I'd say holy shit. And I'd say that I was nervous and anxious and scared and worried. But, I'm not. For those in the know, it's not the day itself that I'm afraid of. It's everyday after that. To measure up as a husband, a father figure, a friend, a supporter, a lover, how does one know that he's doing that shit right? How do I know that I'm not going to fuck it all up? I'm gonna stick it out with faith and hard work. Cuz really, that's all that there is.
Funny thing is, everyone sees me cool as a cucumber. There's not a quiver in my voice, a waver in my gate, or weakness in posture. If you happened to hit me in the back of my head with a 2 x 4, I'd probably just turn around and laugh at you. I'm as confident as I've ever been at anything. My body, however, is doing things that doesn't necessarily reflect my inner strength. I've had strep throat the past several days. I have been allergic to two different versions of the antibiotics given to me for the strep breaking out in outrageous hives bordering on lookin like a leper. And, while actually getting over both breaking out in fantastical hives and the inability to swallow things that weren't pure liquid, my gout has started to act up. Fuck you, body. My spirit is stronger than you. You're not gonna make me limp during my wedding or fall down or wheeze or drop dead. So knock it the fuck off.
For those of you fuckers not making it to Tucson, send me and Elissa the good love and prayers. |
For those who are not on my brother's LJ, my mom won the car. When I asked her what kind of car it was, she responded: "It's a RED car." Way to go mom. Now for them English lessons.
Thanks to any and all who voted. For those of you who didn't vote, go fuck yourselves. For those of you who voted against her, I'll see you in hell, buddy. |
My mom is a top five finalist in a pro-am dance competition where she can win a car. Her dance will be featured tomorrow night (Friday, 1/25) at the D.C. Convention Center at 6:00 PM. For those who are about it, I am going to try and caravan as many people as I can with me tomorrow and leave Silver Spring at 5:00 PM. The admission is $6 with a printout of the homepage from Autotrader.com. I'll have a handful for those who would like to use them. After the show, we can do whatever people may be down with. Judging will be done by professionals, members of the audience and an online tally. So, as opposed to the upcoming U.S. presidential election, your vote will actually count.
Check out this link to see my mom's submitted finalist video: http://www.washingtonautoshow.org/contest.cfm In the middle of the page in red/white lettering, click on "Finalist Video Gallery". There will be a picture of five different folks. Above those pictures, choose the 50+ category. My mom is on the right hand side. There are four other folks there and I don't think they are anywhere near as graceful as she. Mind you, she just turned 61 last week. Click her picture to see a video of her doing an international style (smooth) tango. You can also click INFO for a short bio. Even if you can't come, you can still vote for her tomorrow evening online. C'mon folks. Help my mom win a car. It would be a nice wedding present for me and my girl.
You can call me on my cell if you would like to hook up. Or, just respond to this post by early tomorrow. |
I may need it.
Total surprise. Check.
In front of lots of folks. Check.
Our song playing in the background while on one knee. Check.
Cameraman. Check.
Hotel suite. Check.
Bottle of Brut from the Champagne region of France. Check.
Five-year-old Cabernet Sauvignon. Check.
Approval from her folks. Check.
Friends and loved ones for support. Check.
Growing a pair to pull this off. Needed. |
Maynard that skinny little fucker with the voice of gold, gives up his back to go into a beautiful hip throw, back mount with grapevine, rear naked choke, and then still sings. Lights go out, he's still singing. Lights come back on, the fucker has the dude in full mount and he's still frickin singing. I love Tool. And so should you.
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| » Cancer Free |
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As many of you know, two weeks ago today, Elissa had a bilateral mastectomy due to a recurrence of breast cancer. This has been harrowing and suckage to say the least. Easily, this has been the longest two weeks of our lives. I've been holding on to "light at the end of the tunnel" and "look forward never backward" cliches just to keep a modicum of my sanity.
Two days prior to her surgery, she spoke at a conference for the Maryland chapter of the Susan G. Komen Foundation. It was there that I met the author of Breast Cancer Husband, Marc Silver, who was also a presenter at the conference. After his speech, we had a goodly conversation regarding my upcoming responsibilities, future hardships and the general shit that was going to come my way rather quickly. Funny that I had never considered myself pigeon holed into some kind of role that I was highly unprepared for. I had gleaned a little from his book prior to meeting him and felt a bit awkward engaging a stranger with some very personal shit. Considering that he is the first person to write a book about and for the partners of breast cancer fighters, I was a bit unnerved and, for the first time ever, felt socially overwhelmed(the saving grace to even the playing field was that I fixed his LCD during his presentation while A/V folks bungled around doing jack squat). He was genuine in his concern and had a lot of practical know-how to begin tackling the torrent of emotions, the logistics of the disease and its treatments, and the strain on our relationship(s) this fucking thing presents. We exchanged numbers and wished each other good luck.
From that point, I started to truly accept the place I was in Elissa's life. I'm not some random boyfriend that gets the good sex. I didn't move in to save a bit in rent money. I'm not some dude who occassionally reads to her daughter or cooks her breakfast or plays with her LEGOS with her. If I come home late from a night out drinking after work, there are actual consequences to the ones I live with, the ones I love. And my love's pain affects me in ways I didn't want to know. It is what I dread. But at the same time, there's a beauty in stepping up to the bullshit from this. There's an unusual and borderline sick smile that creeps up on my face when I clean up where the dogs peed, receive indirect threats from her ex, kick in cash for the lawyer bills, deal with Samantha's homework, school lunches, and temper tantrums, or get jolted out of my sleep at 3 in the mornin with a panic attack fearing the reality that can be my love's mortality. Dealing with that anger, that fear, that frustration, that press, that bullshit, they all prove I am what I say I am to her. Her love.
We have received the final pathology reports from the sentinel node biopsies(which they took during the mastectomy). I'm happy to announce that as of today, she is sans cancer. I'd like to thank everyone for their well wishes and prayers. Notes and emails and flowers and stuff have been great and keep her in good spirits. Her recovery will be a little while before she can even put a t-shirt over her head. But she's strong. And I will help.
Apr. 30th, 2007 @ 08:21 am
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| » Dear Jesus, |
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Found a tumor on the right side yesterday in which she went for an immediate biopsy. I worry about the lymph nodes. She says a bilateral mastectomy is no longer just being preventive, it's a straight no brainer.
This is really pushing my no smoking bit a great fucking deal. You know what? Fuck you, God. I mean, I get it. You're Christian and great and want to kill Muslims and all. But, what happened to not smoting the fucking Jews? Shit, we just had a Seder last Sunday for Passover for Christ's sake. Are you mad that we didn't do it on Monday or something? You're really beginning to piss me off something terrible.
Seriously. Help her out here for fuck's sake. Like the custody battle for a child who will always idolize her father because he DOESN'T give her attention whereas at the same time she displays a ridiculous amount of contempt towards her mother isn't enough? The shitload of debt we're in cuz of school and fricking lawyers ain't enough? The horrifically low paying job even though she has a Masters from Johns fucking Hopkins isn't too ironical? It's not enough that not but one week ago on her 25th birthday we find out that she has a malignant fucking tumor on the left side? And only You know that I'm not the best fucking support system one can hope for.
Quit it already. You're a schoolyard bully. And if I could do it, I'd call you outside at recess and we could go at it all day and night, Big Guy. And yeah, you'd pound me. And yeah, I'd regret it. And yeah, I'd lose terrible like. And yeah, I'd test my faith and my soul. But I guaran-fucking-tee that I'd distract you long enough that you wouldn't hurt her anymore.
Please please please please just leave her the fuck alone. Or if you're not gonna leave her alone, how about doing something nice for a change? I'd totally be in your debt. Please reconsider this hateful shit that's been going on as of late.
Love,
A.J.
Apr. 6th, 2007 @ 02:26 pm
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| » Malus |
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I haven't smoked in 3 weeks. They say it's a sign that you can truly kick a particular addiction if you can overcome your particular triggers. In regards to smoking, I have several triggers: drinking alcohol, driving, after eating, stress and general boredom. These past few weeks have been trying. With moving in, establishing a new role with (for all intents and purposes as she refers to me as her stepfather) my stepdaughter, work being particularly strenuous and dealing with the new day-to-day stuff including my very own 2-hour 52 mile commute every day to and from work, I figure I'm doing alright.
I had bet a co-worker $20 that I could go 2 months without a cigarette. If I can accomplish this til the end of our time period, I get $20. If I smoke before then, I have to pay him $20 for every cigarette I smoke. It provides pretty good positive and negative reinforcement.
It's funny that I only post on here when I am particularly angry or scared. It's supposed to be a good vent. I guess that's the whole point of journals in general. Self dialogue can provide insight. Making this thing viewable to more than several can establish some kind of discourse. However, this week, I don't want to talk. I just need to drink.
Malignant is now the dirtiest word in the English language for me. I wish it could walk and talk and breath and feel. I wish it had children. I wish it had hope and faith and love. I wish it would stand in front of me. That way I could rip its throat out with my fucking teeth.
Anyone want to come up to Mt. Airy and celebrate my love's birthday?
Mar. 27th, 2007 @ 04:57 pm
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| » Again: Fuck you Cancer |
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Elissa will be in surgery today for a biopsy. After noting some calcification and growth along the scar lines of her original lumpectomy, the doctors figured it was nothing. Unfortunately for us, they were talking out of their collective stupid fucking asses. So some lab had "misplaced" some of her mammograms over the past year. And working from incomplete information the doctors were like, "Yeah it's nothing. Come in on April 23 and we will get rid of that." Two days later, they find the missing mammograms and are able to view the growth of this finding over a period of time.
So, they call us up and say, "Hey, I know we fucked up and all and we don't mean to scare the living shit outta you, but how do you feel about coming in for a biopsy immediately? How's 8 AM this Monday sound?" For those in the know, this is usually not a fun sign. She declines the Monday and Tuesday offering of immediate surgery because she was accompanying Sam on a field trip on Tuesday and didn't want to be out of commission for it. So she goes in today. And I cannot be there.
We will get the pathology on Friday or Monday. Again I ask, for those who pray, please do so. For those who make random wishes, throw her in there. Her birthday is Monday the 26th.
I'm taking her to our Bed and Breakfast in Havre de Grace this weekend. We're gonna have a $200 bottle of Champagne from the northern Champagne region. We're gonna eat at this lovely little restaraunt on the water looking at the Chesapeake. If it's cold, we're gonna light the fireplace in the room (actually it's the entire floor of a mansion. Apparently, they like me at this Bed and Breakfast). We're gonna cuddle and we're gonna do whole bunches of nothing while telling cancer to go fuck itself.
Happy Birthday to my baby.
Mar. 21st, 2007 @ 10:49 am
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| » Pick Up the Express |
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My girl is in the Express today. Pick up a copy. They're supposed to be doing a longer follow up in the Washington Post at some point. Also, she is being interviewed this afternoon for an NBC thing that will show Friday morning. I believe that it's a local thing, but it's still cool. She's speaking at a conference for breast cancer this weekend.
The move this past weekend was somewhat unremarkable. Hard to fathom that Anthony will not be farting directly in my face anymore nor will I be making a general mess of everything. Nonetheless, change is growth in this instance.
This morning I got into a verbal altercation with my girl's ex as he called me while I was going into work. Unfortunately, I had to tell him how it is and the conversation became unproductive rather quickly. Now, I'm heated as fuck and want little else in this life then to...not be nice anymore.
Feb. 20th, 2007 @ 09:56 am
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| » Fuck you Cancer |
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They found another lump this morning. For those that do so, please pray that it is benign. And if ever there was a good weekend to go drinking, this weekend would be fucking ideal.
Nov. 14th, 2006 @ 11:40 am
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| » N-E-S-T-L-E-Ssssss |
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My older brother would thoroughly appreciate this. Back in the day, we had this one Faith No More album that we played continuously in the car when we were living in the Philippines. It was one of the few live albums that I ever had. Running into these songs now on youtube reminds me of good ol' and bad ol' times. Funny to note that age can make you wax nostalgic about things you hated as much as you may have loved. Or maybe Patton's insanity brings me tearful joy that moves me to think of Transformers and chocolate.
Sep. 7th, 2006 @ 04:57 pm
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| » Maui Sucks |
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Whether it is seeing yet another gorgeous sunset over the Pacific ocean, swimming in a fresh water pool that is met by 3 waterfalls and spearing crawfish for dinner, driving through the road to Hana in a convertible or eating at Spago, I just can't say enough of how much this place blows. All this "perfect" weather and "fun" is rather disgusting. I can't wait to get home and back to work 11 hour days. This being in love deal grows quite tiresome as well.
Aug. 12th, 2006 @ 02:41 am
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| » Girls Play Here |
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Was one of the concert shirts at the Indigo Girls concert last night. Coming out playing "Closer to Fine" to start the show meant good things to come.
( Corniness Ensues )
Jul. 20th, 2006 @ 04:15 pm
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| » NIN and Bauhaus |
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Holy fucking shit. I'm not young and spry anymore, but there is no way this won't kick ass. Tickets go on sale in one hour.
Apr. 6th, 2006 @ 11:05 pm
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| » Completely bad ass week |
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Wonderful and awesome was my birthday. Thank you all. And then my car got stolen. Yay.
Mar. 3rd, 2006 @ 09:06 pm
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| » (No Subject) |
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I'm Snuffy. I remember when they used to make fun of Big Bird because they could never see him. That was such bullshit. Back then, Maria was the hotness.
Snuffleupagus
You scored 47% Organization, 41% abstract, and 64% extroverted! |
This test measured 3 variables.
First, this test measured how organized you are. Some muppets like Cookie Monster make big messes, while others like Bert are quite anal about things being clean.
Second, this test measured if you prefer a concrete or an abstract viewpoint. For the purposes of this test, concrete people are considered to gravitate more to mathematical and logical approaches, whereas abstract people are more the dreamers and artistic type.
Third, this test measured if you are more of an introvert or an extrovert. By definition, an introvert concentrates more on herself and an extrovert focuses more on others. In this test an introvert was somebody that either tends to spend more time alone or thinks more about herself.
You are somewhat organized, both concrete and abstract, and both introverted and extroverted.
I bet you didn't think you were Snuffleupagus. Let's find out why.
You are both somewhat organized. You have a good idea where you put things and you probably keep your place reasonably clean. You aren't totally obsessed with neatness though. Alloyius Snuffleupagus (and all Snuffleupagus') is not sloppy by nature, but he moves so incredibly slowly that it is impossible for him to be totally organized.
You both are about equally concrete and abstract thinkers. You have a good balance in your life. You know when to be logical at times, but you also aren't afraid to explore your dreams and desires... within limits of course. Snuffy generally has very basic interests, but he explores his abstract sensitive side when he plays his snuffleflute.
You both are somewhat introverted. Originally Snuffleupagus was very shy and was only Big Bird's invisible friend. However as he has aged he has started to build new friendships with new characters. Like Snuffy, you probably like to have some time to yourself. However, you do appreciate spending time with your friends, and you aren't scared of social situations.
The other possible characters are
Oscar the Grouch
Big Bird
Cookie Monster
Ernie
Elmo
Kermit the Frog
Grover
The Count
Guy Smiley
Bert
If you enjoyed this test, I would love the feedback! Also if you want to tell me your favorite Sesame Street character, I can total them up and post them here. Perhaps your choice will win! |
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My test tracked 3 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:
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You scored higher than 27% on Organization |
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You scored higher than 21% on concrete-abstra |
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You scored higher than 65% on intro-extrovert |
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Nov. 29th, 2005 @ 11:20 am
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| » repost? so what. not cuts. |
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By the way, thank you all for stuff and what not. I'm gonna vent some more and go break some shit.
Sunday, I read to her daughter and played legos with her. Surprisingly, she took to me as a loving authority figure immediately. She loved me so much that she performed a little "play" for me that her mother was not allowed to watch. At some point in time I scolded her for being rude to her mom and she complied immediately. She looked at me like a little angel. And I loved every second of it. Like my place in both their lives was as natural as anyone could tell. For a minute, they were both mine. And I belonged to them both. I made her mother promise that I could read two chapters from Roald Dahl's book next time because I read too fast. Fuck.
Yesterday, we find that the cancer is an aggressive invasive thing. There was a third word for it, but I started getting too fucked up in my head after hearing the word "aggressive". This means more surgeries (because they didn't get it all the first time) and definitely chemo. Fuck.
I read two chapters of the BFG (big friendly giant). It took a long time cuz she was lying down on me and looking at me the way that a child wonders why something is so frickin neat. She rested her feet on my lap. Sometimes, she'd lay down on me. Mind you, this child doesn't like to be held by her own grandparents. As a matter of fact, she doesn't like to be held by her own father. She pinches my nose, I get to bite her fingers. I squoosh her and she laughs. When her mother asked if we were done with the second chapter we replied in unison, thick as thieves we were, "NO". Giggling commenced further. Her mother made chicken and wild rice and string beans with toasted pine nuts. We ate dinner together. Fuck.
I am afraid. I am angry. I am loved in a capacity that I've never known before. I don't know why this is going so stupid fast. I hate this. Fuck.
Nov. 22nd, 2005 @ 05:45 pm
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| » (No Subject) |
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As some may know, I have fallen in love hardcore like. It's an intensity that can be easily confused with a puppy dog bullshit lustful love. Critics be damned that this is too quick and too engulfing and I'm not being careful about my feelings. I haven't felt this in many many moons. When I observe something beautiful, I can't help but think of how I can share this with her. When I smile, I want her to smile. It's an interesting thing to note.
She has been diagnosed with breast cancer recently. She had surgery not three days ago. They removed a tumor and surrounding tissue. Apparently, there's a 50/50 chance that she'll have to go through chemo. Though we're waiting on the pathology for that. She's so awesome that she made me muffins and an omelette yesterday morning before I went to work. We're talking muffins, people, muffins. You understand what I'm saying? The perceived sense of potential loss is palpable on my face. I am calm and peaceful when I think of her. I am destroyed when I think of her gone. And I'm supposed to be the strong one. WTF?!? She rocks and I can't stand it.
I just put my fist through a wall at work. Damn.
Nov. 18th, 2005 @ 02:16 pm
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| » (No Subject) |
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1. Go here.
2. Pass it on.
( my answers )
Aug. 19th, 2005 @ 03:17 pm
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rizalboy's journal
