Let's Get It On

One 12-hour shift sits between me and the beginning of my chemotherapy.

One the one hand, I feel like all of this cancer non-sense has gone so fast that it makes my head spin. Found the lump June 9, mammogram June 27, biopsy July 7, diagnosis July 8, mastectomy Aug 20, port placement Sept 22, chemo Sept 28. Since I live my life from clinic weekend to clinic weekend, my summer was flying by anyway but with all of these big dates coming and going, along with the work and personal life drama that has tainted my life in the last month, it seemed to go faster than usual.

However, when I think about the vast number of conversations I've had about my cancer, from lump discovery to treatment, having the same conversations over and over with coworkers, friends, students, and strangers, I am just so sick of myself and it feels like I've been a cancer patient for fucking FOREVER. Everyone is curious and concerned, and I know WAY more people that I gave myself credit for, so I've explained so many things so many times that I almost wish I had a new story to tell. Sure, I guess it changes a bit as time goes on. I mean, instead of telling people about my mastectomy this week, I've been able to explain why the hell my arm is bandaged and bruised from my port placement. That's neat, I guess. I just, I dunno... I feel like an attention hog? I feel like I've been in the spotlight too long? I feel... I don't know. I'm just tired of talking about myself because I feel like I'm being vain or something, except that people are asking ME rather than me forcing it on THEM (I think... have I been forcing my cancer into conversations?).

So now, after all that's happened in such a short time, I'm just fucking READY. Let's get it on, let's start the chemo and shave my head and get this show on the road already. I've got the wigs at the ready and am actually really looking forward to not having to blow-dry and straight-iron my hair every day. I'm enrolled in a class called Look Good, Feel Better, a free class run by the American Cancer Society that teaches cancer patients a bunch of makeup and wig-care tips, like how to draw on eyebrows and skin care for chemo'd skin. I'm about as ready as I'll ever fuckin' be, I guess, and I just want to START already. The sooner the start, the sooner it'll be over, right?

T-minus 5 months 'til my 30th birthday, my shining light at the end of the tunnel. I just gotta get into the damn tunnel before I can work on getting out of it!

Whoopsie

Looks like I kinda sorta stopped writing stuff on this here blog because I've been doing all of my writing on Facebook. Apologies to my three blog followers (even though I think all three of you are on my Facebook list...)

Sinking In

3 days left.

It's really sinking in now. As I was getting in the shower this morning, I glanced at the mirror and lost my cool. 3 days left with my beautiful, scar-free breasts. 3 days until I no longer have nipples. 3 days until I never feel sexy again. Or at least not for a long, long time.

Unfortunately, I gave-in and googled some pictures of breast reconstruction. Big mistake. Now all I can think about is the massive scars I'll have across my "breasts". And now I just can't stop crying.

They're just boobs. They're not lungs or kidneys or other such things that we NEED. They're just boobs. Yet my vanity has crawled back into my brain and I'm trying to wish this all away again because I LOVE what I already have and I don't want to give it up. I hate this. I hate that I have two choices: get rid of cancer for good or get rid of cancer for now. Fuck this. I've regressed back to denial and anger again but, seriously, fuck this. I want to say it's not fair but life is very rarely fair, so it's a moot point.

Oh well. Whatever. I have to finish getting ready for work now. How I'll get through my shift without being a blubbering mess is beyond me but I guess I'll cross that bridge when I come to it...

Boobie Shower

So a bunch of my friends in the Pagan community threw me a Boobie Shower tonight at a local witchy coffee shop, as a goodbye party for my breasts and also to give me gifts to help me through chemo. Some brought candles and crystals, some (my hairstylist) brought false lashes and eyebrow makeup (to continue helping me with my hair needs!), and some brought hats to keep my soon-to-be-naked head warm. A bunch of people, though, brought me fun wigs to wear and I thought I'd share some pictures with you because I'm stoked about it. My mom doesn't think I'll feel up to wearing wigs but I'm hoping she's wrong because I'm excited about it at this stage.

Also, don't I make a surprisingly okay-looking blonde? I was expecting to be a hideous blonde! :)

The clock is ticking

Well, my surgery is officially "Next Week". Dun dun duuuunnnnn...

That makes it pretty real while also making it quite unreal. Why must everything be wrapped in simultaneous paradox these days? I'm accepting it while in denial. It's real while unreal. I'm calm but I'm freaking out. Jeez, whoever said having cancer at 29 is easy must've been doing it better than me. Oh wait. No one ever said that. Never mind.

I was at my cousin Melitta's 35th birthday party last weekend, a birthday party that modern medicine never anticipated because she "wasn't supposed to" live to 35. When she was diagnosed with primary pulmonary hypertension at age 19, they gave her 2 years tops. 16 years and a double-lung transplant later, she's proven them all wrong and become the longest-living survivor of PPH. But I digress... at her birthday party, a song came blaring out of my uncle's stereo that struck a chord with me (no pun intended). It's a song that meant a lot to us back when it came out in 1996, when she was on oxygen and had a portable pump injecting her with medicine 24/7 despite being only 22 years old. The song is Alanis Morrisette's "Hand in My Pocket" and it had meaning to us because of the line "I'm sick but I'm pretty". It was Melitta's mantra for quite some time, especially after we went to the concert at Red Rocks and they were selling bumper stickers with that exact line on it. Last weekend, the song came on and I experienced a jolting juxtaposition: the line applies to me now, not her. She's perfectly healthy, albeit with a suppressed immune system, and is now my support system instead of the other way around. I'm sick. Holy shit. I'm sick. That's such a foreign concept to me that my brain can hardly compute the data.

Incidentally, tying this back to the beginning of this mental meandering, the whole last stanza of that song is full of paradoxical states of being that truly apply to me these days. Behold:

I'm free but I'm focused.
I'm green but I'm wise.
I'm hard but I'm friendly, baby.
I'm sad but I'm laughing.
I'm brave but I'm chickenshit.
I'm sick but I'm pretty, baby.

And what it all boils down to
Is that no one's really got it figured out just yet...

I've got one hand in my pocket and the other one is constantly on Facebook... reaching out... looking for and basking in your love and support, while dreading and accepting the passing of my last 10 days with my sweater bunnies.

Sigh of Relief

"No evidence of metastatic disease."

I think that might be my favorite phrase in the English language. Well... okay, 2nd favorite phrase. It comes right behind "Okay, ma'am, here are your shredded beef tacos. Can I get you another Corona?"

I have been breathing sigh after sigh of relief for the last half hour since Dr. Kimm called to deliver my 2nd favorite phrase. Knowing what I'm dealing with, just the original tumor and no metastatic lung, ovary or brain involvement, makes this whole situation 90% less-scary to me. Now it's just a boring ol' bilateral mastectomy with reconstruction and 18 weeks of chemotherapy. Piece of cake! These are things that I've accepted and come to terms with over the last 3 1/2 weeks since diagnosis. Metastasis was NOT on my list of things I was ready to accept with open arms.

I finally feel like I can and will beat this thing because I'm no longer worried that it's lurking around other corners. I have breast cancer, which is TOTALLY doable. I'm not pretending that I'm stoked about the mastectomy, which is two weeks from tomorrow, or that I've got an easy road ahead of me. I'm just really glad to finally know that the road didn't get any more difficult than it already was. Like, yunno, trudging along a bumpy road to see the bridge up ahead get blown up or something. But no! My bridge wasn't blown up. I continue to walk this long and winding road but at least I have the bridges and don't have to find another way around. (Wow, this metaphor is wearing thin...) You get my point.

*sigh*

Now I can really enjoy graduation on Friday afternoon, my cousin Dave's wedding that night, and the C-21 graduation party on the 14th. No more monsters under the bed. The monster is sitting right there at my dinner table for all to see. Monsters aren't so scary when they're sitting at the dinner table. Everyone knows that. :)

PET scan results

I just got the results of my full-body PET scan and the doctor says it shows no evidence of metastatic disease! YAY!!! Finally, some great news! So I just have the original tumor, something I've already come to terms with, and no new surprises to add to the burden. Again, YAY!!! Just thought I'd share. :)

Unanimous vote

After lots thought and thorough consideration, me and my two aunts (who also have breast cancer) took a vote and we decided that this is how we feel about this disease. Since the vote appears to be unanimous and the wishes of the group seem clear, I think cancer better FUCK OFF already. Just sayin'.

Theme Song

I've decided that this is my new Theme Song for the foreseeable future. Yes, my life was going SO well over the last few months since I left Tucson. Yes, this whole cancer thing really effin' sucks. But NO, it's not the end of the world. In fact, it's not really an end, it's more of a beginning. And, to be quite honest, this diagnosis has opened up new opportunities to me that were not there before, such as my photo shoot with Ellen or my plaster session with Boots or my license to wear whatever wig I so choose to work. Life has its ups and downs, it's all just a ride and we've got no choice but to go with it. This song is my new anthem. Video and lyrics both below, if you're interested.



Jem - "Just A Ride"

Life, it's ever so strange
It's so full of change
Think that you've worked it out
Then BANG
Right out of the blue
Something happens to you
To throw you off course
And then you

Breakdown
Yeah you breakdown
Well don't you breakdown
Listen to me
Because

It's just a ride, it's just a ride
No need to run, no need to hide
It'll take you round and round
Sometimes you're up
Sometimes you're down
It's just a ride, it's just a ride
Don't be scared
Don't hide your eyes
It may feel so real inside
But don't forget it's just a ride

Truth, we don't wanna hear
It's too much to take
Don't like to feel out of control
So we make our plans
Ten times a day
And when they don't go
Our way we

Breakdown
Yeah we breakdown
Well don't you breakdown
Listen to me
Because

It's just a ride, it's just a ride
No need to run, no need to hide
It'll take you round and round
Sometimes you're up
Sometimes you're down
It's just a ride, it's just a ride
Don't be scared
Don't hide your eyes
It may feel so real inside
But don't forget it's just a ride

Slowly, oh so very slowly
Accept that
There's no getting off
So live it, just gotta go with it
Coz this ride's, never gonna stop

Breakdown
Don't you breakdown
No need to breakdown
No need at all
Because

It's just a ride, it's just a ride
No need to run, no need to hide
It'll take you all around
Sometimes you're up
Sometimes you're down
It's just a ride, it's just a ride
Don't be scared now
Dry your eyes
It may feel so real inside
But don't forget enjoy the ride

Acceptance vs. Denial

Acceptance. –noun
1. the act of taking or receiving something offered.
2. favorable reception; approval; favor.
3. the act of assenting or believing: acceptance of a theory.
4. the fact or state of being accepted or acceptable.

It sure is hard to shoehorn this whole cancer thing into that definition, isn't it?

Denial. –noun
1. an assertion that something said, believed, alleged, etc., is false.
2. disbelief in the existence or reality of a thing.
3. the refusal to satisfy a claim, request, desire, etc., or the refusal of a person making it.
4. refusal to recognize or acknowledge.

That seems more appropriate, doesn't it?

Acceptance is a funny thing because it can be far more kinetic than expected. I find myself going for days at a time simply accepting my diagnosis, trudging ever forward on this path to Mastectomyville, unflinchingly and without question. Then suddenly, without warning, the full weight of the situation falls on my shoulders again like the 1000-pound gorilla that it is and I suddenly remember that we're not just talking about ANY 29-year-old with breast cancer, we really ARE talking about ME. And the cycle begins anew...

Denial. NO. NO WAY. I can't effin' believe this. It's not happening. It doesn't make sense. I'm too young. I've never smoked. I've never been a drinker. I've never ever been a drug-user. I'm slightly overweight but certainly not obese. Hell, I have a gym membership. I've even used it a few times. There is no reason for this and, thus, cannot be real. It just can't.

Anger. FUCK THIS. WHY ME? Why my beautiful breasts, of all things?? Why NOW, when my life has been going SO FUCKING WELL for the last few months? And why AGGRESSIVE cancer? Why not lumpectomy-worthy cancer? It fucking HAS to be bilateral fucking mastectomy-grade cancer? For the reals? For the really fucking reals? You have got to be motherfucking kidding me.

Bargaining. Deals with God(dess). If I just think some happy thoughts and be good, it'll go away. If I eat these avocado rolls for lunch instead of Wendy's, my tumor will shrink. I promise to go to the gym more and eat, like, 2 or 3 veggies a week if you'll just make my cancer diminish, Great and Powerful Wizard of Oz. Now I'll just click my tattoo three times...

Depression. Tears. Tears upon sobbing mess of tears. Vacant staring into the distance followed by laying in bed for three straight days. What's the point of getting up? I have cancer. The world is a cruel, horrible place where good people get saddled with terrible situations for no apparent reason. This sucks and I shall wallow in it because I know not what else to do.

Acceptance. It's all going to be okay in the end, I just have to get through this shit storm first. It is what it is and I can either fight or... well... not. The best thing to do is make lemonade with these painfully sour lemons and be sure to add enough sugar to lighten it up. I get to wear fun wigs and false eyelashes and other such girly girl things. I'll be done with chemo before my birthday, which will make my 30th that much bigger of a celebration. I'll have nothing left to panic about, since cancer has always been my main panic attack trigger in the first place. Once you beat your biggest fear, what else is there to panic about? My fear of butterflies? Everything else seems silly and pales in comparison. This too shall pass and I will have the harrowing tale of my survival to share for many, many years to come. And I'll grow ever closer to my friends and family along the way, as so many shoulders have been offered-up for my leaning needs.

Except that this shouldn't be happening... no, it's not really happening, it can't be...

Ah, the ebb and flow of all things. It's so hard not to get caught in the emotional undertow. We just gotta fight the pull, firmly plant our feet, and wrench ourselves out onto the beach of joy and love so as to avoid drowning in an ocean of fear and despair.

Easier said than done but never impossible.


I am a lotus, rising from the slime and muck to stand strong and beautiful above the water's surface.

Fear is counter-productive

Fear certainly has its place in human evolution. The fight or flight response is extremely important and a jolt of adrenaline has kept many a human alive in the face of all sorts of extreme situations, from animal attacks to muggings in Manhattan. Fear does serve a purpose, at times.

However, in the course of a normal day-in-the-life, fear can be counter-productive. Fear can hold us back from making necessary change in our lives. Fear can paralyze us in the face of potential happiness. And fear can also take a bad situation and make it, seemingly, ten times worse.

Today, I was terrified.

A brilliant surgeon was laying a plan before me, a plan full of life-saving and life-enhancing choices, and I froze in the face of modern medicine. It was all too much. Too much information was being lauded upon me too quickly and I could no longer process any of it. My brain shut down, the fear took over, and I fell to pieces. Hearing the details of how my breasts would be meticulously removed, rebuilt, and reconstructed over the next year was terrible. Seeing pictures of actual reconstructions was horrifying, as they did not look as I'd expected. I felt as if my womanhood and my identity were being ripped from me in the face of this abhorrent disease, this mutation over which I have no control, and at an age when such things should not be happening. After 60 minutes with the surgeon and 55 minutes of crying my eyes out, I left with shaking legs and a heavy heart, simultaneously going through three stages of grief at once: denial that any of this is really happening, anger that it actually IS happening, and depression over the loss of my perfect twins.

Two hours later, after a recovery dinner with my mother, we got a phone call that my aunt's new husband of only 10 days, who has been in the hospital all week after a mesenteric vein thrombosis caused him to lose 2 feet of bowel, is going in for another emergency surgery to remove another foot. They're not expecting him to make it through and they are out of options if this doesn't work.

I gain perspective. I have options. I have life-saving options. Many are not lucky enough to have such luxuries. Some would be happy just to be alive with their new wife, even if it means living with a colostomy bag. My vanity takes a back seat and the fear leaves me. I will live through this and I need to be grateful for it.

By the by, he made it through surgery okay. He's not out of the woods but he is much better than he was hours prior.

Sometimes, one option is all you need. You just have to put the fear aside and make the choice to affect the necessary change.

A whole lot of bad news

Okay, now for the horrifyingly bad news.

They basically gave me the worst news they could've given me based upon the information they have (mammogram, ultrasound, MRI, & results of tumor biopsy).

I am scheduled to have a double mastectomy, with reconstruction, on Aug 20. I'll start chemotherapy probably in September sometime. They won't know if radiation is necessary until after they check the lymph nodes, which they'll get during the mastectomy. I'll be genetically tested for the BRCA gene mutation in the next week or two and, if that test comes back positive, they'll probably remove my ovaries too because it puts me at risk for ovarian cancer.

Worst. Day. Ever.

What's next? I meet with my plastic surgeon on Tuesday to learn more about my reconstruction surgery. I meet with Oncology next Thursday to get that scary crap squared away. And in the meantime, I do my best not to fucking lose my mind.

I'm having a very hard time staying positive, trying so hard not to go to the dark and depressing corner of my mind where the Worst Case Scenarios live. Of course, I just got all of this news today so obviously I'm not expecting myself to process it all in the scant hours since the rug was pulled out from under me but still. I don't even want to "go there" because it will drive me mad.

Anyway, my first course of action is that I'm gonna go get a pedicure before heading back to school tonight. I just wanted to update everyone on the horrible fucking news. Thanks for the thoughts and prayers. I hope I'll eventually get some good news to go along with 'em...

A smidgen of good news

I got a call from my doctor's office this morning and they said that my MRI came back good. It shows no evidence that there's cancer anywhere else in either of my breasts, just in the original site. Now, the MRI doesn't show lymph nodes so I'll still have to get those checked, but it's good to know that the rest of my left breast is okay and my right one is totally clear. Just thought I'd let all y'all know.

I'm a soon-to-be survivor

So... ummm... I've got breast cancer. No, I'm not joking. I really do. Invasive ductal carcinoma. I'm not sure what stage it is yet but I think it's stage 2. Will get more info later when I meet with my surgeon for a consult on Wednesday.

It's so very strange. I've been having panic attacks my whole life and the majority of them are spurned on by my mild hypochondria, usually when I self-diagnose cancer of some kind or another. I can't tell you how many nights I've found myself in a downward spiral of fear and panic at the mere idea of receiving a diagnosis like this. Many a Xanax has sacrificed its life to settle my crazy ass down.

Yet since I received this news on 7/8/09, I've only had one real panic attack and it was the first night after getting the diagnosis. Sure, I cried quite a bit on Wednesday and Thursday but, since then, I've been eerily calm. I'm not sure if I'm still in shock (doesn't feel like it) or in denial (doesn't feel like that either) or if I've just come to terms with it in record time and have just started moving forward.

I figure I have two options: I can stay calm and positive, choosing to beat this and knowing this will pass, surrounding myself with laughter and the love of my friends and family, or I can cry and worry and freak out and make myself sicker & sicker. It's a very easy choice for me. I'm only 4 days into my new identity as Amber Levene: Cancer Patient, and I feel comfortable in the role and confident that it is a temporary one.

It's hard to describe. Maybe it's like being in the eye of the storm? But I'm feeling very "one foot in front of the other", "one day at a time" and all that jazz.

*shrug*

I dunno. Anyway... just wanted to share and let y'all know what's going on...

Dejected

I feel heartbroken, dejected, rejected, anxious, and lonely right now. Just so you know.

Sister kitteh!

I'm pleased to introduce... Loki's new sister! She hasn't told me her name yet but she's super friendly and doesn't seem fazed by her new surroundings at all. Loki isn't thrilled right now but he'll be fine soon enough. For the time being, he's locked in my bedroom while my little girl explores my downstairs. She's so sweet!

Taking a quick break

Phew.

Packing sucks. Moving sucks. (Unpacking is kinda fun...) I am SOOOO glad that this will be the last time I move for (hopefully) a long, long time. Like, 3 years at least!

I have moved so many times in the last two years, it's just silly. Left Alex and temporarily moved into my friend Heidee's house in Lafayette. Moved from Heidee's to my apartment in Arvada. Then from Arvada to my boyfriend's place in Tucson, also temporarily. Got a job in Catalina so I moved from Tucson to Oro Valley. Then got out of my lease 10 months later and moved back in with Aaron to save a few bucks. Then Tucson back to Broomfield. Now Broomfield to Arvada. I count 7 moves in just over 2 years.

If I'm counting correctly, I think I've moved 28 times in my life. And I'm 29 years old. Ugh. No mas.

Anyway, I'm taking a break from packing right now and trying to figure out why my room is looking messier and messier the more I pack. How does that happen?

Also, how on Earth did I manage to misplace the allen wrench needed for taking my bed apart? I must've had it when I moved in, since my bed is put together. I'm very annoyed about this because now I'll have to go out and buy an allen wrench kit, which is lame. I live in a 10'x10' room, there are not that many places this thing could hide! Fuck.

Oh well. On the plus side, I'm purging yet again, giving stuff to Goodwill that should've gone a long time ago. The good thing about moving is that I always end up letting go of some of my pack rat treasures solely because I don't feel like packing/moving these things. Plus, donating things is a nice thing to do.

*sigh*

Okay. Back to work. I close on my townhouse Thursday so it will all be worth it soon...

This is a cute little serval cat I saw at the zoo on Friday. Ain't he cute??

This message was sent using the Picture and Video Messaging service from Verizon Wireless!

To learn how you can snap pictures and capture videos with your wireless phone visit www.verizonwireless.com/picture.

Note: To play video messages sent to email, QuickTime� 6.5 or higher is required.

This is excellent

This has been cracking me up all damn night. If you've seen commercials for the "Snuggy" blanket, then you probably had the same WTF thoughts the rest of us had.

Single and tolerating it.

After a 2-week visit at Christmas, Aaron returned to Tucson on Jan 3, thus officially ending our relationship. I have been single since that day and have felt like I've been doing a fairly good job in this new position.

Meaning: I've gone three whole months without a companion for the first time since the mid-90's, and I haven't had a meltdown yet. In fact, I thought that I'd been kind of enjoying my freedom from checking-in and from fighting for real estate in the bed throughout the night.

As it turns out, I have not been single and loving it. I've simply been tolerating it.

While talking with a friend today, I realized how much I miss the companionship that comes along with a good relationship. See, I thought the hardest part of being single was going to be the lack of easily-accessible sex. Nope. Turns out it's the companionship thing.

I miss laying in bed and talking before falling asleep. I miss always having dinner with someone. I miss the inside jokes. I miss spooning. And kissing. I miss random fits of laughter. I miss laughing at the cat together. I miss watching Discovery Channel together. And I miss having a hand to hold as I walk around town.

These things, I took for granted. I sometimes pulled away from Aaron (and Alex) when they were giving me these things on a silver platter. At the moment, I'd give just about anything for this kind of intimacy. Even without the sex.

And, lemme tell ya, I miss the sex part. A lot.

*sigh*

Oh well. Being single isn't so bad. I mean, I'm getting my life in order, what with the great job and the new friends and buying the townhouse and all that jazz, so I guess I'm getting myself ready to be a good partner. I'm preparing for my next big Love, my next Soul Mate (I'm of the opinion that we have many soul mates. It's just mathematics: I'm supposed to believe that people find the one and only perfect match out of 6 billion people on Earth? And this happens ALL THE TIME?). Yes, preparing my life for what is to come. Yeah. That's it. Sure.

I just wish I had someone to hold me in the meantime...


I miss this. A lot.


I miss this too.

Homesick. Well, schoolsick, actually...

It's been well-documented here that I'm quite pleased with my job. It's a great fit, I've made some amazing friends, and I'm very happy.

Sometimes it makes me kind of sad, though.

Working in a massage school, seeing the students in their close-knit groups and studying anatomy and whatnot, it makes me really miss my classmates.

More specifically, it makes me miss my year at BCMT.

2003 was the best year ever. I was learning, I was growing, I was making life-long friends and connections, and I was going to the best school in the country to do it. My class was extremely close-knit. We laughed all the time. We supported each other through thick and thin. We partied together and studied together. We laid in each other's laps in class and rubbed each other's hands or feet or latissimus dorsis.

I cannot find the words to describe how much I miss that year and that experience, and how badly I wish I could re-live it. Sure, it was hard. I wouldn't be terribly excited to retake my pathophysiology mid-term or my anatomiken final, but it would be worth it to re-live so many of the best moments of my life.

Every day at work when I see the students, I find myself filled with a strange kind of jealousy (school envy?) as I watch them go about their day. Yes, even the ones who seem to hate being in my class. :) Oh, would that I could go back in time to hating my movement class...

*sigh*

I guess I'm homesick for school. Schoolsick, if you will.

On the plus side, I gave a massage to my best friend from BCMT last night, Miss Heidee, which gave me a taste of "back then" just by reminiscing and laughing with her again. I definitely need to see that girl more. I think it'll help with my current condition.

But you can't go backwards, right? All I can do is move forward and bring those memories with me, learning and growing and adding to my human experience. Until someone invents a time machine, of course. Then I am totally going back to January 2003. For the reals.

Gratitude List, 3/8/09

- First of all, I am grateful for having known James Meadow, one of the fabulous writers at the Rocky Mountain News and one of my mom's dear friends. She worked at the News with him for over 10 years and I had the pleasure of meeting him on several occasions. He was a brilliantly funny man, with a biting sarcastic streak, and a wonderful writer; basically, my kind of guy. He passed away today, after a freak bike accident that may go forever unsolved, and the world is a little less bright today. I am just so happy and grateful to have known him.

- I am grateful that my aunt Janice's breast cancer was not as advanced as we'd feared, with the 15 removed lymph nodes coming back clean from pathology. It's a shame she has to go through chemo and radiation but she's alive and well, and will remain so for a good, long time. I'm very close with her and she has gone through hell over the last 14 years while her daughter had a lung disease leading to a double lung transplant, so it is a huge relief that she'll be okay.

- I am grateful to have landed what is, at this point in my life, my dream job. I know a lot of you are probably sick of hearing me say this but I absolutely love my job. I don't expect you to understand WHY I love a job that requires my crazy weekend hours, hours that so few would be willing to work, but just know that my work makes me happy. As it turns out, I'm a very good manager and I'm quite proud of myself for this. I wasn't sure I was management material when I was originally interviewing for the position, being the emotional Pisces that I am, but I've really surprised myself with my competence, drive, and passion. Helping to mold the MT's of tomorrow is wonderful! Now if I can just learn to watch my mouth... (*looks at Jimmy*) :)

- I am SO unbelievably grateful for my co-workers, every single one of them. I get along well with literally every single employee at DSMT, even the one who gave me problems for the first few weeks while she was warming-up to me. I am particularly in love with Colt, Jimmy, Nancy, Aubrey, Alecia, Colleen, Andrew, Alex, and Angie but I've shared laughs with or learned something from everyone else, in some capacity or another. Yes, even Bryan, despite his Red Wings Fan-ness... There were only a handful of great coworkers at my last job (lookin' at you Stacia and Kristina!), which may be part of why Tucson was so hard for me. It's just so nice to genuinely like everyone at work, up to and including my boss.

- I am also, of course, grateful for the paycheck I now make at said job, for it has put me in the position to buy real estate! The fear of my speedy decision to buy has mostly passed, leaving behind excitement and impatience. I cannot wait until April 1 to move into my own home, one that I own by myself and do not owe to my husband's salary. I realize, of course, that I created my own reality, saying since Jan 1 that "2009 is my year! I'm going to get an amazing job, turn 29, and buy a condo" so I realize that I manifested all that is happening. I just, yunno, am in shock at the speed with which I've created my world. It's only March 8, for Pete's sake! My power over Law of Attraction is just getting silly...


- I am grateful that my cat did not destroy anything while I was at work today. He's been angry at me for being gone so much on the weekends and usually destroys some amount of toilet paper or knocks everything off my vanity by Sunday night. I'm also grateful that I'll be able to get him a baby brudder to play with once I move. I'll also reward him with a big, ol' scratching post tower thing. The one shaped like a pagoda. :D

- I am grateful, yet again, for having dinner with Ash and Landon at Jose O'Shea's after a loooong day at work. Guac + laughs = hooray. I love you guys.

- I am grateful that Karena gave me an anatomically-correct, knitted heart for my birthday. It's so brilliantly and uniquely "Karena". Hooray for anatomy!

- I am grateful that I have a fucking rockstar of a stylist! I've never gotten so many compliments on my hair as I have since Meta took the reins. She's so awesome, she actually got me to take the time to straight-iron my wavy mop head every day. Hells yes.

- I am grateful that Sky is still stuck in clinic for two more shifts before graduation. Sure, he's an arrogant prick and I kind of want to strangle him whenever he talks but, DAMN, that boy can give a massage! I am so grateful to be the clinic manager so that I can take full advantage of his last few shifts before he's certified. Got 100 minutes of hard-core, painfully deep tissue massage from him Saturday and I'll likely be sore until Tuesday but, FUCK, I feel good!!!

- And, finally, I am grateful for every silly, dopey inside joke that brings on a fit of giggles. Vince the ShamWow guy, hiding the sausage (burrito), sparkly boobs, my gay 'work husband' adding "let me know if you wanna make out" to the end of every email he sends me, Nancy's under-wire, semen as the cure to the common cold, WORD/DIGIT, every one of the thousands of 'Your Mom' jokes that have spilled from Tyler's lips, Virginia's muffin top, Frontier vs. United, The national anthem of Uruguay, one fairie being in charge of all the monkey sex, my cat studying to become a shoe, and, of course, the Snuggie (because 'conventional blankets' can slip off when you reach for the remote!). I am always, always grateful for laughter and joy, friendship and love. To anyone who is reading this and with whom I've ever shared a laugh, know that I love you and appreciate you more than you can imagine!

Movin' on up and freakin' on out

First and foremost, I'd like to say that if you don't have anything nice or encouraging to say to this post, keep it to yourself because I'm excited.

I put in an offer on a townhouse today. YIKES!

I know, I know. Fast. I move really fast. Seemingly too fast. Don't I want to look around more? Have I thought this through? Can I afford it? Shouldn't I live with Ty for a few more months and save up a bit more? Am I insane?

Let's make a pro and con list, shall we?

Pros:

- Close to work and family (read: Arvada, CO 80003)
- I was really hoping I could get a townhouse instead of a condo!
- Carport that opens directly into the kitchen. No hauling groceries up any stairs!
- The mortgage will be $518 plus taxes, bringing it up to $586. HOA is $170. Total monthly payment will be $756. Most apartments cost more than that and I can't imagine finding a townhouse this nice for that price.
- Brand-new remodeled kitchen and bathroom, with granite counters, never-been-used black appliances (shut up, I like black appliances), new cabinets, new vanity in the bath, and all new fixtures. Plus, there's a PERFECT, unobtrusive place for a litter box in the bathroom.
- Brand-new, high-quality carpet
- Freshly-painted with high-quality floorboards, molding, and doors.
- All east-facing windows, except in 2nd bedroom which is small south-facing.
- LOTS of storage space, from big ol' closets throughout and an outdoor storage space for my hockey equipment and camping gear.
- Double-pane windows
- I talked to the neighbor to ask what she thought of the area and she said she's been there three years and loves it.
- Small, fenced outdoor patio area with just enough space for me to attempt gardening but not so much that I'll feel like a mass plant murderer again (RIP, plants of 2005).
- I love the living room. For the reals.
- CHFA (Colorado Housing and Finance Authority) is giving me the 3.5% down-payment money thanks to a new program they rolled out and I will pay $1000 for earnest money. Interest rates as of today are 5.0%, which apparently is retardedly low. And I may or may not qualify as a first-time buyer (was on the deed to our house but not on the financing...) and might get the $8000 tax credit Obama rolled out this year.
- 824 sq ft of awesomeness, across the street from King Soopers, 7-Eleven, liquor store, and about a mile from Target, Qdoba, and my favorite Chinese restaurant ever.
- New-ish furnace
- Seller will pay closing costs and my first 8 months of HOA fees, thus my mortgage will only be slightly more than what I'm paying to live in Ty's spare bedroom. Yunno, for 8 months.

Cons:

- I'm scared.
- I only just started looking into buying LAST THURSDAY and wasn't even serious about it. It all just kind of happened because I wanted to see the inside of this other place in Old Towne Arvada and it all just snowballed.
- I was planning to live with Ty through summer so that I can save a bit more cash and now I feel like I may be jumping into this too quickly just because the place is so perfect for me.
- I'm scared.
- It's a middle unit. As in, it's between two other units. As in, it's not an end unit. Like, when I have parties, I probably shouldn't blast the music.
- I'm scared.

Okay, well, it's not like this matters at the mo'. I put in an offer already so... yunno... just gotta wait and see. If it's accepted, that'll be SCARY but awesome. If it's not, well, that'll suck but then I can go back to plan A. *sigh*

Did I mention that I'm scared?

Speaking of drama...

Step 1: Submit Facebook friend request to ex-husband.

Step 2: Wait 2 1/2 months while ex-husband mulls it over before accepting FB request.

Step 3: Peruse his profile; see that he has himself listed as single and interested in dating; have the stones to look through ex-husband's photo albums, including the many pics he still has of him with his ex-girlfriend, who moved out back in October.

Step 4: Leave (what I thought was) a benign comment on a picture of them saying "Didn't you guys break up, like, months ago?"

Step 5: Ex-husband's ex-girlfriend messages him, saying "If your friends are going to comment on pictures of me, please remove my pictures from your page".

Step 6: Ex-husband deletes me from Facebook, only hours after adding me, and sends me an angry email about what a bad friend I am and that I have no tact and that I made that comment hoping that she would see it and he's rethinking his decision to try and be friends with me and blah blah blah.

Step 7: Wash hands of ex-husband, I guess. Or he washes his hands of me. Sheesh. WTF?

Minor epiphany

I think I just realized why this job is so great for me and why I'm succeeding as well as I am.

Well, other than "because I'm passionate and smart and love what I do", of course.

Drama.

It's the drama. Student drama. Adult student drama. Dramas that aren't actually Earth-shattering or life-ending or really all that important in the scheme of things, but they seem like it at the time, when I'm dealing within this microcosm.

I'm not very good with the World At Large. Darfur, the wars going on around the world, the economy, local murders happening in my backyard, all the actual scary dramas happening everywhere on Earth. They scare me and I can't handle them. Well, maybe I can but I don't handle them well. Panic rushes upon me in the blink of an eye until I'm spiraling downward within my mind, over something that has nothing to do with me and over which I have no control.

At DSMT, there are mini-dramas going on all the time. All. The. Time. Student X is about to fail Clinic III and what do we do about that?, or Student Y is pitching a major fit that she wasn't selected to do chair massage at the Open House even though she's 8 months preggers and can't be on her feet all day, or Student Z is a psycho and just freaked out and told me "I can't help it if I'm a fucking cunt!" Drama. All. The. Time.

In the midst of it, it's all-consuming and I lose myself in discussions with Jimmy and Nancy about "Did Sarah drop out of the program or is she just ditching clinic?" or "Class D-28 had a 92% show rate!" or "Did you hear Gabriella already has a cruise ship job lined up?!" We spend a good part of our Saturdays and Sundays in discussions and meetings over these things, figuring out game plans to help troubled students or making sure to give credit where credit is due to the fabulously successful ones.

These dramas don't "matter" like the outside ones do. They affect only the people directly involved. The biggest difference to me, though, is that I am a part of it and, often, I am in control as the instructor of the class and manager of the clinic. I completely immerse myself in it, I am passionate about helping or supporting or motivating them, and I always look forward to my next shift. For 40 hours a week, I have some manner of control over (seemingly) major life dramas. And I get to dress really cute while I'm doing it.

I love what I do and I can feel myself thriving.

Is this really necessary?

I was in a very pissy mood when leaving the Emissions Testing Center, after they made me pay not only for an emissions test but for a $15 VIN verification (which is essentially $15 for some dude to look at my VIN plate and mark "this is not a stolen car" on a form), so when I came to this intersection, I could feel acid sarcasm rising inside me but I had no immediate outlet. So I took a picture to share with you:



Is this arrow really fucking necessary? If there were no arrow here, would there be some stupid ass motherfuckers out there who would come to this intersection and drive through the BRICK WALL ahead, thinking they had more options than left or right? Jesus H. Christ... *shakes head*

Unhappy Birthday

Today is my 29th birthday and it's not starting off well.

12 minutes into February 20, 2009, I am trying my best to fend off a panic attack that is trying to tear its way through me. Two hours ago, my mom informed me that my aunt's Stage 1 breast cancer is actually Stage 2, as it's apparently in her lymph nodes. Less than a month ago, the doctors thought it was nothing, not even worrisome enough to be called Stage 1. Now, after a lumpectomy, a few biopsies, and too many mammograms, here we are.

I know that Stage 2 is NOT Stage 4, so I don't need to be freaking out just yet. However, I can't pretend not to be scared and sad about this news, because I'm very close with this particular auntie, and I just don't know how to cope with such a harsh discovery. The rational side of me wants to do what I always do and use the Law of Attraction and the power of positive thought to help her kick this thing. I want to set up my altar, burn sage and candles, meditate, and send her all the happy and healing thoughts I can muster. The irrational side of me wants to cry myself to sleep and let this panic attack take hold. Well, I don't WANT to let the panic rush over me, I just know that's what will happen if my defenses break and the tears begin to flow. Just two weeks ago, I had the worst panic attack I'd had in two years, so I am really not looking forward to having two big ones in two weeks, especially when my Xanax supply is nearly exhausted...

28 minutes into my 29th birthday now, blogging to keep myself busy, distracting myself with Pandora.com internet radio, stalling so I won't have to crawl into bed with my racing thoughts. I'm desperately trying to ignore the downward spiral below me, beckoning me to start worrying about the fragility of life, the "you never know what will happen tomorrow"-ness, and (worst of all) mortality in general. Actually, no, not in general. Mortality in specific, specific to someone I love dearly and who means a whole helluva lot to me.

Fuck.

This just sucks. I really, really, REALLY hope my birthday gets a bit brighter in the next 23 hours and 22 minutes...

Just checking in

Life is grand.

I can't get over how much I love my job. I keep waiting for there to be something about it that pisses me off or something that I hate about it but there isn't anything (so far). My boss is incredibly cool and extremely supportive, my fellow teachers are wicked cool (as far as I can tell, although I don't know them terribly well yet), and I absolutely adore my teaching assistants. I try to decide which of them is more wonderful and it's impossible to choose. My team is extremely passionate about the program and about clinic and it's just an absolute pleasure to work with them. This is my 4th weekend in clinic and my 12-hour shifts still feel like regular 8-hour days. Blessed Be.

Outside of work, not a whole lot is going on. I (finally) joined Netflix this week so I've been spending too much time catching up on 2 seasons of The Office and 30 Rock. The instantly downloadable movies are the greatest thing ever, especially with my fabulous new laptop. I watched The Muppets Take Manhattan two nights ago and it pretty much made my week. Fucking classic.

Let's see... my 29th birthday is this Friday the 20th. Please feel free to send jewelry, gift cards, or just plain ol' cash. Thanks.

Is it spring yet? I'm so ready for the season change! I'm noticing the 7am sky getting lighter each week when I drive in to work so I really wish the temp change would come with it. After a year in Tucson, land of constant summer, I am chomping at the bit for a beautiful Colorado springtime. The tree-hugging dirt worshiper in me can't wait to see the buds on those trees. *sigh* Alas, the Equinox is still 5 weeks away...

Alright, I guess that's about all for now. Sorry it's been so long between posts. I keep thinking about writing but all I really come up with is more variations on "I LOVE MY JOB" and I figure that probably gets boring for you folks after awhile. I'll try to be more interesting later...

Feel the LOVE

You guys, I LOOOOOVE my job!!! Yeah, yeah, I know it's only been two days. And yeah, I know I loved Miraval at the beginning too (the only reason I STOPPED loving Miraval was because Ron was fired and Diana was promoted, btw! It didn't suck until the management change!). But still, I fucking love my new position.

I worked my first 12-hour shift today and it felt like 8 somehow. That's a good sign, right? I met half of the school's students today and got to talk to some of them quite a bit. I received two massages, one was a reflexology session and one was sports massage, and both were wonderful. I got to know my Teaching Assistants better and I LOVE them! Actually, they're two of the best things about my job. Nancy and Jimmy are my left and right arm men (well... people). Super helpful, super passionate, super well-informed, and both are graduates of the DSMT program. Plus, super nice and have super awesome taste in music. Super!

The best part, though, is when I realized I was TEACHING. It's just amazing to me that I still became a teacher, 8 years after I thought that ship had sailed.

*sniffle*
*wipes tear*

And on top of all of this, I have a boss who I actually like and respect! I finally have a fabulous boss! I haven't had a fabulous boss since Kelly back at Travel & Transport and that was 6 freakin' years ago. We have a lot in common, from our sense of humor to our taste in music to the way we talk, and we got along instantly from the very first interview. Actually, I wanted to be friends with her from the first time she called me to schedule my interview. I'm just so damn happy to be working for someone I respect and for whom I WANT to work hard and push myself. I'm already brainstorming ideas on how to reward my kids for attendance (100% attendance is mandatory to pass this class but... well... you know how kids are. Even when some of them are 50-year-old kids). I've got another 12-hour day of clinic Sunday and then Monday I'll be training with the Big Boss Man, the corporate clinic director, so I'll toss around some ideas with him while I'm learning how to run all my administrative reports to show our numbers from the weekend.

Then I'm off Tues, Wed and Thurs! Except that I think I'm going to go in on Tuesday to sit in on a class or two. I went to Boulder College of Massage so I want to see how DSMT's classes are run and get a better feel for where my students are coming from.

*sigh*

I can't believe I have students.

LOVE. MY. JOB.

I GOT THE JOB!!!!!

I am officially the Clinical Internship Instructor and Clinic Manager at Denver School of Massage Therapy! I'm freakin' beside myself right now!! And I start Friday!!!! WHEEEEE!!!!

Two down, one to go

My 2nd interview went really well today! It was a panel interview with three of the school's instructors and I feel like I really held my own. I had a lot of the right answers and even when I didn't know how to answer a question, I admitted to that and they loved it. They gave me a scenario and asked what I would do. I said I'd have no idea how to go about it and that I would go to the other instructors to ask for their help. The panel loved my willingness to ask for help, so hooray for that.

I learned a lot more about the position today and, I must say, I MUST HAVE THIS JOB. I just feel that it will be such a good fit for me! My official position will be Clinical Internship Instructor, which is also the massage clinic manager for the school. I'll have a staff of 3-4 reception people and two teaching assistants. Since they've been without a clinic manager for awhile, one of the T.A.'s has been running the show and he was one of the people interviewing me today. He seems to be really good at this and is a really nice guy, so I look forward to learning the ropes from him. I'm excited about being an instructor at a massage school, it's truly what I've wanted to do since graduating from BCMT 5 years ago. My year spent in massage school was the best year of my life and I've wanted to go back ever since graduation day. Plus, I'm so jazzed at the opportunity to be an instructor! I went to Colorado State University for two years to become an orchestra teacher but dropped out in my sophomore year. Nearly 10 years later, I'm getting a second chance at becoming a teacher and I'm just beside myself with excitement.

Okay. So. I still have to make it through one more interview, the third and final one. And, thank god, I already have it scheduled. No more phone tag! No more calling every day to beg for an interview time! No more worrying! No more freaking out! Final interview is on Wed the 21st at 1:00 with the corporate clinic director man via webcam. Which is nice because I can just RELAX for the rest of this week and actually ENJOY being unemployed for one more week. Not that the job is in the bag but... well... it has never once occurred to me that I might not get this position. This is MY job. I just need to get through the formalities of convincing everyone else that it's mine.

Seriously, after talking to these three teachers today and hearing more about the job, I'm convinced that I am exactly what they are looking for and exactly what they need. I'm also convinced that they are exactly what I am looking for and need. It's going to be a perfectly symbiotic relationship and I am just thrilled about it.

So... now I just wait. And enjoy. And look forward. And visualize my new business cards and my new office and my new schedule.

It feels good. I'm happy. And excited. And relieved.

Ahhhh...

Dear Katy Perry

I just made a new MySpace friend named Em J, like 5 minutes ago, and she had written this letter to Katy Perry on her blog. I have been raving about this dumb skank every god damned time I hear "I Kissed A Girl" so I absolutely love what she wrote and have decided to repost it here because I AGREE WITH EVERY DAMN WORD. I absolutely hate this trendy "girls kissing girls to get attention from boys and then calling themselves bisexual" non-sense. It's fucking retarded. Sexual orientation doesn't just suddenly change, especially not for the promise of free drinks. Die on fire, Katy Perry. Die. On. Fire.


"Dear Katy Perry,

Thanks for setting bisexuals back another 10 years. "I kissed a girl, just to try it, hope my boyfriend don't mind it...."????? Excuse me, I just vomited in my mouth a little bit. The fact that this song is the number 1 single in America just adds insult to injury. Wow, being "bi" for attention is soooooo trendy right now. If you are a bar slut who makes out with other girls for attention/free drinks, you are not bi, you are a SKANK. A bisexual is someone who has relationships with both men AND women, not a drunken whore who makes out with her friends to turn her boyfriend on. Katy Perry, I hate you. I especially hate you because any time you are interviewed about kissing girls/being "bi", etc., you give stupid, evasive answers and refuse to admit whether or not you have even kissed a girl. ICK ICK ICK! Just FYI, Jill Sobule wrote a song called "I kissed a girl" like 10 fuckin years ago, and at least the lyrics were good, it was somewhat realistic, and it was provocative. And at least she wrote it herself. Unlike you. I think I speak for all bisexuals when I say, "We do not want 'I Kissed a Girl'" to be considered some kind of "bi anthem". You suck at singing and you suck at life."

Who are you?

Or better yet, who am I?

I'm having a very introspective, soul-searching kind of day. I'm questioning things I wasn't concerned with yesterday. I'm pondering and reaching, trying to find answers that may not even be there. Or at least maybe they haven't appeared yet... like when you're playing Legend of Zelda and you know you need the boomerang in order to advance through the Forest Temple but you haven't found the boomerang quite yet, so rather than move forward, you have no choice but to keep searching for it.

*sigh*

I'm pretty sure that my self-perception is inaccurate. I feel like I'm This but the feedback I get from others says that I'm That. Now I'm left trying to figure out if I'm This, That, or The Other, maybe a combination of the previous two.

I like to think that I'm constantly evolving and changing. Hell, if there's one thing constant about me as a psycho Pisces female, it's that change does not scare me. I got divorced in record time and moved across country almost on a whim, then decided to move back after having one particularly bad night alone. I go through jobs faster than most people go through a pair of jeans and have never held the same job longer than 2 years. Big change is an issue for me but not necessarily something I fear. I'd almost go so far as to say I thrive upon it, though I'm not proud of this fact.

It's the little changes that seem to give me trouble. Changes in my actions and reactions, my attitudes, my wild mood swings, and watching my god damned mouth. Changing basic character flaws does not come easily to me, although Aaron swears up and down that I've come a looooong way from when we first started dating two years ago. I feel like I've grown up a lot between 26 and almost 29. I feel like I've become much more aware of my behavioral issues, especially in romantic relationships, and will be a better partner to my next victim. But then something always seems to happen that points to NO, YOU HAVEN'T CHANGED MUCH and I feel like I'm back to square one.

Now that I'm back in Colorado, I would LOOOOVE to go back to my therapist whom I was seeing before I moved to Tucson. She was helping me deal with getting divorced from someone I loved while simultaneously dating someone new, working through all those contradictory feelings, but then I moved away before our work was complete. I went to two new therapists in Tucson but didn't click with either of them. Now that I'm back, I really wish I had some fucking health insurance so I could afford to see her again and get back to sorting myself out.

*sigh, again*

I guess I'm still just muddling through life, trying to figure it out. I just really look forward to being at the point where I feel like an honest to goodness Adult, with a stable job that I'm not constantly afraid of losing, a stable group of friends that I'm not constantly afraid of losing, and a stable relationship that isn't hindered under the weight of my divorce baggage and long-distances. I'll be 29 on February 20. That seems like an age where such things should not be out of reach and seems like a good year to really learn who the fuck I am. Right? Right???

Exactly 10 years

I thought I'd share this because I thought it was bizarre and kinda freaky.

Aaron and I broke up today, January 3, 2009, for good this time, when I dropped him off at the airport and he went back to Tucson after visiting for Xmas. No more on again, off again. No more long-distance. No more anything. It sucks. I'm not happy about it. I'm single now.

I'm single for the first time in a long time.

I'm single for the first time in EXACTLY 10 years, actually.

I met and started dating Alex on Jan 4, 1999. I was with Alex and then was immediately with Aaron as soon as my marriage ended, not even a minute between the two.

Jan 4, 1999 - Jan 3, 2009. Is that weird? Exactly ten years?

I thought it was pretty weird...