...after the flood all the colors came out.

A few years ago, when I was staying in California with my extended family, I was in the emergency room with my aunt, who was/is a nurse in the hospital. It's a pretty big hospital, the Harbor-UCLA Medical Center, and the ER was fairly packed while we were there, even though it was early in the morning on a weekday. It was gonna be awhile before I could be seen, so while we were waiting, I had on my headphones, I was listening to Beautiful Day by U2. We had actually started talking to a few of the people next to us a little earlier. I remember there was a man we were having a conversation with; he was telling us why he was there, along with a couple of other personal things regarding his life, like his financial status. It seemed like he was barely making it by, he definitely didn't have very good health insurance either. He was a diabetic, and he was getting so ill that his extremities, his toes, were literally starting to deteriorate. It looked like they were infected, and I believe he was there to receive another treatment, maybe antibiotics. I can't recall the exact medications they were going to give him, all I know is that he was in severe pain, but he wasn't complaining about it. The only reason why I know is because we inquired about how he was feeling, and then he let us know the severity of his pain. It definitely looked like he was suffering; It was easy to feel bad for him.

Anyway, that's the background story. So, going back to when I was listening to Beautiful Day by U2... The guy we were having the conversation with earlier could hear the song, probably because I have a bad habit of listening to my music on the highest volume level possible. Upon hearing the chorus, he sang along a little, then mentioned how much he loved it. Then he pointed out his favorite line in the song, "what you don't have, you don't need it now..." He said that even though times are tough for him, he reminds himself of that, even if he doesn't feel that way -- when it seems there are too many things he needs but can't have. I was humbled. I can be an ungrateful person. It's awful, and I personally don't like it. Honestly, these days when the thought of complaining first enters my little head, I remember that guy in the ER. I realize that I want to be more like that in my way of thinking, and I try to revert my thoughts so that I focus more on what I do have instead of what I don't.

A few hours later, while we were still in the waiting area, I could hear a mother crying. Her teen son had just been shot. It was devastating, even for me, someone who couldn't even fathom what it's like to lose a child. This happened a little while after that conversation we had with the guy in the waiting area. My eyes were opened again, this time to something slightly different than before, though. This kind of suffering happens all the time, it's the awful truth. In our little worlds, most of us are shielded from this and we're even ignorant to the suffering of others. So ignorant, that we often neglect those who are hurting worse than us. It is also true that we all live in an imperfect world, though, so each of us has experienced a hardship at one point or another, that's partly why we can feel bad for someone when they hurt.

Anyway, these events came to mind today when I heard Beautiful Day. Then I felt like writing something about my own experiences with pain and hope, so I wrote a poetry slam type thing. I haven't done one in so long. The ones I wrote before sound more like a slam, this one reads more like a poem, but I want to post it on here anyway.

Control slipped away years ago.
I learned how to speak long after letting it go.
Still, I never met the life that was not mine to know.
A world where double-negatives were acceptable,
But running on empty was never a way to stay whole,
Even though the incompletion would take its toll.
It created the incentive that would allow for something better,
Remember, back then, it was about biting harder on the leather
And sealing the future's hope with nothing but a prayer,
It was my alternative to alcohol for staying sane
My dad didn't teach me how to play that game.
He failed by using shots to water down his pain.
So God was my father when mine wasn't around.
Even when I could barely keep my feet on the ground,
The peace of my faith was the only kind to be found.
I paid the consequences for mistakes my parents made
A few times, it almost took me to the grave;
I offered a hand, but they couldn't be saved.
I crawled out of the nightmare awake and alive,
Leaving nothing but the waging battle behind.
Now, eyes closed, I go back to that time.
But I can wake to a life that's easier to handle,
Happiness doesn't die in the wind like a candle.
Love healed the wounds I received in the battle.
So I say to you with open eyes
Reading the words composing these lines,
It's more than just a matter of time.
It's about believing in something greater than evil,
Keeping it to show that even the enemy couldn't steal
That grain of faith that will allow you to heal.

An Ode to the Act of Cleaning and...

I have decided that there is a part of me that is very much like my grandmother, but not at all like my mother: I am a neat-freak.

I don't feel like everything needs to be perfect or I'll go crazy, but I'm not one of those people that can peacefully sit in a room, particularly my own, unless it's organized and clean. Well, I guess you can be a clean person without having to be organized, but lately, I find myself thinking about the next kind of organizing bin/container I want to buy, it's somewhat odd. I have a bin for my craft materials, one for my vintage purses, one for my journals, one for my meds/vitamins, and the list goes on...I used to just be what most would consider neat, but then, after I moved out of my dorm, I wanted to be more than clean; I wanted to be able to find what I wanted, when I wanted it (without having to waste half the day away looking for it). One of my aunt's is also this way. I'm sure she would even have a labeled container for her porcelain figurine dust if she could, at least I think so. But I eventually realized that I admire that organized quality in her, she even keeps a copy of all her family's medical records in binders that she's made for each and every one of them.

I'm sure I'm not like most 20 something year olds because of my somewhat strange desire to keep things clean and organized, but I've decided that, generally, it makes life a lot easier. It's amazing how much time I save now that I know where to find what, and I honestly feel that my mind is able to function better in a clean room.

You know, I think there is one thing about my mother regarding this issue that I did inherit. Although she's not known for being neat or even on-time, she's always been one to judge a restaurant based on the cleanliness of its restroom. It seems a little silly, but I also feel that if the bathroom is clean enough, then maybe they take the time to clean their dishes properly, too? I guess it's a mystery I'll never be able to solve.

Another thing my grandma does that I've recently started doing is waking up early. I actually used to be a "morning person" when I was in high school, mostly because I had to be. When I got to college, though (well, at least after my freshman year, when I realized it's not a good idea to have an 8 o'clock class when going to bed before 2 AM the night before) I slept in, sometimes until 2 PM. After graduating this December, though, I've tried waking up around 9 AM, and even though it's really tough to do if I don't go to sleep early enough, It really feels nice when I actually do it. This morning I got up at 7:45, but that's because I need to start waking up early for work.

I've noticed that I'm definitely one of those people that loves the morning, though. I think it's because I love getting to see the sun, and there's always a sense of peace that comes with a sunrise. Everything is new, and I'm usually feeling well-rested. When I first wake up, the mystery of what the day could hold is what makes me want to jump out of bed. The first few seconds before my feet hit the carpeted floor are those in which I am probably the most observant and awake. Also, everything is quieter than usual, and that silence brings a stillness that is the morning's own.

I really don't know if being a morning person and a neat-freak go hand-in-hand. I guess for me they do because I usually feel like cleaning when I'm the most alert, and that's usually around dawn. I might have also formed a positive association with cleaning at a young age, and I even think the reason why I feel like cleaning, particularly in the morning, has something to do with experiences I had when I was a kid. Every Saturday morning I'd spend with my grandma, the first thing she'd do after breakfast is clean. We never set foot out of the house until every room smelled like some sort of cleaner, maybe Clorox or Windex. And since I followed her around like a little duck, naturally I'd pick up a scrubber or paper towel and put them to use. I didn't mind at all, either, I loved spending time with her in any way I could because she was and still is like a mother to me.

My grandmother taught me a lot more than how to clean; she was actually more interested in the purity of her heart than the cleanliness of her house. Always going to church every Sunday come rain or shine was the norm for her, but she wanted to make sure she was respectful to God even when she wasn't in his house. One way she did that was by always serving others without complaint, especially her children and grandchildren. So it now goes for me that I appreciate a clean room, but there are other things that are a lot more meaningful to me, like the spiritual and emotional state of a human being. There is always something about my character that I need to polish when I reflect on the kind of person I am, because I know I will never be spotless. But, as I mentioned earlier, in those few hours after sunrise, I feel almost as if the slate has been wiped clean, and I can start over, even if there's a mess I have to clean-up, literally and figuratively. I am just thankful that I had someone in my life to show me what's important. Even though she is states away from where I live, there is a part of me that always feels connected to my grandma when I'm doing something like vacuuming the floor, or just trying to be a better person than I was the day before.

"Only with laughter can you win"

...and that's the title of one of my favorite musician's older releases, Rosie Thomas' "Only with Laughter Can You Win". True, it seems there are times when all we can really do is sit back and laugh at how ridiculous life is, but then there are moments that are harder to deal with; issues that are far from a laughing matter.

...and this is where "my story" begins.

A couple of years ago I started feeling pretty bad. It began with severe dizziness, really bad migraines, and then it progressed to other things like feeling pain all over my body. It honestly felt like someone was twisting my muscles around while I was trying to keep my balance on a ship out at sea as someone else hit me over the head with a frying pan; not pleasant at all. It was pretty unsettling when I first started feeling this way, considering it was in the middle of my college career. Up until that point, I never really had any serious issues, other than the sensitive stomach I've had since I was a kid and a few migraines here and there. So, obviously, I wanted to figure out what was wrong.

The first thing I did was withdraw from school for medical reasons, I would only miss a semester. I then went to various specialists and had tons of tests done so that the doctors could figure out what was wrong with me. At first they thought I had tachycardia, which is an irregular heartbeat, but further tests revealed that was not the case. Then I went to an ENT (ear, nose and throat doctor). He was the one who discovered via an equilibrium test that my ears weren't working the way they should, in the sense that they weren't helping me keep my balance, since the two were slightly unbalanced. Still, the tests continued, I had a couple of MRIs. The first one came back normal, and two years later I had another, which revealed that I actually had a cyst in my pineal gland. The doctors were not convinced that the cyst was the problem, though. So then (a year and a half later) I went to a rheumatologist, for the body pain, and it was discovered that I had/have something known as antinuclear antibodies. Usually people who have these ANAs (as I learned they are called) have an autoimmune disease. Basically, an autoimmune disease causes the body to attack itself; it produces antibodies to fight off the good cells in the body. There are a variety of autoimmune diseases, but one of them that I most certainly have, according to the Dr., is Raynaud's disease (it sounds scary but, really, all that happens is my fingers turn purplish/blue when they get too cold). Based on further testing, though, the doctor thought I could have either a mild case of fibromyalgia, lupus, or scleroderma. Neither of those sounded pretty. The doctor gave me a medication that would help with the body pain, and it did.

Lately, things have been pretty good. My dizziness is pretty under control, I'm learning to deal with it (basically, my body is readjusting itself to literally get use to it) and the headaches have also subsided. Just recently, though, I've started developing a new symptom: acid reflux. It's horrible, and it's a common thing that many people have. I saw the Dr. a few days ago and he prescribed me a medication that has worked very well to manage the acid. He actually plans on doing a few tests, because upon hearing my symptoms and discovering that I have ANAs, he started thinking that I might, in fact, have scleroderma, one of the diseases the rheumatologist also thought I might have. Still, there are days when I have unexplainable pain and, honestly, it gets pretty rough.

I try to explain my illness to people and it's hard for them to believe me sometimes; they're usually surprised that I have one because I am so young. I feel the same way! I get discouraged because I feel there are so many things I'd like to do with my life, but often times I am limited because of my physical ailments. I feel like I have to try so much harder than the average person just to get out of the house or even make the bed, when it gets really bad. Sometimes all I can do is cry and pray. My boyfriend is incredibly understanding and patient; he has truly been blessed with those two character qualities, among many others. But often times I still find myself having a pity party. I sing the "why me, God?" song all too often, and I even forget to thank him for the blessings. For instance, a few months ago I was afraid that I might not even graduate because I was so ill. I even had to go to the disability office at school so that I could have a semester medical excuse for my absences. It was tough, but I made it; thank God I'm a college graduate now.

Sure, I wish I didn't have all these weird things that add up to the symptoms of an autoimmune disease; it gets disheartening. Sometimes I don't even want to make plans with friends, due to the possibility of having to let them down as a result of my inability to hang out because of my illness. It's not the end, though. The truth is, I do have some very caring people in my life who support me, and all I can do is love them in return. So when I get really down about my illness, or I'm feeling really sick, I try to think of them and their love. Not only that, but I realize that because of love, I am not a loser in this battle against an illness. I see my illness as an enemy that tries to steal my joy and rob me of my hope for tomorrow. Though I see myself as the one who has the ability to overcome, not necessarily the physical hardships of that illness, but the emotional difficulties it brings. Love gives me the strength to realize that I can make it if I choose to; that is, if I decide to wage war against the illness by remembering that I have the ability to control my thoughts, and that I have a soul that isn't sick at all, but more alive than my body. However, the illness becomes the winner when I start believing that I am nothing more than a sick body, that I am limited because of my sickness, and that my life is being overtaken by the illness. Real Life is what occurs outside of the physically tangible; it's made-up of what gives a moment meaning and our existence reason. So as long as I still have a soul and mind that are focused on what lasts, like love and strength, then I am not really limited because my soul is connected to what will be there, even if the illness decided to pass and never return.

Some people wanna fill the world with silly love songs. What's wrong with that, I'd like to know?

I love that song, it reminds me of when I was a kid and my mom used to put on the Paul McCartney tape...yes, cassette tape, I feel old saying that. C'est la vie! Anyhow, this has been a very wonderful Valentine's day. I've always been one to celebrate this "holiday", even as a single gal, I was always a fan. I love the decorations; then again, I love decorations period. I'm a fan of all the holidays, but Valentine's Day is my second favorite, next to Christmas, of course. Anyhow, after eating some lovely steaks with my lover, the Whole Foods kind (the steaks, not the lover!), I sat down for a little while to read. I wanted to use my free time, since there isn't much of it left...I'm not complaining, though, I'm actually happy to say this because I have a job! It's wonderful; I love being employed. Well, I don't actually start until Tuesday, but it still calls for a celebration. Job=security=happiness...well, that's not exactly how it goes, but you get it.

Anyhow, so I sat down to read. I've been wanting to read a book by Kierkegaard since one of my English professors from back in my undergrad days (ha! Like they were so long ago!) kept going on and on about what a cool guy he was. Well, he's ok, not as great as I thought he'd be, but there was something that caught my eye when I was browsing through the pages of one of his books. I just read a line or two, and then I started creating my own ideas. Anyway, he mentioned something regarding God and suffering, and how God allows us to suffer so that we can better see his love. I'm sure that sounds insane to some, but it does make some sense...and here's why (I'm sure I'm going to have trouble wording this, but that's what's great about words, you can get so much out of them. So, even if you get something different out of the original message I intended to communicate, it's not a lost cause.)

Ok, I think my preface has turned into a ramble so I'm going to start.

So, after reading what Mr. K from back in the day had to say about love and suffering, I started thinking about the relationship between the two, keeping in mind that I equate love with God. From what I know of love, it's a choice. I'm not the first to say it; I've heard it said many times. If love is a choice, doesn't that mean that there has to be an alternative, like hate? Obviously hate only exists in an imperfect world, right? But, from what I've just said, shouldn't it also hold true that love could only exist in an imperfect world too? Ok, after saying that, I'm sure many readers out there beg to differ. Go for it, I'd like to hear your side of the story. Hold on, though, I do think love can exist in a perfect world, but not love as we know it. There is another kind of love, God's love, which exists apart from our definitions of love. It doesn't have barriers, it is flawless, and it goes beyond a choice. It is indefinable, more so than what we know of ephemeral love. Sure we can say that when we love someone, we can't really explain how we feel, but we can always provide reasons as to why we love who we do. Right? Well, there's a love that doesn't need reason, it just exists. It's perfect and it's there in our reach. The catch is, we can't offer it to anyone, but we can easily accept this perfect love if we CHOOSE to. Though perfect love exists outside of choices, how we come to know perfect love is similar to how we understand imperfect love, because we are human. Having said this, I can now introduce the already-established concept that God is love. This is what I believe. If God is love, by moving toward him, we move closer to perfect love. We move closer to perfect love by giving it our all when it comes to human love. There's a verse from the Bible that comes to mind, "we love because he first loved us". Now I'm understanding that verse in a different way than I did before. Human love is an underdeveloped version of perfect love, God's love. We follow his footsteps, and even if we step outside of them sometimes, we're still moving forward; closer to God and the ability to fully embrace perfect love. Still, even though we may not be able to offer perfect love, since we are humans who obviously fail on a daily basis, we can still receive perfect love.

Human love is not the end; obviously there is more. Even if you don't believe in God, it's hard to admit that there couldn't be more, think about it. Why do we have this innate need to move forward and advance as humans? We want to progress; we want better medications, that requires growth. In just ten years, we'll be more knowledgeable. It's in our best interest to move forward, too. Think about it, where would we be without immunizations? Umm...I dunno about you, but I have a really bad case of asthma, so I'd be dead right now. You can even go so far as to say that we even try to better our ways of loving, why are there so many therapists? Obviously we don't want to repeat the mistakes of those who hurt us; we want functional families. It used to be okay for husbands to so-called "chastise" their wives if they "disobeyed" them, and that's far from the case today. These days abuse is completely wrong, in any shape or form. Ok, so all this goes to show that the human race has progressed, and is continuing to advance in various ways. We are all, as a general group, trying to create a better place for ourselves by reaching new goals, whether they be in the medical field or the food industry. One day, we'd like to reach a state of perfection, where disease is a thing of the past and death is not even a lingering memory. Similarly, we'd all like to experience perfect love. I doubt anyone could argue that, even the angriest person wants to be loved. Usually it seems the angriest people are the ones who are crying out for love the loudest. We're all reaching for something that exists in the future, and for me that final goal we're really aiming at is God, since that's how I define perfect love.

BUT. And there's always a but, even if there aren't big enough pants to cover it :)...as I was saying earlier, from what we know of human love, aside from God's love, it couldn't exist in a state of perfection. Our little minds can only comprehend the kind of love that requires choice. All we know is that if love is real, the person chooses to love you and that's what makes it so valuable. They might pick you out among a crowd of people, and yet you're the one who catches their eye; the one they're later walking down the aisle with after exchanging vows. Before I started thinking about this, I wanted to make the claim that love could only exist in a state of imperfection. I'm sure that sounds far from what you're used to hearing. From how I was understanding it, though, love required a choice...then I realized that perfect love is not limited, and even choices are limited...so these rules do not hold for perfect love. So...sure, PERFECT LOVE could exist in a PERFECT WORLD. I don't know how that world works, though. It's a world where there's something that transcends free will's necessity, and the need to make choices in order to feel fulfilled and appreciated as an individual. I guess I could even say that in a perfect world choices don't exist, but we humans would then jump to make the claim that that's not really a perfect world. But who are we to say what perfect is? I know I've felt perfect love, I've experienced God's love, but, again, it can't be explained. Also, on a daily basis we're moving forward, we're wanting that perfection, even if we don't exactly know what it is. To me, though, the reason why we even have this drive, this need to move forward and advance, is because we all have a longing for something perfect, something stable and inhuman, or who I know to be God.

Again, I'm sorry if I've jumped around from one thought to another without fully explaining myself. Really, this is like a mental mosaic...there are a ton of pieces that can fit together in many ways to make more than one picture.