Whirlwind. Turmoil. Heart pixelated and fuzzy, low-rez version of what may be. Hologram obscured by mist of maybe-emotion. Path has never looked more unclear. But then, I always did love a walk in the fog. When it clears I am somewhere new and bright.
Pebbles and bare feet. Pain. Pebbles become rocks then stones then smooth ancient boulders weathered by time and experience. Climb and your experience grows. Rise above the fog, laying like a Shroediger's blanket below where you have been... the world exists and does not exist simultaneously until the uncertainty-mist clears, revealing your version of truth.
Truth is what you painted in your mind, imagining what lay beneath the fog. Your life is what you paint. Your mind projects it onto the blank construct of two dimensional space; the third dimension is time and the fourth is your perception of it, which creates the illusion of depth. No two perceptions are alike. Every person is a Universe within, and creates their own Universe without.
No one Universe is any better or more right than any other.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Monday, October 4, 2010
Turbulent dream
What might this represent?
I was at work, in a three-storey office building. Not where I work now, or with the same people. In my dream I enjoyed my work a great deal but also enjoyed my free time.
My office was maybe a half mile from the beach. It was a small but busy town called Monica Beach, where I had just moved a few weeks prior. No, not Santa Monica. I don’t even know if this was California. Maybe; it felt further north than LA yet at the same time, looked a bit Hawaiian. Come to think of it, it almost seemed like a much smaller version of Monterey Bay. It was lovely, with old buildings and houses right alongside modern structures. Nothing in the town was over three floors high… it was a rule to keep the view of the ocean from the hillsides intact for all people to enjoy.
I took my lunch break, eating from a small vending cart streetside, listening to a couple of brightly scrubbed teenagers with battered guitars and shiny voices busk for small bills and change. Everything in this town was clean. No trash in the gutters. No dust on windows. No stains on the sidewalks. All clothes pressed and no hair out of place. It looked perfect from the outside. A living breathing 60s sitcom set, moved into a modern world.
Mid-bite into my second street taco I heard a thundering crash come from the direction of the beach. I choked, dropped the taco and whirled to find the source. I saw a spray of ocean water 60 feet high. I threw a dollar at the teens and another at the taco guy and screamed for them to RUN. They looked at me like I was utterly strange and stayed where they were. Fine.
I started running away from the beach, looking for high ground, when I heard another crash. This time, the spray fell like rain on me within moments of the wave breaking. I did not look back to see how high. As I was running, people were walking around and talking like it was no big deal that huge walls of water were bearing down on their town. WTF. Was I hallucinating?
For some reason, the doors to every building I tried to enter were locked. I found one house cut into a hill too steep to climb, but it had emergency ladders bolted to its side. Rung by rung I climbed until I got to the top. There was a door to another house and through the window I saw a woman and her baby. Several more waves had crashed, each higher than the last, so I beat on her door to warn her. She saw me through the window and clutched her baby tighter, asking me what I wanted. I begged her to please let me in. She looked very frightened, and refused. I screamed that there were waves coming. She still refused, and retreated into another room. I broke open the door and followed her.
Another wave crashed down, this one much higher, at least 80 feet. It was over half a mile away but level with my current elevation. I dragged her to the window to see. She laughed and said in 100 years the water had never hurt this town. They were protected. As the words left her mouth, a torrent tore through the street below us. Her mouth fell open in shock. The baby started to cry. I grabbed them and tried to get them to leave for even higher ground, but they would not.
I ran around the back of her house which was also built on a hill, and found another ladder. I took it to the top of that structure and found myself on a gorgeous rooftop deck. The view to the ocean was perfect. I could see the unending train of waves bearing down one by one. Each was higher than the next.
There were maybe 50 people on the deck. BBQ. Beer. Kids laughing. Adults with binoculars. I asked wtf was going on and was told by a woman dressed in her Sunday best that this was the annual Water Tower party, commemorating 100 years of safety from the waves because of the magic Water Tower built by the town’s founder. I screamed at her that they were NOT safe, that water was scouring the streets below them if they would only turn and look. She laughed. Ridiculous, they said. They would not see.
I turned to watch the next wave break. This one was over 100 feet tall when it hit the beach, and went inland for 1000 feet before breaking. The screams of the people below were louder than the roar of the water. Not here. Glasses of wine clinked. Soft laughter punctuated the sizzling grill. The meat smelled so bloody and salty like seawater. No one had any awareness of the destruction happening below. Every building at street level was underwater. In and out like a Fundy tide it rolled, every wave scouring the city clean. Pieces of mortar and trees and bodies like so much flotsam were sucked out to sea, never to be seen again. One bright red bit looked a lot like the dress the woman with the baby had been wearing… It swirled and went under. I shifted my eyes up from the destruction to see another wave.
As it approached I knew it was at least 300 feet tall. I did a quick calculation and realized it would inundate the top of even this hill. Behind me was one more hill with a tall water tower on it. I ran for it.
Reaching the base, I grabbed for the ladder. Gilbert Grape had nothing on me. I shot up the side of the base like an ant up a wall. At the bottom of the bulb was a hatch; I open it, scrambled inside, and made my way down a low narrow corridor to a door. Outside was the ladder up to the top of the tower. My arms were burning. As I pulled myself to the top, I could feel a strange pulsing sensation coming from the slick steel of the tank. I didn’t stop to think about it. I got to the top, now 1000 feet above the beach. The 300 foot waves had breached the line of hills from whence I had just come. Nothing moved below me. Aside from the water, and the strange hum below my feet, it was quiet. No wind. No birds. No breath. I gasped.
Suddenly the water tower started to shake. Earthquake? No… more like a vibration. It got stronger and stronger and the hum became a sonic wall of pain. The ocean below started to ripple like a shaken bowl of jello, frothy peaks of water topping it like whipped cream. Another wave was coming. The final wave. The tower started screaming. 1000 feet of water rushed toward me. 1000 feet of water aimed straight at the tower. I started screaming with the tower.
The scream woke me up.
I was at work, in a three-storey office building. Not where I work now, or with the same people. In my dream I enjoyed my work a great deal but also enjoyed my free time.
My office was maybe a half mile from the beach. It was a small but busy town called Monica Beach, where I had just moved a few weeks prior. No, not Santa Monica. I don’t even know if this was California. Maybe; it felt further north than LA yet at the same time, looked a bit Hawaiian. Come to think of it, it almost seemed like a much smaller version of Monterey Bay. It was lovely, with old buildings and houses right alongside modern structures. Nothing in the town was over three floors high… it was a rule to keep the view of the ocean from the hillsides intact for all people to enjoy.
I took my lunch break, eating from a small vending cart streetside, listening to a couple of brightly scrubbed teenagers with battered guitars and shiny voices busk for small bills and change. Everything in this town was clean. No trash in the gutters. No dust on windows. No stains on the sidewalks. All clothes pressed and no hair out of place. It looked perfect from the outside. A living breathing 60s sitcom set, moved into a modern world.
Mid-bite into my second street taco I heard a thundering crash come from the direction of the beach. I choked, dropped the taco and whirled to find the source. I saw a spray of ocean water 60 feet high. I threw a dollar at the teens and another at the taco guy and screamed for them to RUN. They looked at me like I was utterly strange and stayed where they were. Fine.
I started running away from the beach, looking for high ground, when I heard another crash. This time, the spray fell like rain on me within moments of the wave breaking. I did not look back to see how high. As I was running, people were walking around and talking like it was no big deal that huge walls of water were bearing down on their town. WTF. Was I hallucinating?
For some reason, the doors to every building I tried to enter were locked. I found one house cut into a hill too steep to climb, but it had emergency ladders bolted to its side. Rung by rung I climbed until I got to the top. There was a door to another house and through the window I saw a woman and her baby. Several more waves had crashed, each higher than the last, so I beat on her door to warn her. She saw me through the window and clutched her baby tighter, asking me what I wanted. I begged her to please let me in. She looked very frightened, and refused. I screamed that there were waves coming. She still refused, and retreated into another room. I broke open the door and followed her.
Another wave crashed down, this one much higher, at least 80 feet. It was over half a mile away but level with my current elevation. I dragged her to the window to see. She laughed and said in 100 years the water had never hurt this town. They were protected. As the words left her mouth, a torrent tore through the street below us. Her mouth fell open in shock. The baby started to cry. I grabbed them and tried to get them to leave for even higher ground, but they would not.
I ran around the back of her house which was also built on a hill, and found another ladder. I took it to the top of that structure and found myself on a gorgeous rooftop deck. The view to the ocean was perfect. I could see the unending train of waves bearing down one by one. Each was higher than the next.
There were maybe 50 people on the deck. BBQ. Beer. Kids laughing. Adults with binoculars. I asked wtf was going on and was told by a woman dressed in her Sunday best that this was the annual Water Tower party, commemorating 100 years of safety from the waves because of the magic Water Tower built by the town’s founder. I screamed at her that they were NOT safe, that water was scouring the streets below them if they would only turn and look. She laughed. Ridiculous, they said. They would not see.
I turned to watch the next wave break. This one was over 100 feet tall when it hit the beach, and went inland for 1000 feet before breaking. The screams of the people below were louder than the roar of the water. Not here. Glasses of wine clinked. Soft laughter punctuated the sizzling grill. The meat smelled so bloody and salty like seawater. No one had any awareness of the destruction happening below. Every building at street level was underwater. In and out like a Fundy tide it rolled, every wave scouring the city clean. Pieces of mortar and trees and bodies like so much flotsam were sucked out to sea, never to be seen again. One bright red bit looked a lot like the dress the woman with the baby had been wearing… It swirled and went under. I shifted my eyes up from the destruction to see another wave.
As it approached I knew it was at least 300 feet tall. I did a quick calculation and realized it would inundate the top of even this hill. Behind me was one more hill with a tall water tower on it. I ran for it.
Reaching the base, I grabbed for the ladder. Gilbert Grape had nothing on me. I shot up the side of the base like an ant up a wall. At the bottom of the bulb was a hatch; I open it, scrambled inside, and made my way down a low narrow corridor to a door. Outside was the ladder up to the top of the tower. My arms were burning. As I pulled myself to the top, I could feel a strange pulsing sensation coming from the slick steel of the tank. I didn’t stop to think about it. I got to the top, now 1000 feet above the beach. The 300 foot waves had breached the line of hills from whence I had just come. Nothing moved below me. Aside from the water, and the strange hum below my feet, it was quiet. No wind. No birds. No breath. I gasped.
Suddenly the water tower started to shake. Earthquake? No… more like a vibration. It got stronger and stronger and the hum became a sonic wall of pain. The ocean below started to ripple like a shaken bowl of jello, frothy peaks of water topping it like whipped cream. Another wave was coming. The final wave. The tower started screaming. 1000 feet of water rushed toward me. 1000 feet of water aimed straight at the tower. I started screaming with the tower.
The scream woke me up.
Friday, October 1, 2010
Mindless migraine meandering
I don't get migraine headaches often, but when I do, I just want to crawl into dark quiet cave, bury my head and body under warm soft fluffy covers, and cry. I got one last night, and I still have it this morning.
I have taken some pain meds, and hope they kick in soon, because I have a HUGE day at work today. I have been given additional hours and responsibilities (YAY!) which means more satisfaction and ultimately more money. The first day of the month, the first 8 days in fact, are the busiest, most stressful, and most intense, so I have to get better.
I have a gig tonight too... my cover band West of 5 is playing at Pounders, 9PM-1AM. I got used to short single sets on tour... now I have to do long multiple sets, singing and playing guitar. It's a fun band and I enjoy the work, but I really miss Lapis Lazuli and the music we do.
Bah. Maybe a blazing hot shower will help with this headache. I'll check in later.
I have taken some pain meds, and hope they kick in soon, because I have a HUGE day at work today. I have been given additional hours and responsibilities (YAY!) which means more satisfaction and ultimately more money. The first day of the month, the first 8 days in fact, are the busiest, most stressful, and most intense, so I have to get better.
I have a gig tonight too... my cover band West of 5 is playing at Pounders, 9PM-1AM. I got used to short single sets on tour... now I have to do long multiple sets, singing and playing guitar. It's a fun band and I enjoy the work, but I really miss Lapis Lazuli and the music we do.
Bah. Maybe a blazing hot shower will help with this headache. I'll check in later.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
A rug stands up and walks.
A general scenario:
1. Tell a multi-million dollar business prospect who wants to spend quality time getting to know your product that you available a specific two days in the near future.
2. Contact that business prospect when you don’t hear from them, asking why you have not heard from them, ask what’s going on for those two days.
3. Prospect returns contact and affirms desire to commit to meeting; asks for phone call the next day.
4. You do not call prospect.
5. Prospect sends multiple detailed messages in various formats to once again affirm strong desire for meeting.
6. You do not return any of those messages.
7. Date for meeting comes and goes, you do not return contact.
Would any of you treat a stranger, a business contact, this way? I highly doubt it. If you did, it either means that you are (A) rude and disrespectful in general, (B) did not really want their business anyway, or (C) take their interest utterly for granted.
Whichever it is, you have just lost a business contact that may have either fizzled out or may have had untold potential for gain. But you’ll never know.
Sure, things come up, shit happens, but if it was a relationship you value, you would contact your prospect unless completely physically incapacitated.
Now... imagine you have done this not ONCE, but a dozen times over the last many weeks. Not showing up for meetings, showing up late for meetings, and not observing the quid pro quo of equity during meetings which is essential to forming new partnerships.
Would you still have a business prospect?
No. When you make it impossible for someone to learn the ins and outs of your product, they lose interest in the product. They begin to suspect it is perhaps defective in some way, if you don’t have the confidence to sell it and be open about it.
Stay with me here…
So WHY would you do this to a person you are in a personal relationship with and expect that they will be okay with it? Apply the above scenario to a dating relationship and think about it.
(A) Rude and disrespectful in general?
(B) Does not really want my regard and affection (and potentially my love and commitment) anyway?
(C) Takes my interest utterly for granted?
I have truthfully lost interest in the answer. I wonder if I’ll even go shopping for a new product. I question whether I really need one. No one product can satisfy every need, but at minimum it should reliably satisfy the basic need for which it was acquired. Has one even been manufactured that does that? They don’t exactly come with labels.
The moral of this story is: Show someone that you are a rug and they WILL walk on you. Do you really want to still be lying there when the day comes that they need to wipe the dirt and shit off their shoes?
1. Tell a multi-million dollar business prospect who wants to spend quality time getting to know your product that you available a specific two days in the near future.
2. Contact that business prospect when you don’t hear from them, asking why you have not heard from them, ask what’s going on for those two days.
3. Prospect returns contact and affirms desire to commit to meeting; asks for phone call the next day.
4. You do not call prospect.
5. Prospect sends multiple detailed messages in various formats to once again affirm strong desire for meeting.
6. You do not return any of those messages.
7. Date for meeting comes and goes, you do not return contact.
Would any of you treat a stranger, a business contact, this way? I highly doubt it. If you did, it either means that you are (A) rude and disrespectful in general, (B) did not really want their business anyway, or (C) take their interest utterly for granted.
Whichever it is, you have just lost a business contact that may have either fizzled out or may have had untold potential for gain. But you’ll never know.
Sure, things come up, shit happens, but if it was a relationship you value, you would contact your prospect unless completely physically incapacitated.
Now... imagine you have done this not ONCE, but a dozen times over the last many weeks. Not showing up for meetings, showing up late for meetings, and not observing the quid pro quo of equity during meetings which is essential to forming new partnerships.
Would you still have a business prospect?
No. When you make it impossible for someone to learn the ins and outs of your product, they lose interest in the product. They begin to suspect it is perhaps defective in some way, if you don’t have the confidence to sell it and be open about it.
Stay with me here…
So WHY would you do this to a person you are in a personal relationship with and expect that they will be okay with it? Apply the above scenario to a dating relationship and think about it.
(A) Rude and disrespectful in general?
(B) Does not really want my regard and affection (and potentially my love and commitment) anyway?
(C) Takes my interest utterly for granted?
I have truthfully lost interest in the answer. I wonder if I’ll even go shopping for a new product. I question whether I really need one. No one product can satisfy every need, but at minimum it should reliably satisfy the basic need for which it was acquired. Has one even been manufactured that does that? They don’t exactly come with labels.
The moral of this story is: Show someone that you are a rug and they WILL walk on you. Do you really want to still be lying there when the day comes that they need to wipe the dirt and shit off their shoes?
Friday, September 24, 2010
Clutter is ending in fluttering frenzy.
I am on a deep cleaning frenzy. I woke up at 4AM and could not go back to sleep. Rather than lay in bed wasting time, I chose to get up and be productive.
I am, I will admit, a generally lazy and messy person, if left to my own tendencies. My mother can vouch for this; as a child and a teenager, my room always looked like a tornado had hit it. I just always had better and more important things to do than the simple task of picking up after myself.
Alas, this has persisted into adulthood, and I wage constant war against disorder. This is quite strange, considering that if my surroundings are messy, my life is messy, and I cannot effectively function. If they are clean and orderly, so is my life. Clutter in my environment equates to a cluttered mind that is utterly squelched. Setting things right clears room for creativity and motivated action.
When I was in Sweden, one thing I noticed was how people over there don’t have a mountain of STUFF. They keep only what they need, waste nothing, and do not hesitate to discard what they do not use. This results in an almost blank palette upon which they paint the more important aspects of their lives, loves, and leisures. This is an aesthetic I would very much like to emulate.
I am not a pathological hoarder, but I do tend to keep stuff that I don’t use. Every few years, I will grudgingly throw out, donate, or sell items I don’t want. I have despite this still managed to accumulate a house and garage full of stuff that I now see as JUNK. Well, this ends now. I am going to go through every single item in my possession and if I have not used it in a year, I am getting rid if it. Except my books and music… but even the bulk of that collection is getting moved to my garage, or boxed up.
Bathroom first. Tiny little room, really. And yet, I managed to somehow fill a huge trash bag full of old make-up, expired over-the-counter meds, grooming items that I no longer use, and general crap. Frickin’ wow. I still seem to be keeping an awful lot of things… maybe this is only step one, and in a few weeks I will do this again, and get rid of even more stuff. Once the clearing was done, I cleaned it from top to bottom, a good deep clean that I should do every couple of months (I live alone), but have only done maybe once a year since moving in. It is positively gleaming now!! Wow this feels really good. It took – are you ready for this – three hours. For one teeny little room. This project could take days, and that’s only the house. The garage is much worse.
I have to leave for work in a bit… I am seeing my boyfriend tonight, but will try to get one more room done before he arrives: the bedroom. ;-)
I am, I will admit, a generally lazy and messy person, if left to my own tendencies. My mother can vouch for this; as a child and a teenager, my room always looked like a tornado had hit it. I just always had better and more important things to do than the simple task of picking up after myself.
Alas, this has persisted into adulthood, and I wage constant war against disorder. This is quite strange, considering that if my surroundings are messy, my life is messy, and I cannot effectively function. If they are clean and orderly, so is my life. Clutter in my environment equates to a cluttered mind that is utterly squelched. Setting things right clears room for creativity and motivated action.
When I was in Sweden, one thing I noticed was how people over there don’t have a mountain of STUFF. They keep only what they need, waste nothing, and do not hesitate to discard what they do not use. This results in an almost blank palette upon which they paint the more important aspects of their lives, loves, and leisures. This is an aesthetic I would very much like to emulate.
I am not a pathological hoarder, but I do tend to keep stuff that I don’t use. Every few years, I will grudgingly throw out, donate, or sell items I don’t want. I have despite this still managed to accumulate a house and garage full of stuff that I now see as JUNK. Well, this ends now. I am going to go through every single item in my possession and if I have not used it in a year, I am getting rid if it. Except my books and music… but even the bulk of that collection is getting moved to my garage, or boxed up.
Bathroom first. Tiny little room, really. And yet, I managed to somehow fill a huge trash bag full of old make-up, expired over-the-counter meds, grooming items that I no longer use, and general crap. Frickin’ wow. I still seem to be keeping an awful lot of things… maybe this is only step one, and in a few weeks I will do this again, and get rid of even more stuff. Once the clearing was done, I cleaned it from top to bottom, a good deep clean that I should do every couple of months (I live alone), but have only done maybe once a year since moving in. It is positively gleaming now!! Wow this feels really good. It took – are you ready for this – three hours. For one teeny little room. This project could take days, and that’s only the house. The garage is much worse.
I have to leave for work in a bit… I am seeing my boyfriend tonight, but will try to get one more room done before he arrives: the bedroom. ;-)
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Sweden 2010, Day 21 - Homeward bound
I actually woke up about 10 minutes ahead of the alarm at my hotel in Stockholm. I got up, checked emails, took a shower, and got packed. Hammerdal already feels half a world away, which makes me very sad. I wish I could go there more often to be with my band and their families.
My friend Klas picked me up along with one of his coworkers, and they delivered me to the airport. He helped me get checked in, and we shared a cup of coffee and some breakfast at the terminal. Then it was time for me to head in to the gate.
There had been a problem when I originally booked this flight. I used Orbitz, and for some reason, I was not permitted to choose my seat during that process; in fact, I was assigned a seat when I checked in online that made my blood run cold. 22E.
Folks, I get severe motion sickness on planes. I have tried every med known to man, and nothing abates it. Dramamine works on boats, but not on planes. I have taken to just knocking myself out with Valium when I fly. However this is not always an option, due to my determination not to suffer jetlag. The only and I mean ONLY thing that stops the motion sickness is being able to lean my head against the side of the plane, in a window seat. The vibration and hum seem to calm my inner ears to the point where flying is tolerable, even pleasant. I don’t have to keep my head there constantly, but as soon as the nausea starts, I need to be able to use this trick to force it into retreat.
The flight was oversold. I told my story to the gate agent and she was very sympathetic, telling me she could not make any promises but she would do her very best to help me, as well as alert the cabin crew that there would be a passenger prone to illness on the flight. She came through, and I was given 25A at the window.
Have any of you ever been stuck on a long flight with the seatmate from hell? Well today was my turn. This guy was either Russian or Swedish, in his mid-seventies, smelled bad, and drank non-stop. He “slept” a few times, leaning over in my direction and landing on my boob, and his elbow would “slip” off the armrest directly into my crotch. His English was heavily accented and limited to “now we are friends” and “is very good, very good.” CREEPY.
I typically dehydrate myself somewhat in the 12 hours before air travel so I do not have to hop up and down to the lav. Well 8 hours is a pretty long flight and finally I just had to get up to pee. I left the safety of my window seat, and got in the queue for the lav. It was quite long. The air was also very hot. After a few minutes of waiting, I started to feel it… the light-headedness, the queasiness, sweating, and general discomfort. By now there were 6 people in line behind me and at least 12 ahead of me. Then the plane hit some bumpy air and that was it for me.
I felt my stomach begin to rise in my throat. I got dizzy and could barely keep my balance. I dug my thumbnail of the right hand deep into the flesh of my left hand, trying to control the nausea with intense pain. I began to hyperventilate. Another passenger saw my distress, grabbed me, and ran me to the head of the line, knocking other passengers out of the way, and shoved me into the lav just as someone exited. Just in time. The heaving was horrible and intense. A few minutes later, the worst of it has passed, and I just lay there groaning.
A sharp knock on the lav door was a flight attendant checking on me. I cleaned up and came out so see her very worried face in front of me. She put her arm around me and led me quivering back to my seat. Next thing I knew, she had an oxygen tank and mask, and insisted that I use it. I was so embarrassed, but she told me there is at least one passenger on every flight that suffers like this, and oxygen was required by their policy; plus it works! I acquiesced to her request, leaned my head against the window, and started breathing deeply. Within 5 minutes the sick feeling had passed. No idea whether it was the O2 or the vibration.
I felt much better when we landed, and had some time to kill in Chicago, so I went to fill the stomach I had to violently voided a few hours before. Chili’s was good… had a pork sandwich and a beer and all was right with the world once again. I made a bunch of phone calls and then headed to my next flight, which thankfully, was a window seat. I vowed to not get out of it no matter how bad I had to pee.
Our pilot touched down in the San Diego soup right on time. My feet hit home turf at 5:50pm. I gathered my bag and got picked up by my sweetie… damn it was good to see him. Things are still very new with him, but looking promising. He took me out to Seau’s for dinner – blackened salmon salad! – then over to Yuki’s to pick up my car.
It was awesome to see her again, and my kitties!!!! Pixel was holding court on top of a stereo speaker, but as usual, Nemo was hiding under the bed. We shared a glass of champagne, then I headed home. My sweetie hung out with me for a bit, but we were both incredibly exhausted, so he left for home and I headed for bed. I did not even unpack. By the time I turned off the light and began to drift, I had been awake for 25 hours.
My dreams were of Sweden, and cats in funny dresses.
My friend Klas picked me up along with one of his coworkers, and they delivered me to the airport. He helped me get checked in, and we shared a cup of coffee and some breakfast at the terminal. Then it was time for me to head in to the gate.
There had been a problem when I originally booked this flight. I used Orbitz, and for some reason, I was not permitted to choose my seat during that process; in fact, I was assigned a seat when I checked in online that made my blood run cold. 22E.
Folks, I get severe motion sickness on planes. I have tried every med known to man, and nothing abates it. Dramamine works on boats, but not on planes. I have taken to just knocking myself out with Valium when I fly. However this is not always an option, due to my determination not to suffer jetlag. The only and I mean ONLY thing that stops the motion sickness is being able to lean my head against the side of the plane, in a window seat. The vibration and hum seem to calm my inner ears to the point where flying is tolerable, even pleasant. I don’t have to keep my head there constantly, but as soon as the nausea starts, I need to be able to use this trick to force it into retreat.
The flight was oversold. I told my story to the gate agent and she was very sympathetic, telling me she could not make any promises but she would do her very best to help me, as well as alert the cabin crew that there would be a passenger prone to illness on the flight. She came through, and I was given 25A at the window.
Have any of you ever been stuck on a long flight with the seatmate from hell? Well today was my turn. This guy was either Russian or Swedish, in his mid-seventies, smelled bad, and drank non-stop. He “slept” a few times, leaning over in my direction and landing on my boob, and his elbow would “slip” off the armrest directly into my crotch. His English was heavily accented and limited to “now we are friends” and “is very good, very good.” CREEPY.
I typically dehydrate myself somewhat in the 12 hours before air travel so I do not have to hop up and down to the lav. Well 8 hours is a pretty long flight and finally I just had to get up to pee. I left the safety of my window seat, and got in the queue for the lav. It was quite long. The air was also very hot. After a few minutes of waiting, I started to feel it… the light-headedness, the queasiness, sweating, and general discomfort. By now there were 6 people in line behind me and at least 12 ahead of me. Then the plane hit some bumpy air and that was it for me.
I felt my stomach begin to rise in my throat. I got dizzy and could barely keep my balance. I dug my thumbnail of the right hand deep into the flesh of my left hand, trying to control the nausea with intense pain. I began to hyperventilate. Another passenger saw my distress, grabbed me, and ran me to the head of the line, knocking other passengers out of the way, and shoved me into the lav just as someone exited. Just in time. The heaving was horrible and intense. A few minutes later, the worst of it has passed, and I just lay there groaning.
A sharp knock on the lav door was a flight attendant checking on me. I cleaned up and came out so see her very worried face in front of me. She put her arm around me and led me quivering back to my seat. Next thing I knew, she had an oxygen tank and mask, and insisted that I use it. I was so embarrassed, but she told me there is at least one passenger on every flight that suffers like this, and oxygen was required by their policy; plus it works! I acquiesced to her request, leaned my head against the window, and started breathing deeply. Within 5 minutes the sick feeling had passed. No idea whether it was the O2 or the vibration.
I felt much better when we landed, and had some time to kill in Chicago, so I went to fill the stomach I had to violently voided a few hours before. Chili’s was good… had a pork sandwich and a beer and all was right with the world once again. I made a bunch of phone calls and then headed to my next flight, which thankfully, was a window seat. I vowed to not get out of it no matter how bad I had to pee.
Our pilot touched down in the San Diego soup right on time. My feet hit home turf at 5:50pm. I gathered my bag and got picked up by my sweetie… damn it was good to see him. Things are still very new with him, but looking promising. He took me out to Seau’s for dinner – blackened salmon salad! – then over to Yuki’s to pick up my car.
It was awesome to see her again, and my kitties!!!! Pixel was holding court on top of a stereo speaker, but as usual, Nemo was hiding under the bed. We shared a glass of champagne, then I headed home. My sweetie hung out with me for a bit, but we were both incredibly exhausted, so he left for home and I headed for bed. I did not even unpack. By the time I turned off the light and began to drift, I had been awake for 25 hours.
My dreams were of Sweden, and cats in funny dresses.
Sweden 2010, Day 20
Ah….. it felt good to wake up in a warm room alone. But I’ll admit, I sort of missed the chorus of snores which have started my last many mornings on tour.
I padded downstairs. Deanne and Bertil have already left for work, but they started the coffee for me, and I helped myself to some of Bertil’s home-made bread and cheese for breakfast. My clothes were still not dry from yesterday, so as the dryer twirled and hummed, I sat down to blog and pet their cats, and started thinking about home.
I decided to make a random list of the things I miss about home, so I will feel better about leaving Hammerdal.
Rubios. A Cabo Plate drenched in about a gallon of their salsa picante. The food over here is generally bland compared to what I am used to.
Starbucks Coffee. Hell I don’t even like Starbuck’s, but going for weeks without the comforting and familiar presence of a Starbuck’s on every corner has upset my equilibrium a bit.
7-11. My usual stop before work every morning for coffee, lotto, and conversation with the owners.
Work. Crazy, huh? I miss June and Bill and Dan and Janie, and Pepper has left for college now. I really enjoy the work I do for them and am eager to dive back in.
West of 5. My cover band. It’s fun playing music with them, and we have a gig coming up the Sunday after I return. I have to hurry up and get my head adjusted back into that game. They are also wonderful friends and I can’t wait to get caught up with them!
My FRIENDS!! Oh my god I really miss my best friends Jackson and Yuki, Jeff and Cindy, Jesus, Roby and the folks at church, my darling Greg, and all the other awesome people in my life back home.
My cats. My little furry bundles of love. I hope you had a good time hanging with the Jacksons and their menagerie, but not so much that you don’t want to come back home with me!
Warmth. It is so cold here already, at least to me. But I know after 3 days at home, I’ll be bitching about the heat and wishing I was freezing my ass off back here.
My car. I have not driven a car for weeks. I miss being behind the wheel, driving to a gig or to work on Del Dios highway, windows rolled down, stereo cranked.
Hm. I just realized that in my rush to leave for Sweden, I neglected to stock my freezer with food for my return. Damn. Gonna have to grocery shop as soon as I pick up my car from the Jackson’s. Crap.
My flight lands Tuesday night around 6pm, and I have to be at work first thing Wednesday morning. Then I have to pick up my cats. Then I have to rush to a gig Wednesday evening at North Bar.
Can’t real life just wait one more day to start asserting its dominance? Please?
Timo came by to pick me up and take me to Strömsund to visit one last time with his grandparents. I also got to meet his aunt’s awesome husband, whose house I stayed in for a couple of days when I first arrived in central Sweden. I am really going to miss them.
We came back to Timo’s mom’s house, and Johan and Mikaela came by to hang out. I had some trouble checking in to my SAS flight home for tomorrow and had to run back and forth to the computer from the dinner table. They made moose stew. Bertil killed it himself. Pretty cool.
We left for the airport around 5:15. On the drive there, it seemed to me that the sky here in the North is a lot closer to the ground than at home. Does that make sense to you? It just seems to hug the earth more tightly, like the ground has reached up and drawn it in, clinging to the warmth. The clouds were many-layered… thin icy veils at high altitude that sparkled with opalescence when the sun shone though… large long clouds like vanilla custard resided mid-sky, and puffy grayish marshmallow clouds hung like bulky chandeliers, tinkling big drops of rain every few minutes as though to remind both earth and sky who has the REAL power here. A bit of rainbow dropped to the earth and stood there for awhile before fading from the brightness of the sun. I do not want to leave here. The sky alone is reason to stay, not to mention the family I have acquired here. I am cursed with wanderlust, but this is one of only a few places that have captured my heart and wanted to keep it.
Timo, Johan, and Mikaela came into the airport with me, and we said our goodbyes… until next time. I cried like a baby. I am going to miss them so much…. So much….
I landed in Stockholm and my friend Klas picked me up. He had booked a hotel for me in Barkarby, near his home, about 20 minutes from the airport. He showed me his apartment which he is remodeling… the tiles look amazing! I am sad that I did not get to meet his wife though… she was very tired and still traveling home from work. We went to Max because I was suddenly hungry, and I ate and we talked for about an hour. He took me back to my hotel, and played me a couple of tunes from his band. They’re pretty good, and should have a singer soon. Another good friend I have made!
So here I sit, my last night in Sweden, until the next tour. It looks as though this might happen as soon as April or May next year. We are working with a very competent booking agent now, so gigs should be much better, like most of our gigs this year were. Plus, Mr. Black might be ready around that time to release our CD and video. Maybe 2011 will finally be the year I make something of myself in music… after so many years, it’s about time.
I am going to bed with a heavy heart, but will wake up eager to resume my life in San Diego. I will see all of you at home very soon; and I’ll be back here before you know.
Love to all!
I padded downstairs. Deanne and Bertil have already left for work, but they started the coffee for me, and I helped myself to some of Bertil’s home-made bread and cheese for breakfast. My clothes were still not dry from yesterday, so as the dryer twirled and hummed, I sat down to blog and pet their cats, and started thinking about home.
I decided to make a random list of the things I miss about home, so I will feel better about leaving Hammerdal.
Rubios. A Cabo Plate drenched in about a gallon of their salsa picante. The food over here is generally bland compared to what I am used to.
Starbucks Coffee. Hell I don’t even like Starbuck’s, but going for weeks without the comforting and familiar presence of a Starbuck’s on every corner has upset my equilibrium a bit.
7-11. My usual stop before work every morning for coffee, lotto, and conversation with the owners.
Work. Crazy, huh? I miss June and Bill and Dan and Janie, and Pepper has left for college now. I really enjoy the work I do for them and am eager to dive back in.
West of 5. My cover band. It’s fun playing music with them, and we have a gig coming up the Sunday after I return. I have to hurry up and get my head adjusted back into that game. They are also wonderful friends and I can’t wait to get caught up with them!
My FRIENDS!! Oh my god I really miss my best friends Jackson and Yuki, Jeff and Cindy, Jesus, Roby and the folks at church, my darling Greg, and all the other awesome people in my life back home.
My cats. My little furry bundles of love. I hope you had a good time hanging with the Jacksons and their menagerie, but not so much that you don’t want to come back home with me!
Warmth. It is so cold here already, at least to me. But I know after 3 days at home, I’ll be bitching about the heat and wishing I was freezing my ass off back here.
My car. I have not driven a car for weeks. I miss being behind the wheel, driving to a gig or to work on Del Dios highway, windows rolled down, stereo cranked.
Hm. I just realized that in my rush to leave for Sweden, I neglected to stock my freezer with food for my return. Damn. Gonna have to grocery shop as soon as I pick up my car from the Jackson’s. Crap.
My flight lands Tuesday night around 6pm, and I have to be at work first thing Wednesday morning. Then I have to pick up my cats. Then I have to rush to a gig Wednesday evening at North Bar.
Can’t real life just wait one more day to start asserting its dominance? Please?
Timo came by to pick me up and take me to Strömsund to visit one last time with his grandparents. I also got to meet his aunt’s awesome husband, whose house I stayed in for a couple of days when I first arrived in central Sweden. I am really going to miss them.
We came back to Timo’s mom’s house, and Johan and Mikaela came by to hang out. I had some trouble checking in to my SAS flight home for tomorrow and had to run back and forth to the computer from the dinner table. They made moose stew. Bertil killed it himself. Pretty cool.
We left for the airport around 5:15. On the drive there, it seemed to me that the sky here in the North is a lot closer to the ground than at home. Does that make sense to you? It just seems to hug the earth more tightly, like the ground has reached up and drawn it in, clinging to the warmth. The clouds were many-layered… thin icy veils at high altitude that sparkled with opalescence when the sun shone though… large long clouds like vanilla custard resided mid-sky, and puffy grayish marshmallow clouds hung like bulky chandeliers, tinkling big drops of rain every few minutes as though to remind both earth and sky who has the REAL power here. A bit of rainbow dropped to the earth and stood there for awhile before fading from the brightness of the sun. I do not want to leave here. The sky alone is reason to stay, not to mention the family I have acquired here. I am cursed with wanderlust, but this is one of only a few places that have captured my heart and wanted to keep it.
Timo, Johan, and Mikaela came into the airport with me, and we said our goodbyes… until next time. I cried like a baby. I am going to miss them so much…. So much….
I landed in Stockholm and my friend Klas picked me up. He had booked a hotel for me in Barkarby, near his home, about 20 minutes from the airport. He showed me his apartment which he is remodeling… the tiles look amazing! I am sad that I did not get to meet his wife though… she was very tired and still traveling home from work. We went to Max because I was suddenly hungry, and I ate and we talked for about an hour. He took me back to my hotel, and played me a couple of tunes from his band. They’re pretty good, and should have a singer soon. Another good friend I have made!
So here I sit, my last night in Sweden, until the next tour. It looks as though this might happen as soon as April or May next year. We are working with a very competent booking agent now, so gigs should be much better, like most of our gigs this year were. Plus, Mr. Black might be ready around that time to release our CD and video. Maybe 2011 will finally be the year I make something of myself in music… after so many years, it’s about time.
I am going to bed with a heavy heart, but will wake up eager to resume my life in San Diego. I will see all of you at home very soon; and I’ll be back here before you know.
Love to all!
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