cathleen's place: Me

Over the years, I've been told by various people that I have a certain determination and purposefulness about me. I've been told I'm stubborn and hard-headed. My friends have told me that they trust me to always tell them the truth, that I don't pussy-foot around and make up shit just to have something to say. (Side story: Allison's name was chosen because I read somewhere that it means "truth-teller". When she was growing up, I told her the only rule was to always tell the truth. And she does that.) I believe that being honest and straightforward are very high virtues and that it's easier to live with others when the truth is always out there. That said, I know it's not always easy to hear the truth. I love being on the telling side but not so much being on the listening side. Oh well.

So I was a little girl once, but I don't remember ever being particularly carefree. I remember being vigilant and careful. It was great to have a big brother who took care of me as much as he did. I know he was having his own rough time and it's amazing that he was so gentle with others.

I'm grateful for everything that has happened to make me the way I am now. I value my strengths, try hard to admit my shortcomings, and work on accepting others for who and what they are (this is the hardest part for me).

I've read a few things recently that are all about how the world is going to hell, we're all going to die, all politicians and governments are corrupt and evil, and on and on, just miserable, depressing garbage.

If we all give up, if we buckle under this weight of doom and gloom, if we believe all the bad, bad, bad, then that is exactly what we'll get. There's nothing that says we cannot see the problems, know they're wrong, get busy doing something (anything) about them and maintain a cheerful existence while doing so. They are not mutually exclusive.

I'm just saying.

You probably didn't know that I was a famous film-maker. Well, that's okay, I don't like to make a big fuss about it. I'm sure if you're ever up at 3AM in some dive motel in Phoenix, you'll see the incredible, phenomenal, amazing, ground-breaking public service announcement I made for the National Forest Service. Yes, you heard correctly, THE National Forest Service.

The program I was in at Arizona State University was called Visual Communications Design. It was in the Design Science Department of the College of Architecture and was started by none other than Neil Miller -- the photography teacher, remember? For our final project, we each made a 30-second PSA for the NFS. There were 12 of us in the program and we each had an advisor from the Forest Service. We pulled the topic for the PSA out of a hat. Really. We did.

Mine was "Protect the Wilderness". Since I'm a movie buff, I immediately thought of two '70s classic sci-fi films that I loved: Soylent Green and Silent Running. I wanted to do something in 30 seconds that was as powerful as either of those movies. (They're both about what happens in the future when we've mostly destroyed the planet's ability to sustain life. And they're both awesome.)

Some day I'll digitize my PSA and put it here. It's kind of funny -- dated looking, but the message is strong: take care today because tomorrow it'll be too late. So original, don't you think?

This was the first time we didn't take a cab into the city from JFK. The city finally finished the AirTrain so travelers can save big bucks getting to and from the airport. After the AirTrain, we took the J train into Manhattan -- it's above ground all the way across Queens and Brooklyn and the Williamsburg Bridge, then it drops underground just as it arrives on the Lower East Side. Allison and Carl live two blocks from that stop.

This is the view from their balcony late in the afternoon, which is when we got there.

Pala Pizza Romano

That night we went out for the most incredible pizza we'd ever had. Al and Carl have these favorite places they take us, oooh, so yummy. This place is voted best pizza year after year.

So, this is part one of our trip. More later. Kiss kiss.

I've loved Kim all my life. I loved him before I even met him. And I knew the moment I saw him that he was the one I had dreamed of. He's been in my heart forever and will always be there.

photo by Donna Padowitz

I love him because he's kind and patient. I think I can be pretty obnoxious but Kim doesn't seem to be bothered -- he likes me the way I am, he loves me with all my warts. We've been married 13 years and he's lost his temper twice. That doesn't mean he isn't passionate, he just isn't an angry person. And he's never petty.

I love that he's so incredibly smart. Sometimes he shows me stuff about computers or math or astronomy and I'm just in awe. He understands a lot about the world and the universe and how things work. He loves to teach me new things; I know I can ask him anything and he'll know the answer or know where to find it.

Kim is creative and playful and intuitive. He has wonderful ideas about making a new life in Portland, what sort of house we'll build or make, the new skills we'll learn, like welding. He's constantly learning new things -- new programs, new tools, he just keeps growing smarter.
And he has much better taste than I do. I think he sees better than I do and I love looking through his eyes.

I love him because he's generous. He would do anything for me, give me anything I asked for. And he wants me to be happy. He gives me happy all the time. It just falls off of him, or beams out of his eyes. We don't argue (anymore). It's so fun to talk about something we feel differently about because we don't get upset when the other person disagrees. And once in a while, one of us is the proud owner of a new point of view, almost always a good thing.

Kim and I got married October 3, 1993. We had written out our vows, purchased rings, cut a boatload of roses from the neighborhood gardens (with permission) and we had some candles. It was just the two of us and after we'd said our vows, given the rings and lit the candles, we opened a couple of beers and giggled. A few years later, we went to a county courthouse and made it legal. A little while after that, we put together a small party for family and friends. It was very fun, very light, with good food, yummy champagne and a dark chocolate cake that said For Always on it.

And later that night, we danced.

Ever write a letter and never ever hear anything back? Or send an email and wait and wait and wait and wait . . .? How about leave a message on someone's machine but it seems to have gotten lost in the ether? Maybe you didn't really write, send, speak. Maybe you only imagined that you did.

This is my worst nightmare: unanswered communication. I believe that lots of people share my feelings about it. I believe that waiting for replies, responses, return calls, rejoinders, ripostes, retorts, reactions accounts for all mental illness. This is the reason people talk to themselves, why they replay what they wrote or said, over and over again in their minds, trying helplessly and hopelessly to figure out what they said that caused the other person to ignore them. Some people, a very few, can live with unanswered letters, emails, phone calls. Some people can just go on about their business, knowing in their hearts, that an answer will come or not, and they are fine either way. I'M NOT ONE OF THOSE PEOPLE.

It helps me stay in the moment, instead of worrying about the past or the future.
It helps me see my life and what's important to it and in it.
I like writing -- this provides a non-threatening way to indulge myself.
I love the idea of chronicling, not only my life, but others' as well.
Telling about my life in a blog is the most transparent I've ever been. But I will admit that it almost doesn't count because I don't know if anyone is actually reading it. It's not like I've been listed in the Blogs of Note column and scores of people are flocking to my blog. So the thing is, if people are reading it and not leaving comments, then I have the same response I would have if no one was reading it. If they read it and leave a comment, then I have a completely different feeling about it. I know that someone has seen me and I experience being seen. This is getting way too philosophical and metaphysical. I will likely have to pick this part up later.
It provides a creative outlet -- arranging posts, photos, links, choosing colors, fonts, etc.
I feel connected to something cultural. I haven't had that since the '60s and I was too stoned to realize it then.

This is a reminder. In case I ever take myself seriously again, all I need to do is have a look at this photo.

I vacuum my backyard.

Yes. I do. While listening to tunes and sometimes dancing. Yup. That's me.

I really am awful. I'm a holier-than-thou bitch. I know more about what you should and shouldn't do than you do. And I'll be happy to tell you all about it. It doesn't matter what the subject is, I have the answer, you don't. Here's an example: When I was part of the Cof$ (Church of $cientology), I thought anyone who wasn't part of it was an imbecile, too stupid to be bothered with. Now that the bubble has burst and I am free to see the scam, I think anyone still "in" is a stupid, brainwashed, numbnuts who deserves what they get (being scammed by a cunning, money-grubbing cult). I was aware of those feelings, each in their turn. I knew when I was "in" that other $cientologists felt the same way -- it was common to put down "wogs" (the word used by $cnists for unenlightened commoners) and pity them for their ignorance. I was especially good at it. Now that I'm "out," I feel no compunction about my distaste for people who still practice $cn. In my defense, I will say that I feel sorry for the people I knew well and had friendships with. I'm sorry they haven't seen the light and are still giving their hard-earned money (and it's not like they have lots of it) to those thieves.

I'm pretty much always on my soap-box. And my realization today was that it's getting really old. Who do I think I am? I act like I'm the only concerned, intelligent, informed human being on the planet, the only one who's trying to save everyone else. What makes it so much worse is that I smoked for nearly 50 years. sigh. And there wasn't one sanctimonious holier-than-thou asshole telling me to quit. It's an epiphany. I can relax. The world will do whatever it's going to do. sigh. This will take some getting used to.

What do other people do who feel strongly about something? Like the environment, or government interference, or Catholic priests buggering little boys? What do they do? Sit quietly chewing their fingernails? Try to effect change? And if they're trying to effect change, don't they need to get on a soap-box at least a little bit? Hmm. sigh. I obviously need to do some research. I welcome your advice.