my hero

here's the level of gratitude and thankfulness i aspire to.

"i'm profoundly deaf. profoundly. but i sleep great!"

-- marlee, oscar winner, dancer with the stars

god, you got some 'splainin to do...

i'm having post traumatic surgery disorder.

it seems somewhat like post-partum depression, except i have no baby to show for it. i don't know whether to be happy about that or not.

so not only do i now have no friends to hang with on the weekend unless i go out of town to find them, no health & no violin, i'm crushed on a new guy i can't have & my boss is constructively criticizing me at work.

how about the word failure to describe all of it?

being a complete failure, my worst fear ever.

ah. so this is part of the plan. to fix my fear of failure.

so now god has decided to do surgery inside my head.

i guess i should be happy now. it seems to be the only thing to do, to pretend that i haven't just lost 75% of the things in my life that were important to me. at least i have a job, 8,000 people in UBS won't soon. and i have an apartment. not a condo where my equity would be fast falling. i don't have MS, and i can still listen to music. my boss is free with praise when it is due, and gives a fair assessment.

so there.

i don't feel any better. but maybe i'm not a failure.

all my life my two top fears are not being loved & being a failure. we won't talk about the first right now, but how do you think i'm doing with that one? yeah, you'd be right.

i don't understand what's going on. god has some answering to do about right now, and i'm listening...

schizophrenic & proud of it

yesterday i was watching this tv show, columbo, & they had an episode featuring his eternally-absent wife. she was sleuthing out a ventriloquist mystery.

there was an interesting concept there that i've never heard before: that ventriloquist's are controlled schizophrenics. a brief google yields enough links that apparently this is not too far from the truth.

regardless of association with psychology, ventroliquism is alive & well, even on XM radio. and personally, i cheered on the vent that won america's got talent last year. he was fantastic. check this out if you want to read up on the topic more...

so back to topic - i conclude that people pick their professions because of needs within themselves. that is, those who can choose, which is actually a luxury, come to think of it.

my first thought of this was when the ventriloquist in the tv episode was performing for children. and the nun was saying wasn't he a wonderful man. me, the skeptic that i am, think that when men are drawn to children, particularly in the catholic church, nothing good can come of it. unless of course, it is baseball or some other sport they can use to relive their childhood through.

to make this personal, as i'm writing this i wonder if i, in fact, decided on a highly cerebral profession with speaking appointments & writing, to finally be considered "smart" instead of "cute"?

hmmmmmmmmm.

vengeance is mine, saith the wronged

i wonder which came first...

the ID of eliot spitzer -

or the FBI involvement.

the artist formerly known as violynist

in his surgerical plans, god apparently has different things in mind than i do.

he's apparently decided (or allowed it to happen) that i should no longer be a violinist.

communication of this event comes in the form of shooting pains down my neck, not only all day, but at 2 a.m. 2 days later, culminating in the worst excruciating pain i have ever felt after playing. this, after only playing one 5-minute piece, a jewish lament, sung on the way into the gas chambers. beautiful, haunting.

[there's no segue here to illustrate how shallow my tirade suddenly seems. just for the record, i notice this.]

so i today had to cancel my rare and upcoming playing appointments. which sucks, because when musicians ask you to play, you know you're good. that's the only form of good i'm stuck with.

it is time to acknowledge my days of playing the violin are over for good. oh, yes, there's that good too. damn.

i'm devastated.

somewhat like thinking one will never have children, a probability which i will also have to face in the next couple years.

sometimes life sucks.

this surgery thing, is all whack. sure, god, i say, violin has been the greatest stressor in my life. ever. but i didn't ask you to remove it too, when i signed up for this change my life thing.

somewhere, god is chuckling. not at me not playing the violin anymore, but at my shock & awe that, when he does exactly what i ask - lower the stress in my life - i don't particularly like the interpretation.

oh well. thank goodness i have tango. i would say thank god, but since he's supposed to hate dancing, i'll let him off the hook...

made from the mold of the moon

[copied from my myspace blog]
(ok, well, the sun, but moon sounds better. ;)

it's very strange to be a creationist & believe in astrology. but it happens.
lately it's happened to me b/c well, i'm very taurus! and the guys i've dated lately are well, very true to their signs.

so here's my odd theory...god had some sort of cookie-cutter mold that he created us in so we'd understand each other better. also, each of us have certain strengths that offset the weaknesses in others so together we're a pretty strong race.

i am thinking the astrological signs are something like species are to animals. (assuming species is the right word, or is it breeds?) like there are lots of kitty cats, each different. just like there are lots of people, each different.

then there's the number 12. like 12 tribes, 12 gates to the city, 12 months, is that so far-fetched?
call me crazy, but it's my theory and it makes sense to me. just make sure than when you call me crazy you're not wearing red, cuz dammit, i'm a bull & if you wanna challenge a bull you better be ready to run with them.

the great physician

it's all romantic to think of god as the great physician - that is, until he starts performing surgery on your life.

there is no question about it, surgery sucks. it's painful, you bleed, and parts of your life that were once there are now missing.

but then one day you wake up and realize, you ARE the new, better you. healthier, happier. but damn, what you had to go through!

we like to pretend it's all pretty & nice, what god does in our lives. like we should enjoy being refined in the fire (ohhhhhh, 3rd degree burns) or herded by the shepherd (not sure i'd like a crooked staff around my neck), or being treated by the great physician (ouch).

in fact, my very favorite bible text talks about god leading us by ways we know not, through the dark when we are blind (god as a seeing eye dog?). that's not pretty & nice either. that's just scary.

this all reminds me of the girl who preached at my church (which i didn't hear, but was recounted to me). she talked of the many sides of god, because we need many sides of god. that's for sure. don't try to talk to me about god being my father. let's go for the good shepherd, maybe.
anyhow, back to topic...somehow i finally woke up and realized god is a god of reality, not of fantasies. and dreams coming true is a product of blood, sweat, and tears - and sometimes our very lives. there's nothing sweet & nice about that.

my only consolation is that god has the end in sight with this surgery stuff, and that is a happy lyn (to be completely selfish about this application) that other people want to be in heaven with. becoming more christ-like means learning to live with people forever, and that also means learning to live with them NOW, and yourself too.

my other only consolation is that, since god has now done what i've asked, even better than i thought, i know i picked a good physician...