Slow Art

Following up on my determination to find out more about Alameda, I checked out the calendar on Alamedan.com.  It turns out that 4/27 is Slow Art Day.  Color me intrigued.  Is Slow Art creating art slowly, like the slow food movement?  If so, I'm out, because I'm a writer, not a visual artist, like my late husband.

I poke around the site and there seem to be two rules -- look at one piece of art for ten minutes, then go to lunch to talk about what you saw.  Both of those rules seem well within my skill set.

I clicked on the link to find that over 252 venues world wide are participating in Slow Art Day.  The last time I participated in something on that scale, it was the release of the last Harry Potter book (and proud of it!).

First on the list of participating locations is Aberdeen, Scotland.  Third is Alameda, CA.  I feel so international all ready.  Although I wish I could go to Aberdeen, this year I will stay close to home and travel 1/2 mile down Lincoln Avenue to the Frank Bette Center for the Arts.  If this year goes well, maybe next year in Aberdeen!

I've been wanting to go to the Frank Bette Center for the Arts every since I moved here.  I support art and artists, but have not yet found the time.  Perhaps after I'm done looking slowly I can take a gander at the gallery and the outdoor garden.  This sounds like the perfect opportunity.  I register as "Commitment to attend" since the event is free here (although other locations seem to require payment).  I enter my name and email and Boom!  I'm registered.  So this Saturday, from 10 - 2, I will be doing the slow art thing.

I've been asigned a volunteer host who will help me out.  Evidently, there is pre-assigned art to view.  I assume this is to facillitate the discussion at lunch afterwards -- it will be a lot more interesting if we all slowly looked at the same pieces of art.

They've asked me to spread the word, so I am doing so now.  There are locations in SF (Legion of Honor and SF Moma and three locations in Oakland, for those of you interested in wandering farther afield.  If anyone want to join me here in Alameda, I'd be delighted.  This Saturday.  Let me know if you want to go. 

I'll be posting about the experience here and would love to see your comments.  Has anyone done this before?

GoT Overload

That's Game of Thrones Overload - not Got Overload (like Got Milk?), although I am enjoying the double-entendre.

Recently my cable company opened up On-Demand to show Game of Thrones and Downtown Abby to hook people so they would then pony up the money for HBO.  I happened to be really sick that week and  I watched two seasons of GoT in three days.  Awesome!  Engrossing!  Fascinating characters, snappy dialog, plots thick with intrigue!  Damn you, cable company, I got HOOKED!

I posted on FB, hoping to find someone with HBO who was also hooked so I could invite myself over to watch every week.  I planned on offering my brownies as bribes (I'll bring delicious brownies if you let me come watch...). But alas, no response.  Did I cave?  NO.

Because, I READ.  Yes, folks, before there was the HBO series, there were books, but the same author, with the same story line and the same characters.  Imagine that!  I was jonesing to find out what happened to Tyrion and Arya and Dany, so I pulled out my Kindle and, just like the ads on TV, had the book in my hand in 30 seconds.  Oh joy!

I started with the third book (A Storm of Swords), which picked up where the 2nd season left off and started racing through the chapters.  The third book in the series introduces a few new characters, but is set mainly in the same places as the first two seasons, so I easily picked up the narrative thread and devoured the book.  Still recovering from the illness, I dragged myself home from work, crawled into bed, and went off to Westeros.

From my recent Advanced Writing Workshop (shout out to Linda Watanabe McFerrin), I admired the way each chapter is it's own short story, with an intriguing start ("The invitation seemed innocent enough, but every time Sansa read it her tummy tightened into a knot."  "He woke to the creak of old iron hinges.") and bang-up finish.  Then you jump to another character in another corner of the universe and the first line is so intriguing you get sucked in again. Great writing, great technique. Very hard to put down.

I must say, however, that I'm glad I started with the HBO series.  There are a LOT of characters and having seen actors in the roles, it made it a lot easier to keep them straight.  I finished the Storm of Swords in a week (I read freakishly fast.  According to the Kindle, it's print length is 1216 pages.)  No problem!  Back to the Kindle store and in another 30 seconds, A Feast for Crows is available for my reading pleasure.

I jumped in eagerly, but started getting bogged down.  This book introduced a lot of new characters, and by introduced, I mean described them, explained where they were from and the entire history surrounding their tiny part of the world, sometimes going back centuries.  And religions!  Fire ("the night is dark and full of terrors"), Water (the drowned men), the Old Gods (trees), the New Gods  (The Seven), then the holy place where Arya finds herself where all gods are One. Some of my favorite characters became minor actors while these new characters took center stage.  We followed Brienne, the Maid of Tarth on her ill-fated search for Sansa Stark, which was by-and-large pretty boring.  George (R. R. Martin) is really, really into details in this book.  Or maybe it's just the slew of new characters.  The plot stops at the 91% mark, and the remaining 9% is list upon list of characters, separated by House, with info about the houses thoughtfully provided.  Still, I slogged through and followed the plot lines, hoping that more Tyrion and Arya and Dany would appear.  But no, just a lot of Brienne, Jon at the Wall, Bran being carried by Hordor, and Jamie Lannister, whose golden luster is wearing off.

Wanting to find out What Happens Next, I went back to the Kindle store and got A Dance with Dragons, thinking that Dany would finally get to riding her dragons, and THEN, boy, some interesting stuff was going to pop!  But alas, a lot of this book was also full of boring details, and I found myself paging quickly through most of the book without reading.  A whole NEW set of characters, three slaver cities, all with people and history, a long sea voyage for Tyrion (boring despite the storms), and Dany going about the boring task of ruling, when she should be out riding dragons.  I sped through the book, skimming to get the gist of the plot line, and was disappointed that nothing was resolved at the end.

A trip to Google assured me that the 6th novel in the series will be out this summer.  I'm hoping that there's a lot fewer new characters (we have enough history already), a lot fewer descriptions of traveling (boring) and a lot more plot (pretty please).  George has promised two battles, one North by the Wall and one South in the slaver cities.

Even with the overload, I'm anxious to find out what happens. These are really fascination books, well written and take me to a place I've never been.  I feel the cold at the wall.  I feel dirty and cold when the characters ride through the rain.

But what I really want for Dany to take her dragons to the Wall and waste all the Others with their fire.  Alas, it looks like that is going to be a good 2,500 pages away.

Authentic Being

I have a like/hate relationship with Face Book.  I've reconnected with old, dear friends with whom I'd lost contact (Annie Leung, Jill Williams, Susan Oldland) and found some great pages (I Love it When I Wake up in the Morning and Barak Obama is President, Thug Kitchen, I Fucking Love Science).  On the downside, I have to wade through ads; first it was ads for things my friends 'liked' and now just random sponsored ads. Dr. Oz must be making a gazillion dollars based on how many times his ads show up on my feed.

But there are moments that are wonderful and connecting and transcendent, like this one, which I like so  reprise here.  A FB friend posted wondering why some people had unfriended her after she posted a photo of one of her art pieces -- a non-offensive, delightful piece made of waves of color.  This is a theme I've heard often over the years, and have wondered it myself on occasion.  But then I moved to Chico for a job, where I connected with only two people (who were also new to Chico), felt very, very isolated, and spent half my time there trying to figure out how to make friends.  Finally, I realized that was never going to happen, not because of who I am, but because of who they are.  So here's what I commented on my friend's post, with a bit of expansion (because I'm not typing on my iPhone):

"Fuck 'em.  If there's one thing I've learned in the past dark years it is:  not everyone is going to like you.  And a lot of times, it's not even about you, as strange as that sounds.  It's about who they are and what they need in their lives at this specific point in time.  Someone told me there are friends for a reason, friends for a season, and friends for a lifetime.  So people come and go.  A lot of people left my life after Jeff passed away and I was no longer throwing huge and wonderful parties flowing with wine and party favors.  Those were friends for a reason (gluttony :-) ).  I was hurt initially, but now find I do not miss them at all.  In the flow of life, they have been replaced with people who enjoy my company, even if it's just a phone call.

So now I work hard at being my most authentic self.  I have people in my life that love me.  I conduct my business transactions with integrity.  And that is enough."

My Last Seven Years by the Numbers

During my recent bout of illness (nasty cold that lasted 6 days), I spent a lot of time thinking about my life, especially the last 7 years, since it has now been 7 years since Jeff passed away.  A lot of numbers turned up.

I've lived at:

6 addresses
5 cities

I've had:

6 phone numbers
5 jobs
2 beloved pets die
2 deadbeat boyfriends
many deadbeat friends

I've lost:

most of my possessions
many deadbeat friends
all of my money
contact with a few good friends

But!  In that same amount of time, I've accomplished the following:

Completed one book (Oops! You're Dead)
Won National Novel Writing Month (wrote 50,000 words in 1 month)
Started a blog, then started it again
Wrote some poetry
Learned how to budget and live within my means and I'm paying off my debts
Learned how to cook healthy meals
Started exercising on a regular basis
Learned how to replace prozack with gratefuls
Found one excellent boyfriend (we have our 5 year anniversary in July!)
Maintained more solid friendships than most people have in a lifetime
Completed an Advanced Writers Workshop and started a new career as a writer
Got my software development career back on track (this is how I earn my living, the writing is what I do for joy)
Found contentment

So I enter this new phase this Spring with a light heart and a lot of hope.  I will have to find a new job in 4 months (this is a contract position), but other than that, my life has stabalized. I'm home, among those I love, in an exciting place where lots of exciting people live and lots of exciting things are going on all the time.

I'm very thrilled about the prospect of what I can do in the next few years if I'm not spending energy in crisis.  If I can accomplish all this with all the craziness of the last 7 years, just think what I can do using that energy for new, creative and exciting endeavours!

Here's to the future, and living life to the fullest.

Back on The Blog

I've been gone for over a year.  I noticed my last post was on the 6th anniversary of Jeff's death, and now I've passed 7 years.  A lot has been shifting in my life, and I've not taken the time to document it.

The most important shift in the last year (besides my glorious return to the Bay Area!) is my finally seeing myself as a writer.  Which is why I'm Back on the Blog -- if I am a writer, then I should write, as often as possible.

I completed National Novel Writing Month last November, writing over 50,000 words in 30 days!  I had the seed idea of a novel growing for a couple of years, and had wanted to do NaNoWriMo since I first heard of it in the late 90s.  But year after year, live would intervene, and so last year, I set aside therapy and a few other things, and started writing.  I ended up with a sweeping novel that will eventually be broken into two or three separate novels, about finding ones' self in mid life (your late 40s).  I took December off to get my life back on track and deal with Christmas, then in January, took an Advanced Writers Workshop with famed author/editor/contest judge/co-founder of Left Coast Writers/networker extrodinnaire Linda Watanabe McFerrin which in 8 amazing weeks made me feel like I knew a lot more and a lot less than I thought I did.

A lot more, because I have a natural writing ability that comes easily.  A lot less, because writing is, after all a craft, and there is a lot about writing publish-able work that I have yet to learn.  Linda gives great feedback, and I was surprised at how hard some of it was to hear.  After all, I've been writing for years at work (technical design documents), have never been fussed over the criticism, and thought myself immune to it, but it turns out that when the writing is more personal, it's harder to hear.  But it's all for the greater good, and all for making the work the best possible work it can be. 

When I coded software,I figured out that finishing writing the code is only 1/3 of the process.  No matter how beautiful the code, there are kinks to be worked out, and it pretty much always took 2/3s as long as it took to write the program.  I'm realizing that a similar ratio is at work with writing stories as well.  You write, then re-write and re-write and edit and edit, and then you approch publishability (exept for these blog posts, which are pretty much stream of consciousness).

So I'm maintaining my job in software development (because I've found writing doesn't pay much at all), and will be writing more and more in the future.  So expect to see more here in the future.

Today Sucks

Six years ago today, my life blew apart.  I woke up and took Hazel & Lucca for a walk.  I was exhausted because the night before I came home from walking the dogs to find that Jeff had fallen over into the bathtub and couldn’t get out.  His leg was hurting terribly.  I couldn’t get him out myself, and went to ask a neighbor for help, to Jeff’s embarrassment.  He helped get Jeff out of the tub and onto the bed, and stayed to talk with him while I called the ambulance.  Jeff told me to stay home this time, and catch up in the morning, as ER visits were a common occurrence in our 13-year marriage.

I was playing Fate, making the time disappear until I could call the hospital.  Our routine was for me to call after the doctor’s rounds - usually around 9.  At 8:30, the phone rang.  It was a doctor, which was a very uncommon experience.  She told me that Jeff had broken his femur and that his body was beginning to shut down and I should come to the hospital immediately.  If I knew anyone else who would want to say good by, I should call them as well.  I called to work, then sped over to the hospital. I found Jeff in intensive care, with a couple of nurses working hard to keep blood in him.  They were hooking a pint of blood into his IV every few minutes.  Jeff was alert and in a good mood, introducing me to the nurse.  “Oh, so you’re his wife,” she said, pleasantly.  “I’ve heard a lot about you.  He loves you very much.”  I took his hand and leaned over to kiss him.  “We love each other very much,” I replied.  “How’s he doing?”  He’s losing a lot of blood internally, so we’re trying to keep up,” the nurse replied.  “I suggest you talk to the doctor.”  I kissed Jeff again and went off to find her.

“His body is shutting down,” the doctor told me bluntly.  He’s bleeding internally.  I don’t expect him to last the night.”  I went outside to an enclosed garden close to the intensive care unit, turned on my cell phone and started making calls.

 “Jeff’s in the hospital again,” I’d say to message machine after message machine.  “It looks like he’s not going to make it this time. Please come down.”  I asked a few of our closest friends to call other friends and spread the word.  Feeling helpless, I went back to be cheerful for him.  I later heard from several friends that when they heard Jeff was in the hospital again, the thought they’d see him on the upcoming weekend.  Then they heard the rest of the message and got worried.

The nurses were working steadily to keep blood in his body.  He looked worse and was swelling up.  We talked of random things to try to take his mind of the constant flow of chatter from the nurses.  Every pint of blood had to be verified with his name and patient ID number read and repeated.  I thought then that I’d never forget that number.  Thankfully, I have.

The people started showing up.  Only 2 people can be with the patient at a time, and because of the nurses, they asked to limit it to 1.  I went to the waiting room to make room for others be with him.  Then I started falling apart.

Around noon, he was losing consciousness and they had to put a tube down his throat, so he would no longer be able to speak.  I kissed him and told him I loved him.  He told me he loved me and used a secret pet phrase that always made us laugh.  I smiled for him, then turned away.

The chaplain came by, a wonderful woman who I remember hazily.  She had a separate room for us, since we were such a large crowd and I couldn’t stop crying.  By the end of the day, there were 15 people in that tiny room, sending Jeff love, and supporting me.

It was the worst afternoon of my life.  People would come in as they heard or as they got off work or were able to make it.  I remember not being able to stop crying, and being surrounded by loving people.  The afternoon was punctuated by nurses giving me updates as his condition worsened.  The would bustle in, tell me that some other part of his body was failing, and what they were doing to try and fix it.  Finally, around 5, they told me his kidneys were shutting down and wanted to know if I wanted to put him on dialysis.  I had 2 questions.  Is it painful? Yes.  Will it help him live? No.  I said that he had fought long enough and if his body was shutting down, we should let it shut down without adding any additional trauma to his life.  He’d been through so much and fought for so long and so hard.  Originally, his doctors have him 5 years to live, and he outlasted them by 8 years.  I said “Let him go.” And cried.  The nurse came back and told me they’d stopped all the life-saving measures, and he looked calm.  He was still swollen and had the tube down his throat to breathe, but he looked peaceful.  Then she told me that I was very brave for making that decision and all the nurses were really proud of me.  It was hard, she said, but trying to keep him alive would just cause him more trauma.  God bless her for saying that.  At the time, I thought it was the only choice I could have made, but later I appreciated her kindness.   And still do.

Finally, they came in and asked if I wanted to spend the night to be there when he passed, or go home.  Go home, I said.  I’d been there all day and started out tired.  I didn’t know if I could sleep, but at least I could lay down.  I’d done everything I could for him.  For 13 years.  Did I want a call when he passed, if it was the middle of the night? I don’t remember what I said, just that I woke up at 6 and called to find out that, against all odds, he had made it through the night.  As my friend Rebecca said later when told this, “He always was freakishly strong.”  Katy, who along with Jan had spent the night, as they were to stay with me for several more days, asked if I wanted to go to the hospital.  I was drained, exhausted and just couldn’t.  I’d said my goodbyes the day before.  I couldn’t say them again.  Once was hard enough.  “I want to go,” said Katy.  I told her to go and go now because he could pass at any time.  She left immediately.

He looked so peaceful, she said.  They’d taken the tube out of his throat and he was lying peacefully, looking almost well.  She held his hand and told him it was ok to go.  Like he was waiting for permission, he passed a few minutes later.

My world blew apart.  I thought that I was prepared for his passing, but one never is.  We were so close, so connected, so entertwined.

So here I am, six years later, healthy and happy.  It’s taken this long to put my life back together, re-construct a life without Jeff’s larger-than-life presence.  I’ve found strength I didn’t know I had, or had forgotten about.  Developed skills and talents that took a back seat to health issues and drama.  And even found love again.  A different kind of man, because Jeff was so one-of-a-kind, but one who adores me and loves me and has stuck with me through the difficult times when my life was broken.  The future is rosy, and full of love.

Employed!

Energy and persistence conquer all things.”Benjamin Franklin  


After two 1/2 months of the re-vamped job search, success is mine!  To keep up my morale, every time a recruiter sent my resume off to a prospective employer, I'd put their name and the name of the company on a Post-It note above my monitor.  I figured it was just a numbers game -- eventually, I would get interviews with the folks who were in charge of hiring.  I am confident in my interview skills, so I knew if I could get interviews, I would end up with job offers.

In the end, it played out like this:  Resumes sent through Dice & LinkedIn: 388 (This includes last fall, before the re-tooling). Interviews with hire-ers: 3  Job offers: 1.  I actually had another interview set up on the day I received the offer, but called to cancel, as the offer on the plate was more long-term and therefore more desirable.

And the winner is: Me, of course.  I'll be working at Wells Fargo as a Business Systems Analyst, working on adding features to their Small Business Payroll service.  Long contract.  Good Pay.  Benefits options.  And most importantly, working in the Bay Area, right where I want to be.

Success is sweet.