Pain earned

Yesterday was wonderful. It really was. I woke up on my own (that took a while) and let myself linger in the warmth of the sheets for some time. I picked up the book I am reading (The Alchemist if anyone was wondering) and absorbed its message for a while.

Later on that morning, my aunt came and picked me up. We went to Home Depot to my favorite section--the garden section. We spent around $100 on plants. We took them to my grandparents' house, and we went to work. My grandparents were enjoying their last day at the Atlantis in the Bahamas, a well-earned vacation, and a nice way to spend the two weeks in between chemotherapy treatments.

Four hours later, covered in mud, sticks, leaves, brick dust (don't ask), and probably spiders, we packed up our shovels and headed home. It looked beautiful, if I do say so myself! We planted flowers and grasses and ferns in the two planters by the door that had been empty since I could remember (empty aside from ten million bricks). I crouched in the mud of Saturday's rain and weeded her roses. We raided the side of her house and her planting table for plants she wasn't using. My grandmother is amazing at taking cuttings from plants, especially plumeria which she has brought back from numerous trips to Hawaii, and making them grow. We planted them in the front yard. We washed the sideboards of the house, we hosed down the walkway. We swept, dug, and pulled until what was left was orderly, colorful, and alive.

My grandma called me this morning, and the conversation went something like this: "Korey Ward I love you."

I could hear the tears choking her throat.

She described to me how she entered through the garage and missed what we had done. My grandpa walked to the front door and starting banging on it. When she opened it (sounding annoyed, I'm sure) he covered her eyes and led her out slowly. She couldn't believe what we had done. We couldn't believe we had done it all in one day. I couldn't believe how dirty I was.

Wonderful.

My red-faced inner creative

So I like to write down ideas I have for things to write on, and I write them anywhere, on any available piece of paper. One place where I stashed a group of ideas was in a tiny notebook with necessary insurance information that I have been carrying in my purse. I also have a friend with a propensity to look in women's purses. She finds mine especially entertaining because it is large and I have been known to stow strange things in it.

So on one of these occasions she asks if she can look in my purse.
"Sure" I answer, because why not?
She starts to pull out various objects, like a collection of nail files, recipes I cut from Martha Stewart Living, and a full-size lint brush. Then she comes across the notebook. Before I can remember that I had stashed ideas in it and not just the phone number of my insurance adjuster, she has come across the page of writing topics. I can see on her face that she is about to read them out loud. I stop her. I blush.

She would never understand.

Similar experiences?

September 11

Just typing those words makes me shudder. Why does it feel as though it were just yesterday? I remember, as all Americans do, exactly where I was when I knew what was happening, although I remember not understanding it. Rather than discussing 9/11 again, I want to focus on what has happened since then. Americans were softened, scared, and caught off guard. We clung to each other in an attempt to reclaim the safety we no longer felt. A war started, and we were supportive, angry and vehement, we wanted blood. Once again, this was an attempt to reclaim something we felt was now missing. Then we began to turn, one by one, the more aware or more cynical citizens first, and began to hate the war, to resent it and all who supported it. We felt misled. We felt as though we had been reduced to sheep, duped and fooled into something that we were told would quell the pain, the anger, and the fear, and we became bitter and resentful. Once again, this was an attempt to reclaim something we had lost.

What America lost on September 11, in my opinion and among other things, was our innocence. No longer would the term "American" mean what it did before "the fall." Like the Fall of the Bible, we entered a post-lapsarian world and reacted in stages to the grim reality we faced. It was something more sinister and more psychological than pain, coldness, and hunger. It was a fall that had us challenging our sense of self, our relationships, our culture. Suddenly we did not know who we were, and we wanted someone to blame. We needed to know who offered the apple, and we needed to send that individual to Hell.

Was it hard to believe that the apple may have been offered by us? (Which I am not saying I necessarily believe) Or is it harder to admit that there was no apple? The question I am asking has very little to do with politics or nations, and everything to do with humanity. Did we face our greatest fear that day, did we face the apathy of our peers? Did we accept the grim fact that humans, in fact, are capable of such disgusting and terrible actions? Did we turn to one another in an attempt to blot out all of that hatred, (but it was so much worse than hatred, this apathy) and try to overwhelm it with love? Did we realize the futility in this pathetic facade?

How far I have come since 9/11...on that cruel morning I was a High School senior, getting ready for first period honors English, my favorite class and the sole reason I got out of bed in the morning. It was cold in the pre-dawn of 5:30 a.m. I was a much different person than the person reminiscing on this moment today. I still retain some of my latent cynicism, but much of it has gone by the wayside, thankfully. I was pessimistic (yes, more pessimistic) and my motto was, "if you're not pissed off, you're not paying attention. Fast-forward through my final year of high school, four years of trials, heartbreak, and the slow but necessary process of finding myself at college, one year of life after leaving Eden and joining world of work, and you have the person in a blazer and slacks, typing away at an office computer. Would my self today even recognize that self six years ago?

I hope not, although sometimes I miss her.

Goodbye summer, hello fall.

I love fall. Every year I feel refreshed and excited, even considering California's meager change of season. Sometimes I think that I am excited for every change in season, but I know I like fall the best. It is a beautiful and magical time, lacking the oppressive heat of summer. I do love summer's long nights and balmy breezes, and there is something about summer that feels like happiness, even after so many years have passed since I had a truly "free" summer. I think my excitement with fall also has to do with the school year starting, new beginnings and endless opportunity. While those days have passed, I retain the optimism of the early years.

Here's to fall!

Dude! This is so not cool!

So I really hope karma exists. Someone is gonna get it...

I was home on Saturday, not feeling well at all, and watching the Notebook. I ordered a pizza for Josh and I and he was on his way home from working from 6 am to 8 pm. I remembered I had a case of Pepsi in my car. I decided to run outside and get it. And I saw this:

Seriously, who does something like this? I am SO PISSED OFF!!!!

Events like this really make me doubt my faith in humanity. What kind of a people are we when we ignore the destruction we cause others to save ourselves the expense? Where I have to pay to repair the damage I had nothing to do with?

Take responsibility of your actions. Prove that you are a part of the human race. Try to think of others. Think of the danger we are all in when we begin to think of people as numbers or figures and not humans. Stop dehumanizing and start living fully!