The Breakup

My doctor broke up with me. Actually, from what I can gather she broke up with my health insurance who then notified me through a letter. So I'm like the kid of the parent who got dumped--through a letter. And I'm heartbroken because I really liked my doctor. She was great. She always had time for me. She returned my phone calls promptly. She was professional and thorough.

I sensed bad things ahead when my employer switched to a new health care provider (from Healthnet to PacifiCare) last year and I had to do a lot of investigative work to even keep her as my doctor. But I prevailed, found out her number through covert means and got to keep her. And all was well. I've had several sucky not to mention embarrassing health experiences this year so I was all happy that I had been able to keep my doctor.

And then I got this horrible letter from this crappy new health care company beginning: RE: Physician Termination. It goes on to say that my doctor is no longer contracted with them. At the bottom it gives a number to call if I have any questions or concerns. So I called with some questions and concerns and was told they could not answer any of my questions or concerns!!!!!???????

On top of that they selected a new doctor for me. I'd gone to this doctor before when my doctor was out of town. This was because I had a wicked sinus infection and needed to see anybody. He prescribed antibiotics which killed the infection but left me with a number of issues down south that I would not want to go to a male doctor to discuss--particularly a male doctor with a moustache. It's not that I have anything against male doctors, I just don't want one for my primary care doctor because most of my issues are freakish female issues that I prefer to talk about with a female.

Anyway, it just sucks to be dumped.

Challenge

It may seem as though I have been swallowed into the vortex of negativity lately...but I have been up to a few cool things. The most important and most pressing at the moment is this...

http://www.mymschallenge.com/amelala

I am walking in the MS Challenge Walk this September 7-9. It's a fifty mile walk from Carlsbad to San Diego and the mission is to raise money for MS research. My goal is to raise $2500. The reason I am doing this walk is that my sister has this awful degenerative disease. She was diagnosed when she was fifteen and is now 31. Her entire adult life has been spent dealing with this debilitating illness and the frustrating array of symptoms that it brings...you name it...muscle weakness, numbness, memory loss, blindness, and the list goes on. She'll often say to me, "Hey you know smart people, can you ask them to find a cure for this?" It breaks my heart because the smart people I know write screenplays, edit reality shows, and teach rich kids. And so when she asks me this I feel like a total blowhard inept loser. Here she is struggling every day just to get out of bed, fold clothes, do her hair, not be in a wheelchair, and I am depressed?

Anyway, this is something I can do. Well, the walking part at least. The fundraising part is my personal challenge. I have a hard time asking for help so this has been a new experience for me and as much as I hope to raise a few bucks for MS and show my support and commitment to my sis, I have a feeling I will learn a few things about myself along the way.

Gifts

I found this today while cleaning my desk drawers:

It's a c.c. cummings poem copied, i imagine, from a book of poetry onto a plain piece of paper and cut to the size of the poem. This was a gift. An unlikely gift. A gift that saved me for an afternoon.

Graduating with my MFA was a major low point in my life. I felt burned out, used up, and directionless. I sold my camera that year and felt like I had sold my arm and pulled my eyeballs out with tweezers. But it paid the rent.

I decided to focus on getting my body back in shape after years of sitting in an editing room and rewarding myself with brakes to baja fresh and snickers bars. I dropped a lot of weight and looked better than I had in years. But my head was a jumbled mess and I remember being so withdrawn that I had a hard time making simple conversation with people. Fortunately, I found yoga around that time at the YMCA and would go sometimes six days a week.

The person who gave me this poem was far more advanced than anyone in the class. He had the flexibility of an overcooked vermicelli noodle and exuded joy in his poses. One day he told me that the size of my hands reminded him of a poem. I think I responded something like, "oh." The next class that we had together, he gave me, quite to my surprise, the poem.

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look will easily unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

e.e. cummings

No Way Out

I am going through a sick of Los Angeles phase. I am sick of the noise, the pollution, the people. At times like these, I get really immersed in the idea of moving somewhere else and focus on a place or region. I never end up moving but I learn a lot about other places. Right now I am living in (in my head--I don't just mean immersed I mean IMMERSED) the northwest. It is cool and calm. I live in downtown in a cool new converted loft in Vancouver, Seattle, or Portland. I've chucked the car cause I take public transportation everywhere. I drink a lot of coffee and tea and volunteer at the rep cinema where we show marginal films. I take a lot of walks. Life is awesome from here.

It's Hot

I'd like to write about how weird the last two weeks have been. How I stood up for myself at work and in doing so, unwittingly stood up for a whole bunch of people and how I found out how supported (even respected) I am at the place. It was interesting. I'd like to write about all of this but...

IT'S JUST TOO DAMN HOT. I mean it's like 1000 degrees. It's 8:00 PM and it is still just really really hot--sweaty hot, take off all your clothes hot, sit in a cold bath hot, my brain is mush I can't think straight hot. It's just really really hot. I think the earth is burning up. Well, at least Griffith Park. I can see the fire from my front door.

Thank God For Celebrities!

Paris to Prison!

Britney's Comeback!

Bad Day

Really bad day, bad fight, bad job, bad commute, everything sucks so much that I can't even write about it. I need a change of scenery.