i recently realized that i get turned on by taiko drumming. seriously. as in, full body tingling, blood rushing to my face and clitoris, butterflies in my stomach turned ON.

*sigh*

i have to join a dojo. there's one here where i live that's actually famous. they're pretty hard-core, though, and i'm not sure i'd be up to it. i was watching an interview with the sensei, and he was saying that the students there do 500 push-ups and sit-ups a day.

seriously.

i mean, i'd like to think i'm a woman of great determination who'd do whatever it takes for her art. and taiko -- as with a lot of asian disciplines -- is beyond an art form; it's also a spiritual way of life kind of thing, with a mind/body philosophy tied to the way you perform the music, hold the drumsticks, stand or kneel or lie before your drum.

have i mentioned that this shit turns me on?

*sigh*

yeah, i gotta figure out a way to make this happen.

so, ex-friend has somehow become re-friend.

i'm not sure exactly how this happened. i think it was probably a combination of wanting to be polite and wanting to have my friend again. that being said, i'm really, really not sure this is a good idea. i mean, we've hung out a total of three times now (once by ourselves), and i gotta say: OUCH! it hurts -- i mean, really hurts, so much so that i am semi-desperately trying to find a way to not see RF anymore.

*sigh*

anyway, i have to run, but i just wanted to state what i, well, stated so i can have some sort of record, some proof of accountability. i'll fill all y'all in later when i know more.

peace.

i've known my best friend, gina, now for 27 years. she's married to this guy named aaron. one night, they were watching "the fountain," and she saw that the director's name is darren aronofsky. for some reason, that just struck her as completely and totally funny: "aronofsky! aw, who are you, honey? you're my little aronofsky! yes, you are! ar-on-of-SKY!"

you get the picture, right?

and, what makes calling aaron "aronofsky" even more fun is just how much he hates it. i mean HAAAAAAATES it! so, we get a couple of scotches in us, and suddenly we're, like, "hey, remember when you started calling aaron 'aronofsky'? that was funny!"

"aw, aronofsky! who's my aronofsky? YOU are!"

"ar-on-of-SKY! ar-on-of-SKY!"

"hey! only gina can call me that! no one else, damn it!"

*snicker, snicker*

so, sunday night (two nights ago), a couple of us were hanging at gina and aaron's place, sittin' on the balcony, drinking, smoking, listening to awesome music, and i mentioned that darren aronofsky had a new movie out ("the wrestler"), which i felt gina and aaron should see, since it's, y'know, aronofsky.

this led to a general discussion about movies we were excited to see. i mentioned the new star trek flick. aaron tried to make the vulcan salute, but accidentally did the boy scout salute, which turned the conversation to the fact that aaron was an eagle scout.

in a fit of brilliance, our friend, jae, said:

"aronofsky, the eagle vulcan. live long and be prepared."

i just about lost my shit.

peace, babies.

once again, the saga of EF rears it's at-one-time-hideously-ugly-but-now-just-needs-a-good-pore-refining-treatment head.

as i mentioned in a previous post, i'd gotten word from EF's roommate (and a friend of mine) that EF misses me. i, naturally, pooh-poohed the notion, since i think that, not having seen each other in two and a half years and not having been friends with each other for almost five years probably falls somewhere under the category of Having Moved On And Forgotten All About It.

but then, on friday afternoon, i got this text from EF's cell (names changed to protect the truly innocent):

hey do you wanna play laser tag for my brother's birthday on Sunday? lemme know

um, HUH?

i was confused. i couldn't comprehend that EF had invited me to his kid brother's birthday gig, especially since history told me that these things usually just consisted of the siblings and the parents, and maybe one old family friend. why me? had [jujubees], EF's kid brother, asked if i could be there? if so, how could i find out without sounding paranoid? i mean, if the kid specifically wanted me there, i would maybe go. but if it's just some oddball idea of EF's, well, no thanks!

after some further consideration, i tho't that perhaps it wasn't really EF who had texted the invitation to me, but his sister (using his cell phone, obviously), since she and i have remained good friends all this time, and it's exactly the kind of thing she'd do. so, thinking it was her, i wrote back:

Ur bro [jujubees]? What day?

to which EF rather brusquely -- and rightly so, since (a) he only has one brother and (b) he'd already told me what day -- replied:

sunday

i immediately felt sheepish. my bad.

i also realized, based on the terse answer from EF, that it WAS EF who had contacted me. immediately, warning signals started flashing. i mean, don't get me wrong; [jujubees] is a fantastic kid, and normally i'd love to go and celebrate his birthday and hang out with EF's sister and their dad, who i also really enjoy. but the event itself was too personal, too intimate. i mean, really? really??? who does that? who invites an ex-friend to their little brother's birthday party?

so, i lied. i wrote back:

BUMMER! Alas, this Sunday is spoken for. Thanks for the invite!

*sigh*

i hate lying. HATEHATEHATEHATEHATE IT!

but the Truly Gutless -- c'est moi -- often must lie in order to avoid potentially painful situations.

but wait! there's more!

the next day, i got a missed call from EF. this time, he didn't leave a message, so -- against my better judgment -- i sent him this text:

what's up?

to which he replied:

not much hey are you still blogging

me:

Some, but not much at the [insert name of political blog to which i contribute] lately. Are you thinking of writing?

EF:

just started something if you wanna check it out. [name of EF's new blog]

o.k.

o.k.

weird, right? i mean, SO WEIRD! and now, a day and a half removed from the whole thing, i find that i can't tell if i'm glad, or if i'm dreading any potential fall-out from the whole thing.

ultimately, tho', what i really think is that i'm thinking too much about it. that is to say, now, as i'm writing this post, i'm thinking a lot about it, and my stomach is churning. truthfully, tho', i hardly tho't about it at all today.

huh.

so, then, maybe this is all just a bs post and there's nothing worth mentioning after all. well! who knew?

*sigh*

how old am i? oh, yeah, that's right: TOO FUCKING OLD! ;-)

peace, babies!

It's strange. Aside from a kinda shitty job where I am made to feel like shit and do shit work for a cheap-ass shit organization that is doing amazing, important, world-changing work, life has been unusually forward-moving lately. I mean, the social life's been crazy-good, the home life is getting good, the family life remains good, and the creative life has been really, really good.

Hm.

Should I be worried?

I'm procrastinating. I really need to do some housework, and today is day five of a five-day holiday break, courtesy of the partnership at the firm where I work. I even told myself and other people (I find being accountable to other people is one of the more effective ways to make sure I get stuff done) that I'd do cleaning...um, well, that I'd do cleaning yesterday; yesterday was the day I was supposed to clean. Supposed to. As in, didn't do it. And then today, I set my alarm to wake up at such an hour that I could get it done today -- nothing major, just vacuum ONE ROOM and dust ONE WINDOWPANE.

*sigh*

I'm a lazy S.O.B.

Anyway, I'm getting restless to get something creative done. Maybe I'll quickly do that minor cleaning, and then my reward will be to work on a new song. I think that'll work out just fine!

Ooh, one more thing before I go: yesterday I used my Christmas bonus from work and bought myself a battery charger for my digital camera; a new battery for my laptop; a Sony PSP; and a game to go with the Sony PSP. Needless to say, the last two items were completely unnecessary and I'm experiencing buyer's remorse.

Damn.

'K., off to vacuum! Peace, babies.

My G,

Thank you for the e-mail about the postcard! When I saw that photo, I was immediately filled with the impulse to hop on a plane and jet away, picking you up en route to that little bit of paradise. Can you imagine? We could water ski and snorkel and swim with dolphins during the days, and then at night we could eat the freshest seafood and drink exotic fruity concoctions and make life lists without fear or hesitation 'cause we know, after all of these years, that we can trust each other with our most fervent hopes. And so I bought the postcard and sent it to you, my dear friend, my G-ski.

I don't know if I've told you about this yet, but a beloved friend of mine is dying of cancer. She's been battling it for 8 years (she was diagnosed when she was in her early 20's). It began as ovarian cancer. She went through chemotherapy, went into remission, but had a recurrence. It had mestastasized to her liver. More chemo, then good news, then bad news, then more chemo, then surgery, then good news followed by more good news followed by budding hope. Then things just "didn't feel right," to use her words, and these Not Right feelings were followed by dread and fear and then, finally, doctor appointments, followed by recurrence, only this time the cancer had metastasized to her brain.

The bad thing about the brain when there's cancer in it: you can't use chemo 'cause of the "blood barrier" surrounding the brain itself, so the only treatment options really are either (1) surgery or (2) radiation or (3) a combination of the two. Dannille had two tumors in her brain. One was inoperable, and after 8 years of treatment, two heart attacks, and a recent spate of seizures, her doctors did not recommend surgery; this meant her only remaining option was radiation. So they scheduled her for five treatments; she only could endure three. After the third (or maybe it was the second), she was so sick that she couldn't stop vomiting, which meant that she couldn't lie still for the radiation treatment, and she -- at long last -- decided that it was enough, already. She was done. She was given a year to live, had a conversation with her now 10-year old daughter, and called in all of us, her Army of Women, to help her go through her writings and thoughts and help organize them into a sort of memoir to leave for her family.

So, that's what I've been doing, my friend. I've been reading the stark and honest thoughts and feelings of this beautiful, intelligent, generous woman who is my family and is dying. She reserves the right to change her mind, to resume treatment, but I'm fairly certain this is it for her. It's been a long, hard journey, for her and her daughter, and she's tired. I do everything I can not to argue with her, but at the same time I try to do everything I can to motivate her to keep fighting. It's an odd and precarious balance to maintain all the time, and I often feel unequal to the task. It's a puzzle worth working, though.

Anyway, I wanted to tell you that I love you, I'm proud of you and what you're doing, and I wish you happy and well. Especially over the last couple of years, and even more so in recent months, you have been on my mind and I miss you. It is not looking good for me to come see you for your 40th birthday, but I still have hopes for 2010. In the meantime, peace, my friend.