"THERE IS A LIGHT THAT NEVER GOES OUT"

UPDATE: I'm back. I don't have breast (or any other) fucking cancer. And, if ever anyone wants to stick a needle into your boob, see if you can negotiate that. Kidding. Very kidding. it sucked, but it felt good to leave knowing the 411. Anyway, it's a relief. The sun is shining today, so I'm going to go enjoy it. But, go ahead and read this post, all that was on my mind before I knew that.

You know how people have big life-changing experiences, and say they've changed forever and can't take another day for granted, but then a few weeks or months down the road, they're right back to being a self-involved düsh? I wonder what the world would be like if we really did learn and grow from terrifying experiences? What if, when things happened to us that frightened us to the bones, it really did become the very last day we ever took for granted?

I didn't sit down to blog this morning. I sat down to just write. But, as I started to write, it felt like a blog post to me. So, here we are.

I'm having a follow-up blood test in about two hours. I am healthy; I don't have any reason to worry. I have a predisposition from the ol' gene pool, so I am proactive and screen routinely and it's always been totally fine. It's probably just an error this time. No biggie at all. It's nice when people say Oh, it'll be fine, and it probably will be, but I have, after all, lived long enough to know that sometimes healthy people get sick, and sometimes bad things happen to good people, as the cliche goes. It's probably 95% likely that I am healthy as can be. But, you know how it goes, people do sometimes get sick, people do sometimes get bad news, routine health screenings are how bad things get caught and subsequently dealt with. So, I'm not freaking out, thinking this is a big drama. No, I'm really just sort of thinking of the possibilities, which I think is pretty human. If today brings ungood news, I am going to deal with it and not be a wimp or succumb to negativity or any of that shit. If there is any ungood news at all, which there probably will not be.

But, who wouldn't play the what-if game? Mermaidhead will read this, working in the medical field as she does, and roll her eyes and tell me it's nothing and tell me to educate myself. Which I have, to the best of my ability. Of course it probably is nothing, but it's not impossible that it's more than nothing. Not impossible.

But there isn't anything I can do about it right now, two hours before this blood test, except do what I do best... get it out, write it down, write it out.

I went to shul last night. I didn't mean to. I mean, wait, okay. I was going to go to shul and get a little dinner with Leah, then I cancelled because I wasn't feeling like I would be good company, and this news of possibility was only a few hours fresh to me, so I was iddly about it and feeling tired under its weight. So, I cancelled, and started walking. I walked and walked and ended up in front of a different Temple and services were about to happen, so I went in. It's like I always say: I don't go to services to beg for divine favors from the ether, I go to sit and just be and think and see how I fit into the world and its situations and how I can best think of my circumstances, how quickly circumstances could change, be glad for things as they are, get a little perspective, find a strange comfort of connectedness in the familiar Hebrew filling the room that I know by heart, and to feel a group of people around me-- not just the people in the room, not even just Jews, per se, but the people that I know and the people that I probably don't even realize care for me as much as they do. Sometimes sitting in a room full of people makes me feel isolated and awkward, but other times, it reminds me I have friends and family and chosen-family all over the place that love me and have my back, and if the shit hits the fan today, or if the shit does not hit the fan today, I'll do whatever needs to be done and work it out and I'll be okay.

I sat near the back and felt calmed as the Rabbi sang the familiar Hebrew. As she (the Rabbi) moved from tune to tune, I was shocked to hear a man following along, horribly and loudly. People turned around to smirk and hear this guy belting everything out, myself included, but really, as I sat there, I started thinking about this guy. He didn't give a rat's ass how well he sang, or who heard him, or what ears he offended. He was committed to being there and being completely uninhibited and singing with chutzpah and getting into what he was doing.

Maybe he already had a life-changing experience and really did change forever and decided there was no point in being pastel, in doing things half-heartedly. Maybe, he spent years wishing he could sing out and never did and one day he said fuck it and went for it and never thought twice...? Maybe so.

I left and started home and the air was cool and nice and smelled sweet like summer is supposed to smell, or how I remember it smelling when I was a kid. As I was nearly home, I saw a car with a bumper sticker that only said love wins, and although it really didn't have anything to do with me, it did and it made me glad to have seen it, like seeing a familiar face in a crowd.

Anyway. Wish me luck. You guys know how I fucking hate the fucking fuck out of needles. And bad news.

On second thought, I don't need luck. It's going to be fine. No matter what.

"I WILL SEE YOU"

I had such a great day yesterday!

First, the shul tag sale was huge and fantastic. I dropped a few bucks but left with a ton of fantastic stuff. Vintage clothes, artwork, tons of artwork, did I mention artwork? Oh man, good haul there.

Then, I went solo to the Printers Row Book Fair and it was fine. I say "fine" not "kickass" because I'm afraid that lit festivals I've participated have made me come to expect more sense of community and more interaction from bookish events. Milling around from tent to tent, in my opinion, makes it much harder to mingle very well. But, really, book fairs and lit fests are two different things. Anyway. For what it was, it was great. I talked to a few folks, introduced myself, handed out a few business cards, mentioned the new reading series at The Fixx and ran into a few good friends. I think, also, that since I was there late in the day on the second day, that the people I was trying to schmooze with were sun-dried and tired and ready to go home.

Then, I took the train up to Northcenter and my vegetarian ass went to Ribfest and met up with four fine friends. We ate-- yes, even I found something to eat at there (corn on the cob with chipotle-lime butter from Feed The Beast's booth), then we snuck out and hung around a little on hte back patio of nearby Gannon's Pub (go in and ask the owner about the photograph on the wall of his grandfather sometime), then meandered back to the festival in time for Baby Teeth, which was my entire reason for going to a Ribfest in the first place, really. Great show, too. I bought a cool baby Teeth t-shirt, but in the ado of chatting, the festival closing down, finding the right size shirt and such, we didn't do the money-end of the transaction and I'm a dumbass. I emailed and copped to my absent-mindedness first thing this morning when I realized. I feel like I can't wash it or wear it or anything until they have cash. I'm funny like that.

I still have the loaner phone, as I wait for my new replacement phone to arrive. I got a whole slew of text messages a little after midnight, just as I was drifting off. Oops. Come on, new phone, get here, get here, get here.

"I DON'T MIND IF YOU FORGET ME"

Random curiosities of random rank:

My Dad is home and says he just wants to sleep for two days and will call and tell all after that.

I have cable again.

I'm going first, this morning, to a good old synagogue yard sale (Hello to the grannies donating their designer vintage!), then to the Printers Row Book Fair to say hello to a few folks, then tonight, my vegetarian ass is going to brave Ribfest so that I can see Baby Teeth.



I have a loaner cell phone that is a dinosaur. If I don't respond to your texts or don't answer when you call, I probably have no idea. Or, I have no interest in talking to you. Either way, nothin' personal.

It throws me for a loop when someone completely misreads me.

Remember I decided not to cut my hair until my second novel is out into the world? Well, if I don't hurry, my moppy head will drive me bonkers.

Don't click this link at work! This was sent to me and I don't know what to think about it.