In-Line Skating Rink

Saturday, March 27, 2004 :
recycling...

The most creative people can find a use for anything:

http://www.sperare.com/spam_poetry/blogger.html

What about a use for depression? Discussions with Michael this morning and Sharon and Nancy this afternoon... Are we the canaries in the mine? Did we sign up for this job somewhere along the way or was it thrust upon us? Drugs can kill the worst of the symptoms -- like throwing a hammer at a blaring smoke alarm. But what do we do then? Get the hell out? Try to put out the flames? Warn others? Or learn to be happy in a burning building? Step into the Void, friends. This is the shape of our world.

Friday, March 26, 2004 :
All Clues. No Solutions!

Where has Beth been for the last 10 days? Here are the clues, in no particular order:

Clue #1:
Eye Patch

Clue #2:
http://members.kaiserpermanente.org/kpweb/facdir/detailpage.do?
subHeadImgSrc=/kpweb/image/feature/006facdir/norcal/
Body_fresno_servandloc.gif&page=detail&headlineAlt=
Headline%3A%20Fresno%20services%20and%20locations&headlineImgSrc=/kpweb/image/feature/006facdir/norcal/
Body_fresno.gif&bodyContainer=/htmlapp/feature/006facdir/nocal/
nocal_FresnoMedCtr.html#AnchorY

Clue #3:
Polar Bear in Bathtub

http://www.willterry.com/Contact.html

Clue #4a:

OUCH!!!

Clue #4b:
Dilaudid

Clue #5:
Bagna Calda

http://www.thestinkingrose.com/

Clue #6:

Somebody has a birthday on March 18.

Clue #7:

Three people from Maryland conveniently stopped in Oakland on their way back from Hawaii -- in time to celebrate a birthday, take a trip to Coalinga, and drive their daughter to many eye appointments at Kaiser.

Clue #8:

Epithelial debridement = scraping away loose chunks of cornea with a spatula.

Clue #9:

Some people have way more serious problems than a damaged eye.

Tuesday, March 16, 2004 :
a public service announcement...

That's right. April 19 - 25 is TV Turn Off Week. Not so hard for me, since I only watch American Idol half-heartedly and the occasional Saturday Night Live. The point is to free your brain from not only the constant barrage of advertising but also the simplistic and often dangerous world view espoused by the mainstream media. The idea is to have an idea, actually. To clear out your mind so that a little creativity can emerge. Get the soil ready. It's Spring!

Monday, March 15, 2004 :
spring cleaning...

Time for some changes. Like going back to the gym. I promised Michael I'd meet him at 24-Hour Fitness tonight after meditation. I haven't been since the fall.

Another change: being on time to work every day. The result of another promise -- this one to Jo Anne. A perfect record for 2 weeks now. Today starts the 3rd.

What else? I commented to Michael yesterday that, unlike the past, I have managed to make it to every event on my heavily booked calendar in the last few months. Where oh where did my flakiness go? Or the depression that in the past has ground me into my pillow when I had somewhere to be? I don't think I'm less depressed, but somehow the world has been easier to face.

So anyway, here's another change I need to make: A new domain name. herweirdest.com is just not doing it for me these days. Perhaps because I just don't feel all that weird anymore. What to replace it with? Something inclusive. Something that doesn't have an opposite. I'm open to any and all suggestions!

Sunday, March 14, 2004 :
first son of a first son of a first son of a first son...

Ruby once told me that the Chinese have a saying: It is more profitable to raise geese than daughters. That proverb came to me today while celebrating the birth of Sandy's son at her Red Egg and Ginger party. Not that the sentiment was expressed explicitly. But I heard it in the pride with which his relatives announced that Samuel is the first son of a first son of a first son of a first son and in the relish with which they called him "the royal baby." Sandy was so beautiful and gracious and so exhausted. Later, on the phone with Red, I swear I could hear her eyes rolling as I told her about it. After all, she was the daughter who threw chairs at the kindergarten boys who tried to lift her skirt and see her underwear. And isn't it funny that of the three siblings in her family, she's the one who made good. As Red would say, "so funny I could just cry."

Saturday, March 13, 2004 :
for the birds...

I am a VERY serious person. I walked 9 miles today until the soles of my feet were raw. That's SERIOUS. I spent 99 cents on a bean and cheese burrito for lunch (and seriously, all it was filled with were refried beans and jack cheese). I contemplated the flowers as I walked to Lake Merrit and considered the honky tonk band at the farmer's market. On a speckled bench, I followed my breath as children chased pigeons with pieces of bread and frozen desserts. I smiled and seconds later was acutely aware of the smile. The after-image of the smile that is burned into the brain after the actual smile is over. It's like a label: Person who smiles at other humans. It lingers just long enough to be irritating until the next time. And on such a sunny, warm day, there are many next times. (I think I'm developing a little compassion for the excruciating self-consciousness of Dave Eggers, Steve.)

Except, here I am kind of lying. Because I'm not writing this as it happens. Not even the same day. I realize that the entry is dated Saturday, March 13. Do you always believe what you read? Maybe I was actually less self-conscious yesterday than I remember. Maybe, since I'm writing this way after the fact, all that I can recall are those moments I was stuck in my head, and the parts of the day when I was fully present are gone now. Of course they are. This is the present moment now. Sitting at the keyboard, barefoot, furry blue snake wrapped around my neck and Michael tap tapping his own keys across the room.

Friday, March 12, 2004 :
sexy beast...

Kill me now; I'm ready. Got the stitches removed from my finger. Got my hair colored and trimmed. Got a full belly (capellini pomodoro w/ roasted chicken at Firewood and chocolate fudge cake from Just Desserts) and got my friends (Mark, Red, Tomi, and Michael). I can go to Hell and be happy. As long as the real devil is as scary sexy as Jeff Galfer was tonight in A.C.T.'s adaptation of Bulgakhov's The Master and Margarita. Wow.

Thursday, March 11, 2004 :
while we were partying...

...at BPM's annual Irish Coffee Party, the California Supreme Court ordered an immediate halt to same-sex weddings in San Francisco. Reminds me of December, 1999 when Willie Brown kicked Tom Ammiano's written-in butt while we were partying at the Black Cat during Aunt Ann's annual Christmas party. What is this about? Hey, Universe! There are more direct ways of punishing me for drinking. I mean, aren't the nausea, hangover, and depression enough? Do you have to hold me responsible for the lives of innocent San Franciscans too?

Wednesday, March 10, 2004 :
the shape of the journey...

Why is it so hard to sit on BART and just be? Why this compulsion for something to read, to wrap our minds around, to distract? Magazine and newspaper racks line the wall of the BART station, just in case you come unprepared. Is it because without something to read, we might accidentally look at someone else? And worse, they might see us looking at them? People are always telling me to stop staring. And yet, besides the exhibitionists, doesn't everyone secretly crave to be seen?

Well, alright, enough of that. If I'm going to read, I might as well give some thought to WHAT it is I'm reading. All this talk about how great reading is, how reading expands your mind. The literacy zealots would have you believe that books are inherently sacred. They are not. Books are like food. There's fast food (And God help you if you try to blame McDonald's for your own lack of self-control!) and health food and everything else in between. There's eating for basic nutrition, for escape, for pleasure, for social reasons... just as there is reading for basic information, for escape, pleasure, knowledge, self-improvement... Shouldn't what we feed our minds be at least as important as what we feed our bodies?

I think I'd rather sit and stare at other passengers than organize my trip around some collection of printed words whose sole purpose is to distract me, or worse, sell me something. I'd rather have a little human contact here and there than increase my alienation by keeping my head in a book.

Here's a thought: maybe one way to have both (human connection and also distraction) is to read things that other people have given me. Last week, I read Sea Glass, by Anita Shreve, which Marla lent to me months ago. If I'd bought the book myself, I'd have been disappointed by it. But since it's one of her favorite books, I guess reading it connected me a bit more to Marla. The Alchemist, which I read on Monday, not only connected me to Sonia, but also Madonna. (Not that I care.) And Girl-Child, read tonight, gave me scary insight into Tomi. She didn't just give me the book; she wrote it!

Tuesday, March 09, 2004 :
not with a bang but a wimper...

Apologies in advance to T.S. Eliot, but listen carefully when the American Idol kids sing. Deep within those high notes squeezed so earnestly out the tops of their heads, aren't they are only crying:

We are the hollow ones
We are the stuffed ones
Yearning together
Heads filled with air, Alas!
Our tight voices, when
We sing together
Are hysterical and meaningless
As wind through a tunnel
Or smoke alarms sounding
In an empty house.

Shape without form, shade without colour,
Paralysed force, gesture without motion;

Those who will cross
With direct eyes, to AI’s fourth season
Remember us – if at all – not as hot
Brilliant stars , but only
As the hollow ones
The stuffed ones.

*************

And not so deeply hidden within the regular events of this day...

Between the idea
And the reality
Between the motion
And the act
Falls the Shadow

Why doesn't my new cell phone work?

Between the conception
And the creation
Between the emotion
And the response
Falls the Shadow

Gotta empty the Spam folder.

Between the desire
And the spasm
Between the potency
And the existence
Between the essence
And the descent
Falls the Shadow

Just one more hand of Free Cell.

This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but with a whimper.

Monday, March 08, 2004 :
starring Aunt Ann's...

Watch Find on KQED tonight and you might see me and the other gals of Aunt Ann's answering phones during the Pledge Drive.

Okay, going out now! The temperature's supposed to be 80 degrees today!

LATER: Well, here we are...

Aunt Ann's at KQED

Didja see us?

Sunday, March 07, 2004 :
can you spell "who cares?"

Spellbound is supposed to be such a fantastic movie. It's the story of 8 kids competing in the National Spelling Bee. See Monday, March 1. Another movie about competition. Every one of these kids can spell 20 times more words than I can, even if they don't know what they mean. Still, the words in the competition are so hard and the dictionary so big, that it's pretty much guaranteed that no kid is going to know every single word that will be asked. So what determines the champion? Chance. The chance that she will only be asked words she knows how to spell, that some other kid will be asked the words she doesn't know, and that in the event she gets an unfamiliar word, the educated guess she makes will be correct. So the winner gets all this praise and recognition for being the best speller. But is she really?

Mark's coming over to do his taxes, Michael's making chicken kebabs for us, and then I'm taking Michael to see Triplets of Belleville at the Shattuck. Maybe, just maybe, we'll walk past 2433 Durant (read Yogurt Park) on the way home from the theater.

Saturday, March 06, 2004 :
Happy Birthday, Kmeelyon!

Kmeelyon's 36th Birthday party (Well, the 36th birthday. I doubt it's the 36th party.) at Kingman's Lucky Lounge on Grand Avenue. We hadn't seen each other in 3 years. Her boyfriend blew up her face and had everyone write on it. What a sweet guy. But my guy's sweet, too, because after the party we walked to Fenton's Creamery for ice cream cones. Just what we needed after Kmeelyon's carrot and mocha birthday cakes!

Friday, March 05, 2004 :
cheap Chinese...

Eve's Hunan is not as fantastic as Red and I thought it was going to be. But what a gorgeous day! You don't mind that I forced you to walk 2 miles to Yogurt Park for the best frozen yogurt in town, do you? Wasn't it worth it, Red? Or that I made you wait while I tried on clothes at Eddie Bauer's going out of business sale? Or that I almost persuaded you to buy a cell phone?

Spring is here! Take a deep breath! Mmmmmmmm... Taxes!

Thursday, March 04, 2004 :
what else is wrong with me?

Do not worry about the mote in anyone else's eye when you might have a cinder block in your own. About a month ago, Saturday, February 7, to be exact, I woke up, opened my eyes, and screamed, "Help! Oh my God! There's a BRICK in my eye! Get it out!"

Michael did his damnedest to pry the eye open and have a look, but neither he nor I could see anything that would be causing pain. I cried and fussed and jumped up and down, and then I called Teresa to tell her I wouldn't make it to the Meditation Group steering committee meeting that morning and went back to bed. Odd that I didn't mention anything about the incident in my blog here. Or not so odd, since when I woke up an hour later, the pain was gone.

Since then, although the pain hasn't been as severe, I feel like I'm ripping my eyeballs out each morning when I open my eyes. Usually the pain is gone in a few minutes. But this past Monday, both eyes were sensitive to light all day long. Then Tuesday found me wearing sunglasses in the office for the first hour or so. I called Kaiser and made an appointment for this morning.

Of course, this morning I opened my eyes with no problem. No pain. Only the slightest irritation if I really thought about it hard enough. I'm thinking, "Oh, great. This is all in my head. The doctor's gonna look at me funny, say he doesn't know what it could be but since it's not hurting now, it's just some unexplained irritation that is now gone, and send me on my humiliated way." But NO! Joy of joys! THERE REALLY IS SOMETHING WRONG WITH ME!!

I've got Recurrent Corneal Erosion caused by Basement Membrane Dystrophy. If you don't believe me, here it is in my doctor's own handwriting:

"What's that?!" I asked in horror.

"You're going to become an expert on it," he said, "because as soon as you get home, you're going to type it into Google and learn all about it." And that's what I did: http://www.google.com/search?sourceid=navclient&ie=UTF-8&oe=UTF-8&q=recurrent+corneal+erosion. See for yourself.

Wednesday, March 03, 2004 :
how NOT to pit an avocado...

1) Do not hold the avocado in your hand. Put in on the counter.
2) If you do hold the avocado in your hand, do not STAB the avocado pit with the sharp point of a steak knife.
3) If you insist on stabbing at the avocado pit with the sharp point of the knife, do not miss!
4) If you DO miss the avocado pit and stab your index finger instead, do not faint! You brought this on yourself. Run your hand under cold water while shouting to someone to drive you to the Emergency Room for stitches. Keep pressure on the wound so that you don't bleed all over your friend's car. Apologize profusely to anyone you may have freaked out -- and especially to anyone who was left behind to clean up the blood. Later, after the mayhem is over, take a picture of your sutured finger and post it on the Internet as a warning to anyone else who might not know how to remove the pit of an avocado.

Beth's stitched up finger

Monday, March 01, 2004 :
And the 2004 Oscar Pool goes to...

Me! Beth Terry! I won it! I guessed more correct Oscar winners than anyone else at Ruby's party last night! The $35 goes to me! I am a superior person! And yet...

You know the sinking feeling, the letdown, after working really hard to win something and then actually winning it? There's elation when you find out you've won. Then, a few hours later, maybe even a few days later, after people have stopped talking about it, after you have told everyone you know, the darkness creeps in and knocks you on your ass. That's Reality with a capital "R" baby. Disillusionment. Emptiness. The VOID.

Because a part of you knows that it doesn't matter who has won. It could have just as easily been one of the other competitors. And then they would be having the moment of glory, and you'd be the one disappointed. And so? Does the Universe care? Nope.

As I watched the Oscars, I thought about the movie people in their glamorous gowns having their moments in the spotlight. What does it actually mean to be named "Best Actor" when your fellow actors have all worked just as hard and done the best that they could do? At that high level of achievement, how can you really say that one is better than the other anyway? And then, halfway through the show, they play the tape of all the movie people who have died during the year, and you realize that in such a short time, very few people are going to know your name, much less have been alive to remember you directly.

That's why I don't enjoy sports movies. I was trying to explain this to Michael Saturday night after forcing myself to sit through Seabiscuit. The formula is familiar. Athletes work really hard to overcome some handicap and initial disappointment to win the big game -- usually, as was the case with Seabiscuit, by a nose (or a basket or a touchdown or a homerun or a lucky punch...) Cheers all around! And then what? Seabiscuit could have just as easily lost the race... and then there would be no book or movie or Academy Award nominations. Where's the story about the horse that lost -- by a nose. Like I said, at that level of skill, maybe on a different day another horse would have won.

And it's all about living for the future, isn't it? The big goal. A lot of us know this. It isn't breaking news. But we do it just the same. Perhaps this is why I stayed in bed all day today, didn't leave the house, and missed meditation.

That's life. You gotta pay to play.