I wonder...

I wonder if this will work. This process that is self discovery.
Looking, wandering, wondering and moving forward. Stumbling towards a better understanding of myself.

Hopefully...

some regrets are regretful

I saw a brilliant film, for the 2nd time, with new eyes, and it was as brilliant today as it was back in 1995 when it saw it for the first time at the Montreal World Film Festival.

La Haine by Mathieu Kassovitz.

Seeing that film on the big screen is a must - because the power of the image is lost on a small screen (not entirely, the characters and writing are simply phenomenal), but this was a film that was instrumental in influencing my reasons to be a filmmaker.

I can remember when it came out and I saw it here at the WWF. People were still reeling from their raging erection over Resevoir Dogs and i could not understand why. Taratino made over the top, in-your-face-violence sexy. Critics hailed him as a genius. When La Haine came out, I told everybody and their dog to RUN and see this film.

"If you think smart ass is the best thing since sliced bread, then you will see that this young man is the best thing since the electricity!" 


was my pre-amble and would quickly pique the interest of the testosterone mongers.


"And if you think Resevoir Dogs was raw, then you will walk out of this film with shit stains in your pants. Kassovitz does not make violence sexy. He makes it real. Yes, the film's atmosphere is fuled with fear, hate, and agression, it's also filled with a small glimmer of hope.  Any act of aggression is primitive, but this is the thinking man's aggression - a double edged sword which can be used for change or destruction. And in this film, it's both."

People listened up until about the last line and then yelled out in a sophomoric grunt:  "But Resevoir Dogs fucken Rocks man!"

Perhaps that is why La Haine never really "took off" in America. People were wrapped up in the sexualization, the glamourization of killing and maiming people. Power equals sex appeal. Sex appeal equals power. And Resevoir Dogs was all about that - it was an gangster genre regurgitated in an Armani suit and spit back out at the public in technicolor and dolby sound.

European films were always my preference. And this film solidified my belief that despite the US's hatred of the French, les Francais were head and shoulders above the intellectual and spiritual evolutionary ladder of middle America...



I'm too tired to go into all the details right now, because if i didn't edit myself, i could go on for hours, so i will edit...

I was called to be an extra in the movie Gothica and had auditioned for one of the bit parts, but was cast as a mental patient/inmate at a woman's prison. (The irony was not lost on me, and had a hoot telling my friends this story: "they could not have picked a better person to play a mental patient - HELLO!!")

Working with Halle Berry, and Robert Downy Jr (who actually shares my birthday - how geeky of me to know this..) was something i was looking forward to as they are both actors who are beyond talented, but I almost fainted when I found out after the fact that Mathieu was directing it. Working on the same set as him. What in God's name were the chances?!?!

it gets better...

I ran into him at one of the main film production houses before the show began. A complete chance meeting. We walked by each other and smiled - and both looked back at the same time. He must have been wondering why I was dragging my chin on the floor as he approached and then passed me.

I felt as if i was 14 and had just seen one of the Beatles in person, nearly fainting when i got outside of the building.

The first day on the set, (I had just highlighted my hair, making it even more flaming red than it already was) I whispered to all the girls about my meeting and that this quiet and sweet director was perhaps one of the most prolific young european directors of our generation.

And then he walked onto the set.

Nobody knew of this film i was raving about, let alone the director.

He walked past us, a group of 20 women, smiled, and then,  i guess he remembered me from our chance meeting a few days before (with my flaming red hair and falling jaw), looked right at me, and said "Hello".

I could hear the gasps behind me, and one of my friends grabbed my arm so hard, i was convinced that she was about to rip it off.

"YOU KNOW HIM!? HOW DO YOU KNOW HIM?!"
20 women began to buzz around me like angry hornets.

I explained my story. They were all star-stuck, but not as much as i was....

Here i was in the presence of a director who changed my views on filmmaking forever and I could not even bring myself to thank him for making that film, let alone tell him how much i admired his work not only as a director, but an actor.

I froze.

And the first shot of the filming, the camera pans past the women in the prison yard. Placing people is key. No matter what you think, every little thing in a shot is there for a reason. Everything.

Every body.

Chatty hens we were, and as they prepped the shot, MK looked over to my direction, talked with his assistant director, who then came up to me and asked me to move to the forefront of the shot. I guess he wanted my flaming red hair to punctuate the scene. (I was in fact, the only red head in the whole movie, oddly enough), so i knew this was not a mistake or whim. Red stands out against a grey background, with everybody in grey, looking grey (literally, we were all made to look pasty and ill).

My knees knocked as he yelled action.

We were on the set for 2 weeks, and not once did I say anything more than "bonjour". How i wanted so desperately to tell him: "thank you for that film. It changed my life. What an honor to be working with you...". I didn't say a peep.

And to top it off, I was rushed to the hospital due to an extreme case of food poisoning hours before the "famous Hale Berry naked in the shower scene". I had been picked to be one of the chosen few women to run around on set without any clothes.

Go figure.

I think had i been given the chance to be naked in front of him and the whole camera/sound crew, it would have been so easy to sit down and talk about anything after that experience. I mean, being naked in public can actually grow you a set of balls, and at that time, so desperately needed...


2010 a few hours ago...
5 years after Gothica was made, i saw La Haine again tonight, 15 years after the first time i saw it at the world film festival's exclusive premiere engagement.


And I have the deepest pangs of regret for not telling him how much i loved that film when i could have, actually had...

Criterion collection has made that film part of their repertoire. Jodie Foster even does a short intro about the film. Everybody knows who he is now, and what the film is.

I think that any praise at this point,  would not mean as much as it would have back in 2005 when not even Hollywood knew who he really was, (but at the time of the release of that film, Europe had already been singing his praises) and his film, an obscure cinematic gem was still yet undiscovered here on the other side of the ocean. Yet that film still endures. I just found out that he is working on another film, which i have no doubt, will be true to his vision, and touch people once again.

Deep regret.
I feel so sad that i'm sick to my stomach.


Odd isn't it.
This regretful regret.

Perhaps because I am a filmmaker myself, an artist who lives their work even more passionate than their day to day lives, because i know that knowing that your work has touched somebody's life so deeply is such a deeply humbling experience, and the fact that i missed that window of opportunity while i had more than several wide open spaces to literally, walk right up to him tears me up inside.

J'ai perdu mon courage...

I never got to thank him for inspiring me. For being so brave to take such a bold stance on a subject that was so personal to him. For standing tall in the face of his critics because he believed so unflinchingly in the movie he wanted to make. I never got to say: "your film changed my life...:

That moment is gone forever.

Unless, i can find his agent...



Dare I retell my story at the risk of sounding like a complete geekazoid?

I don't know, but something is telling me: "what's the worst that can happen? it's not like he even lives in my country that I will ever see him again..." and that: "hey, he might actually appreciate your sincere gesture of appreciation."

I dunno

but i do know that my time on this planet is short, and that going for 3 days without more than 4 hours of sleep is making me a bit manic, and there are times when i was manic and did things that i regretted, but life experience and battle scars have  made me a little more savvy and attuned to my intuition when it nudges me. I don't want to live a life of regrets any more.

I've made a promise to myself.
Stay true to your hopes, dreams, and live life to the fullest.
Take chances. Take as many as you can.

Will work on an email, polish it up, sound uber intelligent and coherent, and then take a breath, take a chance, and press "Send" to Mr. Mathieu one day soon.

it was good

I have to recount a dream I had the other night.

very creepy cool but it was good.

I think i have also found my spark again. That longing to make a difference in the world. The knowing that I'm here for a purpose greater than I can ever imagine.


going for some dinner comfort food with mom and hubby. Will be back later.

I seem so lost when I don't write.
My head needs to empty, my soul needs to expand, my fingers need to exercise and follow the words from my head to the keyboard.

it's all good...

it's all good bro...

I am so happy that i dragged my sleepless restless body outside today to meet an old friend.  He was Big in our Sex and La Cite. He was perfect for the role, but then again, everybody was bang on. We all still talk about those wonderful times. Everybody says: "that was once in a lifetime chemistry that we had", and because of my writing, i was the seed that made it happen.

BUT anyway...

so I met with E and went to his bachelor pad. Not bad for a bachelor pad I must say. and the guy is pretty tidy for a dude. So we caught up, talked a lot of shop talk, which was nice. it had been a while since i spoke cinema speak with anybody other than myself. He's working grip on a youtube sensation that will now be featured on the food channel - Bitchin Kitchen. Funny, our greek boy in the play actually plays the greek boy/fish monger/meat specialist. Oh i had a laugh when he told me about that.


And then we spoke of future projects. He really does value my opinion and we have always worked so well together - the last one was Travesty where I DPd. Apparently, lots of people though it was really well shot. Thank you very much :-)

but until today, i had yet to see the complete version.

Two years later - hello?

but he was busy with other more important things, so i wasn't going to hold it against him. I know he is true to his word. But the new stuff, very cool. Period piece with lots of CGI. Could be lots of fun...

And then we watched the famous Travesty. A fun little short film, until I saw the last 5 minutes, and some spots out of focus... FOCUS!?!

I didn't come down hard on him, but i said: "bro, you're kidding me. I know I shot more footage than that?!!"

"but bro - I was telling you: "Just do a master shot" and thank god you were shooting some extra stuff cause without that, we would have been doomed. And I was just telling people it was a stylistic thing - you know, like Arrested Development."

"oh my dear E. We are nowhere near being rich or famous enough to have the creative license to be able to pull out of focus shots for the sake of "style". This just looks like crap! Sorry, I know you have picture lock and are waiting on sound, but dude! It's out of focus!!"

Well, he conceded that it was not a good thing, and for my demo reel, it would not look good with out of focus shots, when I'm the one who has to be watching that everything looks good!

Well, for 3 minutes of film time, we worked 3 hours!!
how insane is that?! But oh I loved every minute of it! I just love editing!

"you are a storyteller, and editing is a way of putting the visual pieces of the narrative puzzle together to tell one single story. No wonder you love it so much - and you do it well...

So we decided to meet again - he will bring all his HDs and I have Final cut pro on my mac, and then to work on the final things - color correction, sound, but I think it will be a fun film. And I need to pad my cinema resume. I'm proud of my film one (it's almost 5 pages!!) but i need stuff that will pay the bills too.

speaking of photography, he still has that photo I gave him for his birthday once - the sculpture in new york. He says that it's one of his favorites.

That was a small joy today...

Since we met - from day one of the play, I always got along with the guys. They took me as one of their own. Literally. I was the "dude" and E's "bro(ther)". I love that - guys can feel comfortable with me.  Like the time E and P and I drove down to NYC for a few days, and than met Z. it was the Boyz night out, and I was the only one in heels (for that moment at least).

Oh good times.

I need to reconnect. I'm feeling so disjointed lately, and sleep? What sleep. 3 hours a night max. Pulled two all nighters in the past 5 days. I almost collapsed the other night, but boy, i slept like a rock. I had forgotten how nice a sold nights sleep could be.

3am and kinda jittery and kinda tired.

Happy as a pig in shit that i finished my intro trailer to my site. it looks cool (although, youtube is stingy on bandwidth - cause the images look all pixilated) but for somebody who has only known that program for a month, it's not bad at all.

So I've been telling peeps that after my surgical procedure from hell (back to back stuff. Euch.) I will need visitors as I will be out for at least a week, if not more, depending on what they find, if they find anything at all, so I will be taking people into my home, and into my life again. A new page, a new chapter, a new beginning.

back to the things that made me feel whole - film, photograph and writing.

"It's all good bro."

Yes, my friend, today really is...




Untitled from Kathy Slamen on Vimeo.

inconclusive

the MRI results - inconclusive...
they can't find anything that is out of the ordinary.

I think I'm gonna push for a PET scan, and the exploratory surgery.

The pain is incredible and I can't believe that there is nothing going on underneath the surface.

something is not right here and i need to find out what it is fast.

it has hampered the quality of my life. I can't sit, I can't walk, i can't move much.
I have become a prisoner of my own home.

and for somebody who is bipolar, staying indoors is NOT a good thing to do, especially during the winter months.


I'm slowly going insane.

I used to love to run, to go to the gym, to take long walks in the park, the crisp snow squeaking underneath my boots. Cleaning out the stale air from my lungs.

But that is become a chore. That has become almost impossible.

What next?

What next...


I'm pushing to to have my next surgeon's appointment pushed up from the end of March to an earlier date, but like with all doctors, their availability is limited to one day a week, and there are so many people who are perhaps even worse off than me who are also waiting...

Happy year of the Tiger.

Rip my insides to shreds, as if you are not already doing so...

Letting go...

“In the end these things matter most:

 How well did you love? How fully did you live? How deeply did you learn to let go?”

Buddha

Happy Birthday B

she would have been 89 today

Happy Birthday B.
I can't think of a more fitting tribute than to have your postcard and your story touch other people's lives around the world. For starters, you have already visited Brasil. Next stop, the town you came to call home...


A book about death


(click on images to see full size)

Front and back

Front

Back

Front - no back

slow cooker

I will be making irish stew today in the slow cooker e and I got for xmas.
Never had to take 8 hours to make/bake something, so this should be interesting.

Apparently no peeking cause you have to keep the juices in to cook it properly.
1 1/2 cups of Guinness is the secret recipe.
I'll tell you how it comes out.

and oi vey - the pain!
Relentless!
Actually so bad that it is keeping me up - wide awake at 3:35am...

MRI next week.
At least that...

emotionally, I am exhausted

Emotionally, I am exhausted.
I can't fight anymore. I have been waddling in and carrying too much pain for too long.

The anger has eroded away my life, and now, this broken container needs to be repaired and filled with happiness and love again.

that is all i ever wanted
that is all anybody ever wants

what was and what will never be
what will and what won't
was out of my hands
is out of my hands

exhausted, I am emotionally...

insane

the wind is whipping the snow across the streets like an rabid and terrified angry mob.

The sun is trying to peek through the thick translucent veil of luminescent haze.

Can you hear the muffled wailing through the wind?


the pain is unbearable.

the snow squall is beginning to slow down again

flash flood of frozen condensation

and my pain, it comes and goes, weakens and strengthens in intensity, not dependent on anything except chance and fate

the rhythms of the body and mother earth
different yet so much the same

the same
the same
yet different...

what does it mean?

All tests are back normal.
what does it all mean?
The pain is very real and is not going away.


Onto opinion # 6 this afternoon. So many doctors I've lost count.

Dizzy from the pain meds.
Woken up by the roof guys at 7am.
Sleepless night.



Found out from my friend that she is going back to her home country after 15 years of being in the city. It's sad, because we had that falling out, and she had called a few weeks ago to apologize. But then i got sick and did not get a chance to speak with her. She leaves for two months on Friday, comes back and then moves.

Kinda sad. We had a lot of good times.

I can't help but thinking of when she said: "Girl, we never hang out anymore. When we are 70 and sitting on our balcony knitting, we will say: 'oh we should have hung out more, ran around the city together.' "

and now i'm sad, because it is too late to get those days back. It's too late to go back in time and re-start from scratch. Sure, there is skype, but it's not the same thing. I feel as if I'm loosing not only a best friend, but a part of my family. That a lot of family to lose in one year. Very sad. Sometimes you just have to let go of things that could have been but won't be anymore. Hang on to the good times. That's what I'm doing. At least we had good times.

at least we had those...

seriously!?

r u serious?

I was selected as a semi-finalist in this contest!? Really?

I mean, really?

That's no small bananans cause there is lots of competition on this site.

really?

i think that is incredibly cool, and makes me smile despite the fact that I think i have a stalker.

I will be meeting some people next week for self defense courses. Seriously paranoid. Better to air on the side of caution.

seriously...

you are here...

Your truth, your decision, your best interest...

you are here...

Evil is the interruption of a truth by the pressure of particular or individual interests.


Alain Badiou






.

medicate me

after a week of the emergency wards of the hospitals here being my revolving door, it took me fainting from the unbearable pain to get admitted in the hospital (2nd time's a charm...)


Complications. Medications.
Waiting, waiting.

I feel as if I have been run over by a steam roller.
One week of blinding skin-ripping-open pain has exhausted me.

At least I've got pills, and was able to walk out of the E.R (well, wheeled out).

Close call indeed.

There may be complications down the line because somebody missed the diagnosis. Some things you just have no power over I guess. Not even your own body.

we shall see.
Rest rest and rest.

The painkillers are making me manic and induce anxiety attacks. Trading apples for oranges - mental pain or physical pain. Which is the lesser of the two evils?

i refuse

i refuse
so many things
so many ways
but i refuse
to betray myself

what i am, what i am not

Today, I feel fragile and worn.

Despite the wonderful news that I was 3rd place winner at the Art Festival in the Ukraine. Pretty damn impressive for something that i was not even going to enter.

They found me.
They liked my stuff.

I am a photographer.


Got another email from an arts company in NYC. They seem like a "vanity agent" - pay us 1000$ and we will put you in our arts magazine. I wrote to Bob in NYC. He's the man in the know and i know he has my back. I will wait on his advice before moving in on this offer.

I am not (that) gullible.

While posting my last batch of images on flickr, i found myself editing each shot. Don't put this one, it's not flattering. Don't add that one, your stomach looks like a soggy bunched up sheet of flesh. This one is too dark, too much grain and the blacks look muddy. Judgment is my biggest enemy.

I am a perfectionist.

A link from a fellow flickr self portrait artist threw the monkey wrench in my "best laid plans for accepting myself". It's 3am and still not sleepy. More wired than anything else, and when i'm wired, the buzzards swoop down into my grey matter and pluck at the veins that feed blood to my brain.

I'm not accepting sleep as an option.

E said that this latest series is one of my best. Sam on flickr also said the same thing: "You have reached a pinnacle of sort with your art". Wow. That is very cool. I am very happy.

I am learning to accept compliments.

So best laid plans led astray. Best intentions run amok. Self image out the window. The girl must not be more than 21. Her body, svelte, skin taut across her flat belly and perky breasts. No droop or stretch here. She was interviewed in a magazine that is an erotica online one. Very tasteful, but catering and by the under 30 group. Mostly women in this issue. And she is one of them. Her photographs are pretty. Moody lighting, sensual poses and come hither expressions. I'm jealous of her beauty, her youth, her ability to have the self confidence to show herself so boldly. What happened to me?

I am not jealous.

I am lying to myself.

What happened? Life happened. Cancer happened. Death happened. Mental illness happened. Why would a gallery owner in the heart of the New York City gallery district believe so completely in my self portraits? Because they are real. Not plastic, not fake, not perfectly staged. This must be my mantra. Realization of what the most important things in life are. I longed to be in his gallery, and two years ago, i marched on in with nothing but my big city set of balls and a few prints. That was good.

I am learning to take what is important and make that more important than the unimportant stuff.

I will not stop photographing myself.

I will become more forgiving of myself.

I will unconditionally love myself as i am.

I will not let them get me down.

what i am and what i am not
what i will and will not do




...

Perhaps...

The pain is excurciating.
If i didn't know any better, i would say that i was absolutely certain that something inside of my head, growing, expanding, squeezing out my brain, soon to spill out of the corners of my eyes, pour through from my nostrils, and push through my ears - will evolve from a rolling rumble into a trembling scream.

Perhaps it is this:

Perhaps for some people, in order to first find their passion they need to suffer, just to uncover what is of prime importance, and then the suffering itself can create emotional energy i.e. passion, which then fuels their work. 
~ Margot Hattingh


After a long talk with sis, sister of sis, and mr. fyst, i discovered that within myself stands a confused little girl, wanting everything in the candy store but not enough money to buy it all...


Or can i put it all on a store credit?


There is an inner torment. Twitches of regret for not having moved forward in leaps and bounds from many yesterdays. Disappointment in not having moved from wanting to doing. Yes, i have accomplished a lot in the past few years, but am i happy? Why not? Will i ever be?


Art is indeed suffering. The evidence is in my latest series of images. But i need to transcend that. I need to make my art something profitable. Something viable. At the same time, i need to stay true to the very essence that makes my work different from everybody around me. Unique from everybody else who wants to be a photographer, filmmaker, a writer. I know it's there inside of me somewhere.


As I stumble around like a newborn calf, rubber legs and wet from the womb, my eyes slowly adjust to the new feelings inside of me. One apprehensive step in front of the other turns into a trot, then soon, a gallop. Body free, mind at ease, the future - an open meadow.


Right now, the ground is moist from the morning humidity of uncertainty.
Eyes slowly adjusting to the possibilities of tomorrow, and learning not to fear today.

the final emails

so i did it.
Sent out my final emails to all three people in question.
It's 3am and i'm winding down. Finally.


went to mom's for an after dinner visit. My new galpal called and left me a message, wanted to know how things went.

I mean, really? How wonderful is that?
she called just because she wanted to let me know that she was there if i needed her. 

Well, i called, gave her the good news and told her that the feeling was mutual.
When I'm a friend, there are no conditions - except that you respect me because i respect you.

i was so moved that i was moved to write my email to my ex galpal to ask why she could not so much as send me a little text message. 3 little words - are you okay?

it was not brain surgery...


Long email to (ex?)girlfriend.

Done.

Asked questions - why? But honestly, I don't think i'll get any answers that I will like, but tried my best to not sound preachy, or accusatory (but when somebody does not call to know how your mother is in the light of our situation, how can you not accuse them of being insensitive?)

that was a huge endeavor, lots of weeping and anger, but it's all out now.


Worked on dad's email. Surprisingly enough, did not blubber through that one, but was more focused and determined to get my point across logically and in a concise and clear manner.  I guess there were no waves of tears because this ending was a long time coming. The disappointment had been forming a callus over the sore for decades. His reaction to the whole wedding debacle was outrageous. But i had to ask him the last question: do you want me in your life or not?

so that was sent to e for revisions in the morning.

3:12am

urgh. Need sleep. Will stop after this next paragraph...

and last but not least - an email to my other friend A. Told him that i wasn't attacking him (as many of us artsies so often feel when people confront us) but i was just disappointed and wanted to know why he didn't even call. not even a stupid facebook poke (i despise those things!!) and told him that i would go to the moon and back if he asked me, and even if he didn't but thought about it and wanted to, i would still go.

but that is me, and that was my email. With this one, i made sure that i left the lines of communication open and friendly (albeit disappointed, but still friendly).


done...

sent one last shout out to B in nyc. He's so cool. Told him that my mom was NED, and that i didn't want to leave him hanging without news (because my last email which i sent on Thursday was pretty bleak and despondent, on the verge of some kind of news, but at that point, seemed bleak, even though, in reality, now we know, that it wasn't).

And that was a good closing to my marathon email session. Ending off on a good note. Told him that i was so happy that i still had my little connection to nyc through him and the gang at the gallery.

At least someone cared, and that's what matters.
That there was someone.


my bed cares too, and i'm off to embrace it.

a round table of three

so i did it - shot the dreaded conference.

A round table of three doctors. That was it.

No audience, no other "press"

I opened the door, saw a table, three microphones, chairs and turned to E:

"Is this it?"

and so it was, and i was relieved.

Nothing is more stressful than trying to examine every aspect of what you are doing and trying not to look stressed when people are watching you work.

Hallelujah.

So i set up the room with two strobes opposite on the diagonal of each other. Very straightforward. Was planning to use an on camera flash but ditched the idea last minute.

90 minutes later, the meeting was over, i had clocked in almost 100 pictures and one of the doctors made a comment about how he felt as if he were part of a fashion shoot.

I thanked them all profusely for being so patient despite the endless pops of light that kept on going off, but assured them that I got some amazing shots.

And i really did.

now come the long painstaking part - processing those suckers.

Along with the city shots, i have over 350 photos. Gonna take a long time - days and nights, but for the cash they are paying me, it's an investment of my hours and effort.

But go figure - 55 days late and i got the bleed from hell.

So i'm trying to pace myself between looking out the window, procrastinating a few nanoseconds here and there, working my little mac into the ground and changing pads/tampons every 15 minutes.

Life is not that bad...

happy fragments - a memory of a magical night

I will have to do this in fragments

it's late, and oddly enough, past my new bedtime hour, but I have to take the memories where and when I can find them - so here they are, a few at a time.

Incredible - the weather, the place, the dress, the mood, the food.

ohh. the food was sooo good!

Memories - the Limo

And go figure, it was called the Presidential limo. No letter from Obama, but like mom said: "at least we got the Presidential Limo!" I hope somebody got a shot of me leaning near the crest making a thumbs up.

Lori could not believe how calm i was, and kept on saying so. I too was calm. Don't know how I did it, but I was. Even Ma. Neither of us cried (I don't think she did) but i was stoic, peaceful throughout.

Yea, I guess I rocked.

Dancing 

Remember at some point, Betty telling everybody to do the conga line - follow the bride. Remember looking back and seeing about 15 people waving their arms in the air - mimicking my steps. Too funny!

The ceremony

The superman blessing. How cool was that?

Seeing E tear up as he was reciting the vows. That took my breath away. How sweet was that?

Oh that had to be the best mass I have ever attended in my whole life.

That day, Fr. Gerry made us all see how cool God was...

Remember standing at the bottom of the steps, waiting for Scott, and looking outside and seeing Auntie Lilly and Uncle Stanley coming out of the car. Their fragile bodies slowly making their way up the stairs. That moved me so very much that they took the time and effort to come.

Walking down the isle - the British Airways commercial in the background on a Cassavant organ. Betty flagging me and my mom down - "Don't walk so fast! Slow Down!"

Me walking slowly, taking it all in, looking at all the faces looking at me, and then as I got closer, E looked over to me and smiled.

Sitting there, listening to Fr. Gerry talk about how he knew me, met eric, his connection to the Pols and Slovaks, the whole unity thing. He should be speech writing for Obama...

And then the vows. Facing the crowd. That was so new. I wasn't nervous. I could tell E was tho.

Still can't believe how calm i was. Don't know what came over me. And it was only .25 of an Ativan. Baby dose. And I only took it in the limo for backup; and in retrospect, I don't think I even needed it.

Our first dance.

That actually turned out to be no too painful. E was lubed up, but i was yet to discover the joys of having an open bar.  Perhaps it was a good thing he was smoothed - no counting and bobbing his head. Yea, I guess it was a good thing. We hit our mark on the end - photo finish. Everybody loved it. Auntie and Uncle told ma that we "were the new generation of dancers". Coming from two former champions, that rocked.

and I ended up wearing the shoes I wore the first time. The shoemaker made the others too big. A disappointment to me and E, but the other shoes brought us good luck. They were happy feet again.

The food - oh how awesome it was!

Really enjoyed it. But that whole Little Miss M meltdown at the table as E did his speech. Hmmm. Thank God E's joke saved the moment.

And the whole cupcake table - that was such an awesome job Anayiz did!! I hope lots of people took lots of photos of it!

And to hear how much everybody loved the whole get up - theme tables, the cd's, cupcakes etc. All that hard work, late nights were worth it.

The shoot at the park.

That was nice. Oh the weather was just perfect.

I had been terrified all the way home from the hair salon. Grey, cold, and getting darker by the minute. At one point, it even began to sprinkle, and like magic - the clouds parted, the sun came out, the temperature rose and as I stepped out of the house, into the limo - summer began.

It was so nice to walk around in the grass, the sun in my eyes, not having to worry that at 6pm, i would need a shawl or jacket (thank God we didn't end up spending 175$ on a shawl!) cause I didn't' need one anyway. Hope scott got some good shots.

Still kicking myself for not bringing my camera.

but I can't worry about that now, or let it drag the rest of these fond memories down.

Note to self: how often do you say after a concert: Oh i was so pissed off and disappointed they didn't play this song!? and let that leave a bad taste in my mouth? Can't do that now.

Must remember that out of 70+ people, at least 50 were taking photos that day. At the church, ti sounded like a press conference!!

Ooof. I am pooped.

must sleep, and hopefully to return refreshed with more happy fragments 2mrw.