all the stress that comes with it might have weakened her system, so I'm just putting it out there - if you could all say a little prayer tomorrow that the scan does come back with a clean bill of health, it would be so greatly appreciated by me and my mom.

She gets the results in a month, so I will keep you all posted.

coincidental music

Little synchronicities in life happen all the time, and the really weird ones I write about here...


My mind - (i've run out of adverbs/adjectives to describe this state) well, lets just say that it's spinning again because I am overwhelmed with all kinds of stuff:

-processing 200 RAW files (this computer begins to smoke each time I try to convert one)

-sifting through thousands of my photos to pick the best of the best for Rhonda (she needs the cd by the 15th, so that means it has to go out by the 13th latest)

- preparing for the end of the month show (printing labels, updating my site, printing up books, fixing the frames)

- and putting together a treatment of my doc idea and other important info to follow up for the impo showbiz peeps I met on the weekend.

phew.

That doesn't seem like a lot, but for this little manic ant, my molehill that has become mount Everest.

And funny thing - the songs that have played back to back on the radio:

I'm Over My Head (Fleetwood Mac) but it does not feel nice...
Manic Depression (Jimi Hendrix)

I could not stop laughing when they began to play.

Music tailor made for your moods!



***

I had some weird dreams again - was in some clear glass dome (?) at night, climbing up the side of a mountain. There was a city on top, bustling and noisy. Climbing was not as hard as it was tiring. There was a woman's presence - Navaho indian (?) who was not really encouraging (tough love perhaps?) who yapped in the background.

Overhead, planes swooped by in the indigo sky - light trails like fairy dust. I had a feeling of impending doom that they were all going to crash, but they didn't, but the feeling didn't go away.

At the top it was afternoon and I was in an eclectic couple's house. Shag carpet on the walls (a cool beige - thank God), odd shaped wooden African artifacts placed next to glossy art deco statues. The couple seemed nice. I was supposed to watch the house for some reason.

Once again, that impending doom of inevitable plane crashes swerved behind my eyes. Another panic moment - I was going to miss my flight. Eyeblink - it was night again, and that woman's presence scolded me for procrastinating, which just took the anxiety level to the top.


kineko's whiskers on my face woke me up, and thank God for DST.
My body thought it was 11:30 but falling back sure saves me an extra hour of feeling guilty for sleeping in...

nervosa

nervosa

just plain allovertheplace nervosa.

Funny - you can't find an actual "definition" of it unless it's attached to bulimia or anorexia

I googled nervosa and got this (which I think is hysterical, aside from the shitty pictures) which was pretty high on the search chart.

Nervosa - a state of being nervous? An act of being nervous?


welbutrin = nervosa for moi

I only wish I were half productive so I could generate some art
something


but all I can do right now is dry heave



.

all the way home...

I caught a horrible stomach flu, and was keeled over all the way home with a plastic bag on my lap in case my liquid lunch made it's way out the wrong end.

This weekend (and last) I spent some time with some extraordinary people, and was blessed to meet a few who changed my life.

I was part of the exposed - Abilities arts festival, had a film and three photos in the show. Meeting the event organizers and some of the artists was a mind blowing eye opening experience. There was so much love and passion put into this event, moving me deeply and so very touched to be a part of it.

There was one film I saw that blew me away, and gave me hope and courage to face my demons head on.


Thank you Paul. Seeing your film and meeting you in person was indeed a gift and a life changing experience.

rock star - part deux

I feel like a rock star again...

And I'm floored all over again!

Went to the opening event of the festival - met some fantastic people, really amazing inspirational individuals. Despite their disabilities, they created some breathtaking inspiring art. Stuff that just blew me away.

And then one girl came up to me, with tears in her eyes: I'm so glad to finally meet you. Your film changed my life - more than you know. Thank you, thank you so much.

I'll elaborate more later, cause I'm exhausted and excited and on a laptop with a keyboard that is driving me nutso - but it's good. All good.

And today, I followed a link miles and miles long of low lying clouds - DNA of precipitation suspended and saw the light rays break through the grey skies and said to myself: my aunt is here, she is everywhere now. She is with me.