Uh oh…. she’s in trouble ;o) *beat beat* My heart has felt the first powerful thumps of being in love once again… Though faint and unsure (he’s two years younger than me for Christ’s sake!), it is still more than I have felt in 2 years! I do wonder if I wasn’t some temptress in another life time and if I go through winter/summer phases. Looking back, it has almost been a pattern with my boyfriends: soft dark hair, warm penetrating eyes give way to crystal clear colors and sun reflecting tresses…. Needless to say, my attraction for his oh so chocolaty eyes and deep luscious locks are enough to make me lick my lips in hunger =oD ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

French writing

I don’t know if anyone cares or maybe you just like to type in French but the following keystroke list will aid you with accent marks for French words =o) J’éspere que tu l’aimes, à bientôt!

French Symbols and Accent Marks: made by holding down the key and number sequence

à = alt 133
â = alt 131

é = alt 130
è = alt 138
ê = alt 136
ë = alt 137

î = alt 140

ô = alt 147
ö = alt 148

û = alt 150
ù = alt 151

ç = alt 135
Ç = alt 0199

« = alt 174
» = alt 175

ANNNNND for fun (you’ll find a lot of combos with some playing ;o), some dingbats:

♪ = alt 13
☺ = alt 1
¿ = alt 168
♀ = alt 12
♂ = alt 11

Go ahead! Just punch in whatever number sequence your heart desires =oD

One more thing! The BANGS french mnemonic device stands for Beauty, Age, Number, Good-ness and Size when deciding on where adjectives are placed in relation to their nouns (in short, if the word fits into one of those categories, the word will go before the noun everytime). Some examples:

1) Le beaux garçon – the handsome boy
2) Une vielle ville – the old city
3) Il y a trois filles – There are 3 girls
4) Très bon travail – Very good work
5) Le grande hôtel – The big hotel

It’s just impossible to keep this pent up – MY BODY IS SCREAMING FOR RELIEF! What is meditation when your body is fighting for survival!? Many of you already know I refused chemotherapy because I felt the ends did NOT justify the means (ie: the immunity problems EVERYONE faces that I cannot afford due to being prone to pneumonia/Crohn flare ups, etc and the more long term ones such as early menopause onset and even permanent hair loss) – I’ve subjected my body to radiation (it’s basically cooking/frying your body willingly and dealing with far worse after effects but more heavily used for remission guarantee) and go through nerve blocks on weekly runs at a time. My life for over a year as revolved around doctor visits and only through the persistence of friends, have I desired to see/be seen. Fuck, somehow I’m a Miss New York/Miss USA pageant title runner and I can’t make myself FEEL true passion and excitement. I keep asking myself where that vibrant 15-18 year old girl went and sometimes, damn me, if I wonder she didn’t die back in 2001 and I’m the remnants… I keep so much to myself and grit my teeth, pound holes into walls/things and God help me, sometimes I fall to my knees begging for the courage to end my life. I’d rather look Death in the face than with my back turned and running scared. This is not living but the option of dying at someone else’s hands (a surgeon, nurse, a drunk, etc) is by far more abominable. Some of you have walked the last 6 years hand-in-hand with me and still, I know you do not know the whole story. My health is the bane of my existence – I remember how hard I had to push to before the fibromyalgia and I know I shouldn’t knock even what I have now: it really could be a lot worse. If I bow my head and cry, have I failed you? Self pity, any pity, has always hurt more than any illness/ailment and so, I cannot cry the tears that desperately escape my eyes when it becomes too much. If I died today, would I regret it? NO – I have experienced, had and accomplished more than what 90% of the world population will ever get…

My only wish is for you, my friend. My generation has fallen short of the mark but we can get out of this rut. We can still be the movers-and-the-shakers that marked the early half of the last century – it IS our time, your time. Perhaps, my only regret dying young is the inability to be in that fragile moment, to congratulate you when you reach one goal before you set out for another and another. I promise I’m still fighting but my heart weeps. I feel that I have failed all of my role models and support team – my teachers, parents, friends. You plucked me out of the group and drove all the promise of youth, dedication and intelligence toward accomplishment and recognition. It is my fault for not having better cared for my body and health but I would do it *all over again* for that unattainable glory =*o) Though I am now crippled, I know what it feels like to bring a congratulatory smile to SOMEONE ELSE’S face and to feel like the day was made for only you… If my hard work had not paid off so handsomely in the past, I do not think I would have had the strength to put myself through all this turmoil. I know that somehow I could be doing more but I am ashamed to tell you I have not yet fulfilled my promise of being someone important/celebrated who made it to the stars and beyond. The pressure cracked my body 7 years ago but I wasn’t ready to break. Do you still look up to me? I wish you wouldn’t….not until the day I can return something substantial for all the faith you put in me. Of all the emotions that have left my soul apathetic, I miss courage/anger/aggression (they were all the same to me) the most… I don’t even feel empty, I just don’t care what happens to *me* any longer. Who will take care of my parents and sister? Who will pick you up after a bad day/event and cheer you up until a better moment arrives? How do I die with honor and dignity?

Kurt Halsey

*note – I keep this blog for me when I’m too damn lazy to get out pen and paper/journal. Xanga comes especially in handy when I go off on little mind treks like the one which led me to KURT HALSEY.

http://www.kurthalsey.com or here is where you will find SOME of his amazing amazing work! I am no art critic (though all who endured HUM 10 with me would disagree ;o) and the visualizer in me instantly bonded w/ Mr. Halsey’s work. Heart wrenching, needy, romantic and reassuring all at once ❤ *!*SWOON*!* ❤ You look at his work and (assuming you’ve been in love, know love or heartache) feel the pull of days long ago =*o)

One of my favorite is “To hold and to be held” – it’s so simple and conveys much more! Makes me want to wrap my arms around a certain someone *ahem*

Another is “We waited so long, so let’s just be for a while” – totally describes meeting up with an ex-love and/or long-lost friend ::sniffle::

It’s a tie for third between “Our favorite songs (like worms tied) squirms and hurts, but we keep them close” (actually maybe his whole vinyl series!) and “For things to always be this way” – his short quotes coupled with imagery make me INCREDIBLY envious of his talent!!!

People tell me, more often than I’m comfortable with, what a great writer I am and how my works move them but all I want to do is what Kurt can: SHOW people what I mean ::sigh:: You don’t know me and I just found you but you have a big part of my heart, Mr. Halsey ^_^ Please, be gentle, tehehe!

I can’t wait until I have more than enough money to buy up his collections – already I’m behind and some works are exclusive :pout: (yes, I’ll finish up the ‘Nor’ bit! sheesh, I didn’t know the story meant so much to some of you!)

My Godsister, Nor

Well, this has been a long time coming – 16 months of procrastination (somethings aren’t new ;o) The weekend of March 17-19th in Los Angeles, CA saw to the completion of a 15 year old relationship between me and Norielyn Shum, whom I called my Godsister. No, the title does not exist – I completely made it up 12 years ago to describe how I felt towards Nor. She really was the big sister I never had. I met her at age nine when she was just the girlfriend of my Aunt Cherry’s son, Tony. From that point on, she took me all over the place and I was 12 hanging out with a crowd of 22-24 year olds – heady stuff (especially when they’re intoxicated and/or high). In a way, by exposing me to harder drugs, a tougher crowd and a darker lifestyle overall, I got a head start on what not to do, what not to succumb to and how to avoid it. The level of respect I had for her bordered on worship – Nor could do no wrong, had all the answers, was the strongest remodel (even if not a perfect one), etc etc etc Ergo, it would take A LOT to tumble the pedestal I built and put Nor upon and incidentally, it would be Nor who brought it down.

Because I held her in such high esteem, I agreed 3 months before March to fly with her to LA to attend ‘a workshop’ as she eloquently called it. It was December 2006 and I was on my way out of the hospital after a month long stay. I was really tired and emotionally drained by the information the doctors gave me – an ambivalent tumor growing in my chest for only God knows how long that needed to be removed ASAP (but no doctor in NYS will risk his license to operate on a 2% success rate surgery) and if left alone, gave me 12-18 months to live. I think we all would have banked on 18 but my blood tests for Crohn’s disease came up positive as well as a degenerative nerve disorder called RSD (in short, nerve damage to critical parts of my body). My body was showing accelerated breakdown (only being able to maintain a liquid diet) and major weakness. REGARDLESS, I said yes to Nor because I trusted her to take care of me if sh*t hit the fan and because I felt I owed her to be with her. I’ll explain.

My mother and I are identical – it’s really scary how so many people call out her name towards me and when they see it’s me (or I tell them I’m her oldest), it’s always the same comment, “You look EXACTLY like your mother did when she was your age. I thought I was seeing things.” Even our childhood pictures look the same (albeit the clothing/setting difference), facial structure, posture and attitude. Sometimes I joke that mom didn’t need Dad to make me – I look so much like her, we could have been from the same womb or she was touched by an angel who helped her ‘cough up’ (hmm, that doesn’t sound so glamorous) all the goods to make me ^_^ You’d think this would strengthen our relationship but it’s been the bane of our relationship – we CANNOT get along. We know exactly what buttons to push to set the other one off, the same temper, same finickiness towards food (only the best), same high standards for friends, loved ones and especially ourselves. With a royal break in mother-daughter communication, I would have been bereft of too much advice so crucial to defining one’s self through growth and exploration. That’s when Nor kicked it up full notches and became my guiding light through the rites of passage into adulthood/maturity.  In a 3 year span, I developed into a pretty dignified, socially conscious and moral 15 year old. Nor was my source for mental/emotional fuel and I really felt that some Force had driven us together for the very special connection few people ever have with another. This fondness and admiration for Nor gave me a sound foundation unto which I would build other friendships and relationships. Slowly though, I would shift that reliance onto myself as Nor spiraled out of her fairy tale (marrying childhood friend, having 2 kids, a home, secure job, etc) and out of communication. I would know before March 2007 that Nor was not everything I made her out to be in my mind and have to deal with the consequences. So, we take this choppy sequence into the following events.

Somewhere in late 2005, I knew something was wrong with Nor. She was despondent and though I missed her terribly (I was back at UB), I knew she needed my strength from 500 miles away. I kept calling once a week for 5 months straight, trying to get a story out of her for her depression, anxiety and anger. Through some sleuth work, I got wind that something was horribly amidst in her marriage. I knew from years back that conceiving might be a problem for her and as soon as she got married, she worked hard to get pregnant. It’s a lot of stress for any couple but Tony and Nor had a lot of history. They met in middle school at age 12 and being of Filipino decent, her father felt the only appropriate male company she could have would be Asian; Tony was the only Chinese boy in the whole grade! There began puppy love and by age 17, they were officially together. Through some fights, some time apart, Tony and Nor realize they belong together and I became one of their bridesmaids in November of ’99. Two years in, their daughter is born and another three later, a bouncing baby boy – my ‘niece and nephew.’ Somewhere, Tony lost the faith and cheated on his wife. Nor was furious, lost and taking it out on everyone in different ways, but for the same reason. It made me realize how much you put on the line once you get married and children get involved – it is everything! Nor has always been a proponent of people like Tony Robinson, Danielle Johnson, etc – motivation speakers though I didn’t know who they were or what they did at the time. She and Tony still have a long way to go to repair their marriage, but that’s another chapter all together. Right now, we’ll deal with where I came into the picture of the melee. NO, I was not the other woman!

As I had mentioned, Nor loves advice and self-help books/tapes and got into the motivational seminars as she and Tony went through marriage counseling. She discovered it as a way to ‘find herself’ and wanted to show/share the experience to/with me. I agreed to go to a Dani Johnson seminar because I thought there would be some hands-on knowledge I could apply to my life. My life being newly defined as a “pain management”patient until tumor removal-surgery. It turned out to be a business seminar where Dani just talked and talked and talked. Nor had just started a MLM cruise business and probably needed to hear that stuff. Me, I mean business has been in my life since I was 4 – it’s in my blood! Being bored, I called my mom’s Godmother’s son, Uncle Singer during a break and he met up with us later that night. It quickly became a night all too familiar – full of laughter, good vibes and memories starting at a Korean bar (soju!), escalating into Karaoke (where I got seriously hit on by 2 Korean lesbians but I was too intoxicated to pick it up before I was abducted but that’s another story, too ;o) and the now infamous fight/discussion.

Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy left me with no right leg function for 6 months, no left arm for 3 and weekly surgeries for 6-9 weeks every 6 months. So, I had to use a cane to get around and it caught too much attention (being newly 23, 106 lbs from the Crohn’s with a youthful face, the cane raised a lot of eyebrows and questions). A lady at the seminar pulled me from the line I was waiting on and sent me ahead of 1,200 people with the other invalids. Nor, still feeling the sting of abandonment, betrayal and pushing through insignificance, wasn’t happy with the attention I was getting (AS IF I wanted all the stares and gawking groups! I may have looked the part of a beautiful, twenty-something year old but I sure as hell felt like shit and just wanted to melt into the background) and didn’t know that I had been singled out (as opposed to me just cutting the line because I felt like I could in my condition which is more arrogance than I can muster on my best days!). She ignorantly says, “You’re using your sickness as an advantage.” I was too stunned to have an immediate retort – Nor’s pettiness and selfishness reared its monstrous head and began to chomp away at 15 years of respect. The fight continues into years of her own broken relationship with her mother (whom she felt had abandoned her, too and I knew everything had finally pushed its way to the top but she chose the wrong bridge to burn) and even confuses me because I know she’s trying to make some analogy but her rambling is just hatred. She kept tossing in lie after lie, trying to get a truth of out me but you can’t get the truth from a web of lies. Nor said she got my mother’s permission, my sister and then (her big mistake) my father’s to take me out to L.A. and ‘teach me’ which ultimately failed because nobody (poor Uncle Singer was mixed up in this) knew what she was trying to convey: her hurt over her failed marriage, hurt for past transgressions, fear of hurt in the future. My fault was listening to her and trying to untangle all her lies. I knew my father didn’t know where I was going, nonetheless WHY I was going, for the weekend. Her assumptions about my relationship with my mother were really outdated (we had patched up some lines), she didn’t know jack about the nature of my surgeries or medication, etc Her accusation that I was ‘addicted’ to my medication was ironic coming from a former drug user/smoker – who is she to say anything when she was doing things illegally whilst I am *prescribed* narcotics?! It’s NOT even fun!!! Morphine makes me nauseous, I’m actually allergic to the ’emergency pain killers’ and I have to take a schlew of other things to counteract other problems – on a daily basis I swallow 27 pills: DO NOT TELL ME I AM ADDICTED TO THE VERY THINGS THAT KEEP ME FROM LIVING MY LIFE! A tear (one single teardrop) fell from my eye during all Nor’s bitching – the only sign and commemorative to the end of our friendship. That one teardrop told it all – I had lost *all* respect and adoration for the one person who could have had it all…I should have cried my eyes out (like I have when I go through love break up’s) but the prior year had already prepped me for that moment, I guess. I knew Nor wasn’t what I made her out to be =o/ There’s nothing left to say, just like there’s nothing left of 15 years…