Moving in the right direction...

Moving in the right direction.
That is the ultimate quest...






Life seems to be leading me into a bunch of different directions: film, tv, writing, photography, directing, traveling. I'm one person and despite the allure of all these different avenues, I think i might have to take one and stick with it. At least for now, but remain fluid and open to all the changes that are coming my way.


As always, Daily Om seems to have it bang on. So much wisdom. So much sense...


August 21, 2010
The Right Direction
Aries Daily Horoscope

You might not feel confident that your life purpose is on track which could make you feel uncertain about yourself today. If you can keep in mind that it is natural to question how your life is going, you may find some relief in your doubt. Taking the time to look back on your life – maybe by drawing a timeline on a piece of paper – you might be able to see the connections of your major life transitions more clearly. As you look at the things that have happened to you in the past, you may, for example, notice that not everything appears to be linear – that there have been some twists and turns along your path. Reflecting on these times and assessing what you learned when your life didn’t seem to be heading in the right direction today may help you to realize that these periods of time can actually be some of the most intense growing experiences.

Understanding that the road we follow in our lives does not always follow a straight line allows us to much more readily accept our life course. The times when things don’t seem to go our way can easily convince us that we aren’t doing anything positive in our lives. In actuality, it is these times that will be your best teacher today – for it is only when you are able to transform a situation into a learning experience that you will set out more confidently on a steadier course and truly evolve. 

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






.

door closed, window open

a day after the roller-coaster ride.
Shit. I am so completely exhausted. I was so exhausted last night that i could not sleep. And when I did finally manage to keep my mind and eyes from ricocheting off the walls and inside my head, whatever brief somnambulist respite was quickly transformed into a rabid marching band of chaos and cacophony.

I woke up, heaving and sobbing - sleep sobbing perhaps? it was strange. I had been crying in my dream, but it seemed as if the tear ducts had shut down and only the lungs and nervous system were in high sorrow/anger gear. Of course, what was going on was a direct reflexion on what i had been feeling all day - a sense of utter and sheer disappointment about the behavior of two so called "friends" who showed absolutely no sign of compassion or interest in my or most important of all, my mom's situation/diagnosis. Nothing. No phone call, no email. No signs of life. They were too busy gazing into their own butt holes to notice that the world around had kept on spinning.

I had been dumped - a series of "fuck yous" over the past 3 months. First, my head shrinker, who mysteriously fell into oblivion after my desperate plea for help email. He did, in fact, receive my phone messages because he called my pharmacy for a  new prescription two weeks ago. Perhaps a phone call to me was too complicated because it involved being human and actually listening to me and not giving medical information to a voice recognition automated telephone computer system...

then the other girl i met from the climate change thing. We got along famously, and I was all excited that i had a new friend (how girly kiddy is that?), soon to be followed by a "flush and dash" email. "You're really nice, but you have too much shit going on in your life right now that I can't and don't want to handle."

But all things considered, and in the light of what has happened with all the other "So called friends who care" in my life, that was an act of honesty that i really did appreciate. It takes guts to be honest these days, and to do so tactfully (she did apologize because she said that I "seemed like a really wonderful and fantastic person, but that the timing was all wrong..." was honorable. She does not lose brownie points for that, but rejection always hurts.

Then there was captain dad who erased my comment on fb without explanation (there really needed no explanation - actions here spoke louder than pokes) leaving me confused and deflated.

Then there was my so called friend of a million years. In retrospect, E said that all was wonderful on the friendship front when her marriage was falling apart, she miscarried several times, she was stumbling through difficult project and needed somebody's shoulder to cry on. Well, guess who exposed their broad scapula? But when she got married again, her 1st project was met with critical acclaim, she had a child and her latest project immediately began to bloom, i was only worth, at best, a three word email reply to a long one I had initiated.

A few days ago I had sent a sad email - reaching out for her support, and to be included in this "group" which, by definition, was broad in interest by definition, and asked to keep me and mom in her prayers, she replied unsympathetically and unapologetically barring me from her "club meetings" and then proceeded to flip the coin by saying: "but you can come to my other party" and "I gotta go because my child had figured out a way to use potty time to manipulate a shift in her bed time" so eloquently followed by "thumbs crossed" in relation to my mom's next day doctor's appointment.

thumbs crossed?

whatever.

But the general tone surprised, hurt and offended me.

The next day, I got nothing. No email. No Text message asking how things were going. Nada. It's not like SHE DIDN'T KNOW. She did very well, and in the past, was quite concerned about this mother and daughter duo, but I guess that compassion or concern was too much to ask at this point. Mrs. Superstar with the model husband, perfect child and stellar career on the rise.

flush and dash

then came my so called other friend whom I have done countless projects with, and have done countless favors for. I lent him my camera, which he broke into a million pieces (lens and body), has yet to pay for it, and most recently, introduced him to a new friend of mine who was instantly smitten by him and his work (rightly so, he is a mad genius) and has promised and was absolutely delighted to work with him in the future, did not get so much as a "thank you for putting me in touch with this person. I really appreciated you taking the time to put in a good word for me."

Nothing.

I was crushed. Felt like a chaperone the whole meeting. It really was supposed to be about us working as a team, but when that project fell through, my talent as a photographer and cinematographer was instantaneously dismissed and i literally faded into the woodwork as the conversation focused entirely on him.

awkward.

I had previously asked him to watermark my images when he put them on his site. He had previously agreed. But when i asked the question again that same day of our (well, HIS) meeting, he aggressively refused.

and it's not like he didn't know about my mother's appointment. I'm sorry, but not even a facebook message (which he seems to only communicate by these days). Nothing. No follow up, no fb poke. Nothing.

I was thoroughly disgusted.
There was no excuse for this. And I am considering cutting ties with all of the above. Why do i even bother to help these people out when they blindly walk all over me when on the flipside, i would shit down my own throat for them.

I'm too nice, gullible, honest, kind, weak, stupid.

but i can spend time beating myself up for my lack of spine, or i can acknowledge that i am a kind heart who cares, perhaps a little too much. But that is who I am. I have never asked for anything other than a little compassion and common courtesy.

And it seems that even that is too much to ask for from these people these days.

Dad - I have removed you as a contact from my fb account. It just hurt to much to know and not know what you were doing, and having you blatantly ignore me was more than i could handle.

that was a difficult task, but had to be done.
Next on the chopping block - ms. perfect I don't give a fuck about anybody except myself.

a short concise email - you are a bully. I have been afraid of hurting you. You are cold and don't blame your nordic ancestry for your lack of compassion and genetic disposition to be "reserved". No excuses. I was always there for you, without any restrictions. If the shoe had been on the other foot, I would have offered to come with you for support with your mother had you needed me. Without blinking, without wanting anything in return other than your friendship. You obviously have more important things in your life and our friendship is not one of them. You hurt me more than you know, and your blatant self centeredness in the light of somebody you "supposedly called a friend" to not even call to see what the results were is disturbingly disgusting and deeply selfish.

Have a nice life in your perfect little world.
When your world falls apart, and I'm sure it will one day, don't look for me. I won't even cross my thumbs or toes for you.

and lastly - my so called friend for the past 20 years. Yea, your life is shit, and you live at home at 40, people in the art community are trying to sabotage your career because you are the best and they don't like competition, but you know what?

Is your mother fighting cancer?

Do you have to live a gut wrenching week before her diagnosis to see whether she will live or die?

Do you have to deal with medications that are supposed to keep you from cycling out of mental control but barely keep you from killing yourself?

I didn't' think so. And what have you done for me?

Did you lend me computer/camera equipment you needed, borrowed it for two years, then gave it back to me broken?

Did you put me onto the right people with money and interest who are now falling at your feet to work with you?

I never saw that happen, not even anything remotely close to it. Well, my so called friend, a major overhaul about the definition of our friendship is on order. It's a two way street, not a one way racetrack where my back is the asphalt you burn your tire tracks into.

so shape up, wake up and realize that your friend is a true friend but who will not be trampled upon anymore. I loved and accepted you without conditions, but i need to put some game rules down. I have to look out for myself now.

Perhaps that is why I have been so sick as of late. Other people always come first. I'm always the last to help myself, if at all.

no more...

but then, a door closes and God opens up a window.

an old dear friend who i had a deep soul connection with moved down the east coast. We lost touch, but she came to my wedding. Well, we never really lost touch as the bond was always there, but on a spatial level, we were miles apart.

I emailed her a little desperate letter, telling her how much i missed her company and companionship. She emailed me back the next day, telling me the same. Welcoming me into her home any time i was nearby, and was keeping me and my mom in her prayers.

That was a blessing.

I got a phone call from a man who is now the manager of a huge 3000 sq. feet retail store affiliated with a festival I was a part of many years ago. He absolutely wants me to be a part of this year's festival and called to tell me to get my butt into gear and ship him some stuff. Without conditions. Open acceptance. Happy to know me and still hangs a (now framed) thank you card that i had sent him almost 4 years ago on his wall. "I see it everyday when i walk by".

That is a blessing.

The art festival in Morocco that invited me to show at their event, waived the 150$ per piece entry fee/promotion costs so I could still be a part of their festival. "I am an artist too, and know how difficult being an artist is. It is something i can do for you gladly. Welcome to our festival - for free!"

that was a truly a gift

and the gallery owner in NYC who believed in my art so completely, and who i was afraid I had lost contact with forever because i became sidelined with my mom and own health and did not have the time or energy to nurture that relationship replied to my email today. He came down with H1N1 flu, had been on his own personal hellish path and told me to "not be too hard" on myself and said that he was thinking about me and my mom, and that we would definitely talk soon.

a relief and a gift

and of course, the biggest one being my mom's clear diagnosis. NED. In the end, that is all that really matters. Love,  life and health of a loved one. Being surrounded by the people I love and who truly love me. E who is so incredible and supportive as a man and husband, my cousin 1000 miles away that still calls me "big HPK", and my mom. My beautiful wonderful courageous inspirational mom.

clean bill of health, new beginnings, fresh starts and an an open window.

Let the stale air out and let the sunshine in.

:-)

Buddhist Shmoodist or slavery to a pattern

This kills me...
It just keeps on getting better/worse.

Why do i even bother?
At this point, I don't even know. Perhaps it's a distraction in the light of the diagnosis of mom's scan this friday. Or perhaps it's the hopeless romantic in me who thinks that one day he will wake up and see that he has a daughter who is still willing to unconditionally welcome him into her broken heart no matter how many times he trampled and ripped it apart.

but this is getting closer to the final straw.

His post on fb:

Great debate I was in at my Tibet/Buddhism course here in Mt.Tremblant yesterday. Had a great workout this morning at the gym and now heading into St.Jovite for afternoon of Billard training from a pro in preparations on our every Monday nights league. No time for retirement!!!!!! Mimi working as usual with the Swine H1N1 vaccinations...

My reply/post

I had studied Tibetan Buddhism when i did my religion minor in University d must say that is a fascinating religion of pure, yet difficult doctrines for the lay man to follow. Practice is a long journey which requires much study and discipline. I'm very surprised that you are taking a course. Good for you! Perhaps of benefit to you (and to those that were once close to you) would be a careful examination and practice of the Six Paramitas as this is the path of the Bodhisattva—one who is dedicated to serving the highest welfare of all living beings with the awakened heart of unconditional love, skillful wisdom, and all-embracing compassion, but following this path takes patience, which is in itself is the heart of the Buddhist path which requires courage, patience, flexibility and intelligence. Good luck and namaste.

and when I went to check the next day if he had commented on it - he had deleted it.


Fucken deleted it.


I knew that it might rattle his cage and wanted this to be a litmus test of his continuing hostility towards me, all the while putting up this front that he is on the path to enlightment.

and he calls a treadmill a "threadmill".

Oh you have no clue how tempted I am to write:
"it's a TREADMILL not a Threadmill you douchebag"

but I am sitting on my hands to keep from typing it, for now...


but in the meantime, i might just post this in my status.

Just for kicks...






I stopped loving my father a long time ago. What remained was the slavery to a pattern.
Anais Nin 

letter to a doctor

Today, I was just so desperate.

Got a message from my G.P, that my shrink said he wanted to take my meds down by a huge chunk. I can feel the difference between 10-20mg, but 150 made me so nervous i cracked.

All the ooze just came spilling out.

It had to come out. I was rotting inside.

make of it what he will, but you know, this month being "mental health awareness month", it might be a good thing that this gets out.

Dear Dr. C

just got an email from my g.p who informed me that you advised I decrease my Welbutrin to 150mg from 300mg (i kept on forgetting to take the extra 50 mg because i had to manually split the pill, and by the time i did remember, i had started to get manic) and no Starnoc or Xanax.

I can honestly tell you that is going to be a big problem...

Since you are not at the office right now, i have reluctantly resorted to email because i think this needs to be sorted out very quickly. and apologize profusely for bothering you, but since we can't speak on the phone tonight in detail about this matter, i don't know what to do or who to turn to because I am so completely desperate, and if my mood gets worse, might have to make a trip to the emergency tonight.

I'm a) worried about going down to 150mg of Welbutrin. From 300 that is a HUGE jump for my system. And if the current 300mg is keeping me barely afloat on good days (in terms of depression), I don't even want to think what 150 will do to me. Those lows terrify me. I have tried to commit suicide in the past, and with those thoughts lurking close to the surface these past two months, would a huge decrease like that be a wise thing to do during this time?

and b) without Starnoc (with was the only thing that helped me sleep in the past, and i believe had been taking it while on Welbutrin approximately 3 years ago, and had taken it 6 months ago, and again on the night before my wedding because i had "an emergency stash) i don't see why it would be a problem now since i am still on Welbutrin, unless there is some policy about doctors giving prescriptions for getting medications over the border, or via the internet that nobody wants to tell me about directly, because up to now, i have not had any solid comprehensive answers as to why i can't take it now.

I find it beyond frustrating and infuriating that I should have to be penalized for not being able to get a medication that is readily available in the U.S but not here in Canada because somebody didn't do their job marketing it properly at the corporate level. I will call Servier Canada again this week, as well as the people at Wyeth (who are holding on to the patents but not giving information to if or when they will put Starnoc back on the market), but this time i will get all the names of people i speak to as well as everything i was told in writing (which was) "Starnoc was taken off the market - purely for marketing reasons", because when i explain my story, it seems to me that every doctor i tell thinks I'm full of it. I'm not a liar, just desperate to be able to get the drugs that help me get the sleep that i so desperately need.

as you know, Ativan and i do not have a good history. I skipped a dose one night and thought i was honestly going to die. And nobody bothered to tell me that going off "cold turkey" was equal to somebody detoxing cold turkey from alcohol or harder drugs. I had to find out the hard way.

It was beyond any word that terrifying can describe, and i never want to feel that way again. I don't want to have to take it (Ativan) on a regular basis because i don't want to be dependent on a sleeping pill, but the catch 22 is, if i need it, i will take it, but if i do take it for more than one night in a row I will have to keep on taking it because cold turkey or skipping a dose one night is not an option - so the only way to do so is to taper off. I want to take something only when i need it, and not worry about going "cold turkey" when i don't.

I hope that you understand my predicament.

And i'm not sure if I shared this with you, but, when i was on Ativan in the past, I had gone up to 2.5 mg (about 6-8 months ago ?) because the 0.5 mg initially prescribed stopped being effective. Right now, i'm up to almost 1mg. The pattern is sure to repeat itself, which once again, as stated above, the eventual outcome is not an option.

Immovane makes me physically ill, because the nausea from the metallic taste in my mouth last for 24 hours. And unless i take large doses of Trazadone (which recently, I have taken up to 2 pills a night), I feel as if i am completely stoned, clumsy, disoriented BUT not sleepy.

Sleep plays a big part in the regulation of my bipolar, and perhaps because i have not been able to sleep, has made me in turn, more manic. At this point, i am so completely desperate, I don't know what to do, and I'm sure it's not easy for all the physicians treating me, but I am so very terribly distraught right now, and with my mom's scan at the end of November, it's imperative that I remain calm, focused and be able to sleep, which will in turn, will allow me to be able to be calm, focused etc. If and when the cancer comes back, i can't afford for my sake, but mostly for hers, to be the one who needs an incredible amount of emotional support and/or physical care because i have had another meltdown.

And yes, I have tried yoga, acupuncture, meditation, hypnosis, Valerian root, Nytol, Tynenol PM, Benadryl , holistic/natural sleep medication, warm milk, bananas, turkey, Melatonin (which my pharmacist advised me against because of my thyroid problem), and have also asked her about SAM-E, but she also advised against it because i am on the Welbutrin and Lamictal, but aside from knocking myself unconscious, I don't know what else to do.

I will as of tomorrow, try to scramble to find somebody who will see me through the system for free because after consulting with my husband tonight about our finances, we simply can't afford to pay anybody through private practice. I had maxed out this year's limit with other "therapy/councelling/life coaching sessions" (at 175$ hour, and my yearly limit being $500) and since i am not working, or in any real shape to do so, unemployment has run out and welfare not really an option since we are "supposed to be making enough income" to survive, life seems at best, bleak. Over the years, I have been through the system many times. I know that after my first nervous breakdown some 21 years ago, the average waiting time back then was 3-6 months at best to see a doctor through the hospital. Honesty, I don't think that i will be able to last that long, (if not longer now) and that scares me, well, to death.

Once again, I apologize profusely for sending you this email, but i want you to know what is happening since you are following my case and do know me and my sorted history, but also because in my current state, am manic so can type quickly, and i can still type and weep at the same time, unlike talking on the phone - this needed to be told and don't know if i will be as coherent or in any shape to talk about this tomorrow.

If you would like, you can call me at home tonight.

I will take another ativan to try to stay calm, but 1mg will be tonight's limit, and i really hope that will be enough. If anything, my husband is at the ready to take me to the hospital if need be.

And tomorrow, I will be on a photo assignment from 10 to 1pm, and then away from 5-11pm, and Friday morning might be the best time to call me at home, but because i am (trying to) working with an organization that needs photos quickly, my computer is always on.

I'm attaching my mood charts so you can see what has been going on. In all actuality, October has been quite an uneventful month, and normally, that would have in turn, stabilized my mood. When things around me in my life get out of control, i tend to swing, but with a calm environment, my swings came out of the blue and have taken me completely by surprise and have terrified me.

Dr. C, thank you once again for your compassion and understanding of my difficult and complex situation, and once again, sincerely and deeply apologize for troubling you.

Sincerely,

HpK

ride the dragon

life has been chaotic these past few days and I have no clue why.

Usually, there is a direct corelation between my mood and what is going on around in my world, but lately, things have been, well, quiet. Non eventful. Mom saw her doctor who is sending her for scans in November (our little 3 month window has opened up wider for a few weeks), but no real "news". A follow up of sorts. So there was no real reason to get anxious.

but i am, and it's rough.

I have not swung this high or low in many many months. I'm thinking back to maybe a year, or two? And I'm not even taking the extra Welburtin that the doc prescribed to me. I don't even want to think what that would be like. When i tried it two years ago, I was flying into walls, and if i decided to augment my dose now, i might fly off of buildings or bridges.

so i try to put one foot in front of the other but I can't help but to be very nervous that at any moment, my manic instinct will kick in and i'll be running in the other direction, well, actually, with no direction in particular, in circles perhaps, until i collapse into a heavy weeping mess, looking to get lost in the spaces between horrible thoughts of suicide and exalted grandeur.

last night, I happened to stumble upon the movie - Control.

I had watched the whole film about a year ago, and it still affects me deeply. An instant vivid snap into a time in my life when death was a welcome respite from the exhausting whirling orbit of fear and elation that i lived every moment of every day for months on end. The fact that it is so breathtakingly beautiful to look at did not help to pull me away from not watching it, but as a result, i regressed to the tender age of 16, when life should have been full of promise and possibilities, but was devoid of life and hope, and where suicide was the only path to calm and rest.

15 minutes was all it took, and time began to warp.

And what i find odd was that my regression into these dark memories began during the point in the movie when the band is actually doing quite well; their career is taking off, interest in their music is growing, and the young men from Manchester are still filled with hope and optimism.

Just like i was once, a long long time ago.

"you know, E, the thought of suicide is never far enough in my brain. It's always "this" close to moving into the liquid plasma of my current existence. It's never far enough, and that scares me."

i silently wept as he lay on the couch. He was too buzzed after a night of jamming with the guys to truly grasp what i was saying, and I am not angry at him for that; it's the exact opposite - I feel sorry for him that he has to live with such a ticking time bomb.

when i was 16, Ian Curtis' deep oily crooning of life left unfinished resonated with something almost primal in my soul. Beyond the words, beyond the tempo, a mysterious and macabre comfort connected me to him. He got to complete what he wanted to end before i did. Each song is a testament to this.

Sometimes i am thankful for that, sometimes i envy him for beating me to the finish line.

5am and my letter to a friend in a gallery in New york city

September 21st, 2009

From the desk of hellophotokitty...

20

Hey Bob,

it's been a long long while.

How have you been?

well, so much has happened here, i wouldn't know where to begin, so I'll give you the condensed reader's Digest version (or at least i will try...)

mom's cancer has come and gone, and come back again. Her ordeal has been nothing short of unbelievable. When I tell people about this story, they often shake their heads and say: "ooh, she must have had some bad karma". Fuck Karma, blame it on genetics. Bad genetics.

As i think i may have told you, it started off with her skin cancer, followed by a year of interferon. Then it came back - spreading to her lungs. A serious operation which left the experience of being in one of the city's apparently foremost cancer care research center/care facility equal or greater than having your fingernails slowly pulled out one by one, while having them dipped in a vat of iodine for hours on end. An anthropologist friend of ours visited her during her stay. "I've been to Ethiopia and and some of the other poorest parts of Africa. This hospital is about as close to a third world country on this continent as you can get". So much for our shining healthcare system...

So we had hoped she was in the clear, and for a while she was, until a few months later, the cancer came back onto another spot in her lung. Her options? Let the disease run it's course or try the new immunotherapy treatment called IL2 - Interlucan 2. Simply put, the last ditch effort at cancer, and as brutal as they come. Many patients have to be put into intensive care during the rounds and some even die. Mom made two complete rounds (1 week on, one week off, x 2 - and then times another two a few months later). And a miracle of miracles - the tumors had not only shrunk, but disappeared. A medical miracle. But it took its toll.

She was well for the Wedding (yea, E and i finally tied the knot after 10 years. I had to wait a decade. He's a little slow sometimes, but has a good heart...;-) which was the most important thing. She got to walk me down the isle and do the whole mother daughter thing every mother wants to experience. It was simply the most wonderful and delicate moments of my life. And everything was perfect - the day, the weather, the food, my dress, my hair, except my shoes. E trampled all over those during our first dance - a Foxtrot, which we had spent months practicing. Well, at least they weren't more than the dress and we did manage to look good on the floor.

So honeymoon to Cuba which was another dream come true. God bless Castro - he managed to keep this pristine gem of an island unspoiled and overrun by tourists and MacDonalds corporations, but now it's anybody's guess how long before you can smoke a "Cubano" cigar with your Big Mac...

We get back and two weeks later, find out mom's cancer has come back. Again. In her small bowel and intestine. Invasive surgery pronto. She is healing well now, but once again, through the jungle belly of The General Hospital which we have come to know and love (and the food, paper pulp and glass shards have more taste than the shit over there...) she managed to overcome great obstacles, but at what cost?

All of this cancer battling has done a number on all of us. It's true that cancer touches everyone, not only the people who suffer from it. Personally, i have literally gone underground. Hiding in dark subway stations, people's basements and if i go any lower, I'll be sitting in 5 feet of dirt. But there is a strange thing going on. I have shut off my "art valve". My creative spark which once propelled me to fearlessly bare everything (literally), and march into New York City with an attitude and some hot pix into your gallery, has now all but died out.

I play your wise words over and over again in my head: "you gotta pick one thing and stick with it, be it photography, writing or cinema." Well, i have tried all three separately to varying degrees, but it has been tantamount to shitting out the North tower of the world trade center. I have never felt so constipated creatively in my life. I have put down the camera, taken up the pen, put that down to fiddle with a video camera, but nothing. And it's freaking me the fuck out.

Hmmph. This what is now looking like to be a long letter, but i will try to refrain from babbling...

How do you do it Bob? How do you keep fresh in the midst of life's setbacks and crap that gets thrown to us on a daily basis? How do you weather the creative barren dusty death valleys when you are lead into them by blind faith or perhaps a sadistic form of deliberate bad judgment in map reading of rugged territory? Do you think that we "need this" to define us or our art or both at the same time?

I have spoken to my other "artist friends" and they say something along the lines of: "oh it will pass" or the sappy: "you'll find your muse/spark/purpose soon". But what happens when you don't? Bob, I have seen your art. It's intense, vibrant, chaotic, fearless and fearful at the same time. I have a funny feeling that you must have gone through some serious shit in your time. Some serious shit that must have also brought you to the brink of a creative meltdown. What made you turn around? Or have you even turned around at all?

Sometimes I get sentimental about New York and look at the post card from your gallery, the show I was (and still amazed at having being) a part of. There is a side of me who mourns for the loss of this ballsy in-your face "i am woman hear me roar" person. And part of me wonders where the hell she has taken off to cause i know she's around somewhere. Or is she?

I guess I'm writing all this to you because i know you understand me, and the complexity of my artistic process as you have been witness to the genesis of many of my pieces. I don't want you to think I'm asking you for a psych evaluation here, (if i were doing this in person, then i would at least take you out for dinner first), but i just wanted to touch base in my own quirky outrageous vulnerable way.

Perhaps it's a rusty pipe dream, but i hope that one day, after all is said and done, and i manage to shit out an earth shattering piece of work that will give everybody who sees it a boner that will last them a lifetime, that it will hang in your gallery (not the boner, but the piece of art, although a hanging boner framed and put under glass is an interesting conceptual piece that i might just run with...). Well, stranger things have happened.

It was not too long ago that i came to New York city for the first time and was almost literally laughed out of the Art gallery, and then I blinked again and there i was, naked and under glass in your gallery, hung in a primo spot (and with a couch no less. Did I ever thank you for that prime real estate spot you bestowed on me? Well if not, so many belated thank yous.)

I find it odd how I have held off sending you this letter for a long while. Perhaps I felt strange not sending you something "new" from the hpk photographic factory of debauchery and insanity, but keep hope that somehow, somewhere i will pick up my pretty picture machine again. And when I do, you can be sure that you will be the first fucken person in the whole wide world to know about it.

so on that note, I will close this letter.

I have chosen to turn this into a letter letter rather than email. Guess getting back to my creative roots, back in the days when a pen, typewriter and a piece of paper was a civilized way of communicating to the outside world , makes me feel a little more connected in an often disconnected world.

And oh yea, I'm giving you a copy of the "gift cd" I made for our wedding guests. From a to z - did everything on it. But as much as I would like to take credit for composing "fly me to the moon" for Old Blue Eyes and other great swinging tunes as well, I'm happy to say that I'm still a retro queen at heart and pretty creative with the graphic design ideas.

Take good care of yourself Bob. Give my love to Seb and Mari and then save a little for yourself :-)

And thank you for everything, including looking at/listening/reading my stuff, but most of all, believing in me and my art.

Hpk

what do you do?

what do you do when the love is gone?

when there is no passion, no spark, just jealousy?

Anger, disappointment?

When the one that made you feel whole, alive now makes you long for the past?

What happens when those memories are too painful to relive, revisit?

I am seriously considering selling my camera.

There is no joy in my photography anymore. There is no excitement, no reward.

A craft that i once attributed to saving my life has now become my poison.

It's so sad. The feeling is bittersweet, as if i am saying goodbye to a lover who has been my secret confidant. But I must move on.

Every time I hear about people around me, people who i know getting all this attention for their photography, a weekend hobby and a shitty 80$ digital camera, that makes me sad. I spent years on the craft. The art. Somebody just comes along, shoots off 600 images, and yes, because the law of odds allows them chance, get a good shot out of the bunch, be praised and honored - makes 10 + years of study, toil and tears jump out the window.

There is a big difference between somebody who personally invests in their art, the creative process, and people who are just bored, curious or lazy. I'm tired of fighting. I have done enough in the past few months to last ten lifetimes.

But i can't help but feel a deep sense of loss, abandonment, fear.

When i come back from camping, i'm going to put my camera and equipment up for sale. The money i make from it could go far in getting me a ticket to Europe. Perhaps to Greece. I need to make a profound change. I need to cut out my own psychological cancer that has been ravaging my body for some time.

Thank you photography, you have been very special to me, but now i must move on.

I no longer recognize you anymore, and that's a pity.

swelling etc...

got to see the doc today - the swelling in my armpits has continued. It comes and goes, but it's been around for a while now. And then, this morning, the swelling under my chin, near my neck.

I have been losing my memory - forgetting little things, words, places, spacing out.

My joints have been aching - something terrible.

And peeing. So much peeing. No burning, just urgency and frequency.

so many symptoms, so many possible diseases.

I'm trying so hard not to think of worst case scenario right now. I don't have the energy, but when i saw the look of concern on my doctor's face this afternoon, i could not help but wonder.

so off to see stomach doc 2mrw, and blood tests for regular doc on friday.

I'm hoping that my vacation next week will be trouble and dire news message free while i am away...

a letter to a friend with news on mom and reflections on the "c" word

I have to make this short, it's been a long fucken day

Surgery went well - they got the shit out - including her appendix.
They are pretty sure it was the cancer coming back - she said something weird: "I might have to retire - the cancer is aggressive, and it will come back again and i'm okay with that..."

Every time i hear this it makes me think of resignation

"Yea, but your tumors - the others that they thought were the "end all of your life - the last batch - shrunk and disappeared..."

"yea, you're right..."

Its so hard to be fighting for her.

I know that i will have some fighting of my own to do soon too. It will only be a matter of time until I get something to do with skin cancer - my chances are now up to 85% that i will get it in my lifetime (it also runs in families) - both parents with cancer, the shit that is up with my cervix (they found abnormal cells - see the doctor in september...) if something happens to me, i won't be able to take care of her...

fucken hell. the mind is starting to spiral again.

not good.

but i don't have cancer yet, and she is on the road to recovery, but i can't help but have all this shit hang in the back of my mind all the time....

anyway sweetie - sorry to sound like a downer.

I need sleep - long day today followed by another 2mrw.

It's so hard to be positive when you are so tired.

Why is that so?

If being happy takes so much effort, how can being happy be a good thing?

Doing my silly monologue thing.

Dangerous when i find myself starting to sound like Carrie Bradshaw mind melting with Camus...

and so the saga continues...

I don't know what to say...

I was beyond "floored" when I got this.

E and I had just come back from an AMAZING vacation in Cuba (God, I love that place) - sun, sand and good times. We were both well rested (it took E a big longer - he actually had two conference calls, or attempts at conference calls - not to mention that my cell bill is going to be over 500$ for sure, and only really began to relax mid week) and came back refreshed and tanned. We had never been on vacation together before - never a "real" vacation that didn't involve camping or "rolling work into a vacation" tip, so this message was such a ice cold welcome back home.

On shitbook, unless somebody creates a "subject line" for a message, only the first few lines appear in the "from" line. So there I was, all excited about this nice note from dad, which quickly turned into sobs of anger and frustration.

Seriously - what the fuck?!

I suggest that you read the following entries to really get the gist of what is going on. After you read part 1 and part 2 you will have a new appreciation of how confused I am as how to reply.

HPK,

Your wedding was a dream. Your beauty and E's personality were the tops. The location and setting were "A" class and once again I congratulate the both of you.


Something was out of line and hit me hard. As I was not any part of your wedding, I wondered why..... was I invited.


I have to express my deep hurt feelings as I felt so much like an outcast.


No pictures of you and I were taken. Not even one.

I was not even part of "The Family Reception Line " to meet all of your guests. At that moment...... I felt like leaving......, but decided to say as I had to much respect for your wedding day.


Your comment to me on the reception line "THANKS FOR COMING" as if me ...DAD, was considered as a GUEST. That hurt ..the most.


Not once did you come personally to see your Dad and talk for a bit.


I refer to my email of the of March and your reply in which both our us had suffered enough over the past 30 years and the mending time as GROWN ADULTS were in process and turn the pages of the past and begin a new loving one as Father and Daughter.


I was hoping for this change to be and you had a chance to mend things together at your wedding...... obliviously it was far from your process and now I realize the true picture.


30 years is a long time to carry a grudge , and life must go on through many more tough hurdles and ever so passes by so quickly.


You made your choice and I accept your decision to keep your "Father of the Bride", regardless of the past, out of the pictures on this truly special daughters marriage occasion.


So...... as I now will turn another page in my life with you, I wish the both of you Happiness.