Garage Band

... your sunday sillies ...

Well, it wasn't the throngs of children I thought it would be.

No, it was quite a bit different than how I had it pictured in my mind.

I waited patiently, sitting on my little foot stool, outside Casa Paraíso.

In hand, I had my Sharpie Pen drawings of the first two notes I'd teach them, along with the list of names I had compiled of all those interested.

Nobody came.

Eventually, I saw one child nearing my direction.

Ah!  Dominican Time!  I see!

But alas, he was only going to watch them build the house next door.

So, I decided to take a stroll through the village.

Once more, I felt like the pied piper.

Not to mention, a little like the town cryer, "It's music day!  Do you want to sing with me?"

All I need is a solid brass hand bell to ring it on Saturdays when it's time to start!

One by one they'd follow, and when I was done, that list of 40 children was reduced to about 12.

No problem!  I'm good with that!

We all scampered to the beach in front of our house, and the children automatically planted themselves firmly on a log.

One problem: I had to yell above the waves!

By the time we were done, my voice was so weak, it sounded like it used to after an ear damaging concert when I was a teen.

No, this is not going to work.

I can't have them in my yard, because of the danger of the pool and puppies.

My foresight was right in that they'd be like Mexican jumping beans.  It's hard to teach, PLUS keep an eye on these little critters.

I don't need someone drowning in the pool or harassing a dog so much that they get bit.

So, next week, we're in the garage!  Our new digs!  The Garage Band.

No yelling, shelter from rain and safety from The Donkey who is sure to bowl over anyone who is close to the height of my hips.

Not to mention, we'll have the acoustics of an A-Frame room!

Furthermore, I won't have to watch them pee on our property.

I'm not kidding.

Middle of the lesson, they had to pee, and one by one they walked to the corner of our lot and peed on our wall right in front of me.

I think they had a bit too much fun doing this.

Papi was a bit appalled when I laughed about it, but I assured him, "Honey, they pee on our wall anyway, so it's nothing new.  The ocean is their washroom."

I can't tell you how many human feces we've seen along the shoreline.

Anyway, there are always a few trouble makers, but I'll tell you, if I'm not getting paid to teach, then I won't have them in my class.

I gave one a strict warning with the first set of 'rules', "You're here to sing.  If you don't want to sing, you go to your house.  I've told you twice, third time you go."

My Spanish was sufficient enough to get the point across, so he adhered to my wishes, however, I'm pretty sure I'll be learning his name first.

All in all, it was a fun 30 minutes and they learned 3 notes, 2 beats and a chorus of the song.

Afterward, one of the mothers, seeing that I was teaching children for free, took it upon herself to announce that she is Christian.

I suppose because it's something some people with religion do; help the children with no pay.

I told her, "I'm Jewish."

She touched my arm as if I needed consoling, and said, "Oh, that's OK.  You're still doing it for the kids."

Well!

I'm really glad that's 'OK' and that I have your approval!

She told me her son plays the piano at his school, so it looks like I have the beginning of the band I need!

Slowly but surely, we'll make it.

And I'm positive that more will join us next week.

I need that bell.

i believe in my ability to change the world on a small scale with the work i do

looking at the good

Sunday Sillies:

The good news is, I found the Sosua Synagogue!!!

The bad news is, they don't have a rabbi, so no services.  I've written back home to Rabbi Laura to ask if she ever found the person who could teach me from afar.

Any rabbis out there wanna live in paradise?

There are places you can move into that are ready made, no problems, and you don't need a gazillion dollars like we need to fix Casa Paraíso.

This house is a money pit.

When you live on the ocean, rust never sleeps.

Just as you think you've finished, there's always something more.

This morning, I happily opened a window to let in the cool breeze from the ocean, only to watch the bracket fall from it's wood to the floor.

Well, at least we got the clean water now.

I had the world's most beautiful shower last night.

It's not crystal clear and super clean like in Canada, but it no longer smells like I'm showering in farts.

Tomorrow, our roof gets started and within a week I won't be dodging monsoon showers in our bedroom.

Tuesday, our bed mattress gets here, which means Papi and I will sleep in the same bed, sprawled out and definitely starfished amongst various animals who are allowed to be there.

100%, The Donkey is not invited, even though she thinks she's one of the little dogs, and the littlest ones think they're as big as her.

Everyone is equal when they're a dog.

I wish they would treat cats in the same light.

I'm a little worried about Old Ghost Face, as she clamped her mouth down upon The Mrs. the other day.

The Mrs. hasn't come out of the closet since, unless the bedroom door is closed and she feels safe.

Old Ghost Face seems to be stalking The Bastard Prince as well, and I have to give her a stern talking to every time.

It's hard to do with an abused animal, because one simple, strong, "No!" and she cowers like we're going to beat her.

At least now she understands her name, so I can simply say it with that slow, man-like, authoritative voice and she walks slowly away from the cats.

I believe she's starting to understand that we're not going to lay a hand on her, unless it's to give her love.

I'm relieved that nobody seems to be bothering Psycho Kitty.

I suppose it's because they all know he's not a threat, because he's dying.

I was worried that because he was weak, the others would try to put him down the way they would in the wild.

So far, everyone just leaves him alone.

The drugs are working SO GOOD!!!

He is cuddling like crazy, as I try my best to hold my breath from the stench of a smell of a dying animal.

I am getting used to it, because I'm so grateful to have him act like he did before.

Up on the counters!!!

He's even ass up in the sink, looking for remainders of human food he can hunt and kill!!!

Something else I'm very excited about is next week's baby shower for our secret godson.

We're just going to keep our tryst a secret, so we don't have to deal with the Housemaid and the wrath of her clique vengeance.

I watch the Housemaid in our cameras, as she stalks our property, looking for us to talk to about the fact that we were speaking with Our Fave's Mom the other day.

It's horrible to feel like we have to hide from her, but I just don't want the work of defending my decision of having Our Fave's Mom as a friend.

I want to live without the village clique trying to tell me what to do to fit in.

Hmmm.

Sounds an awful lot like certain people back home.

People are people.

Everywhere.

Only this time, I get a new slate where I can only receive the good.

I've learned from the cliques back home.

Beware of those who travel in packs.

Unless they have 4 legs.

i choose to see the light i am to this world

Mission in mind.

No coffee in the world is going to wake me up today.

Last night we had a little problem with the garage door, and Papi and I went to work to fix it.  It meant lifting way more weight than either of us should have.

Hence, I had to embark on a Pain Med Party.

I'm doing much better today, as the heat really relaxes my damaged muscles, and they don't go into full spasm.

However, now I'm groggy and not really into accomplishing much today.

Still, I don't have that choice.  There are a few different workers coming.  One to build our bed frame, another to work on our car and a third to come fix our damn washing machine we've had for 3 weeks but haven't been able to wash any clothes with.

Yesterday at the PriceSmart in Santiago, they weren't willing to make the customer happy when I had 4 items that were not working properly, because I didn't have a receipt.

I told them that I KNOW it's in the computer, because that's where they checked when our washing machine we had just bought wasn't working.

The guy went on and on about how much time it's taking to look through the computers and how I'm taking all his precious time that could be used for something else.

I told him, "It makes up for the fact that I'm still waiting for your technicians to come and fix our washing machine.  My clothes are all dirty and I'm being patient, so maybe you can be patient with me?"

Things got much nicer after that.  We got everything I asked for and apparently, they're coming this morning.

We'll see if they get to see the crankiest, groggiest, gringo femme they've seen in their lives.

My eyes are half slit and I look about 100 years old.

Anyway, yesterday, we had a really good day getting things we needed and I'm only one step away from being able to make music again.

I just need a keyboard to talk to the computer and make music.  I may have to order online.  Here, they don't have anything that works with midi that I can find.

Hell.  It took me all this time to find a monitor with the correct hookups for my computer.  Everything is old school and about 40 years behind.  But I found the monitor.

I also finally found the synagogue!!

But dammit if they didn't have services, nor did they even have a rabbi.

I emailed Rabbi Laura about the possibility of having someone give me my jew lessons from afar.  She said she had info and would send it.

Papi asks me why I need this, and honestly, I don't have a good answer for it, other than the pride I feel for knowing that my great grandparents escaped the holocaust and I feel the need to redeem my heritage for the sake of all the years it's gone without recognition, as my family kept our heritage a secret.

I suppose I'll have to work extra hard at it, being alone without much instruction.

We all know how I feel about the g*d issue, however, having learned that we really aren't supposed to say g*d's name, it pleases me.

Besides, I'm free to talk to my angels and my Great Grandmother as my spiritual guides.

Oh!  I met the woman who gave me the baby shower invite!!!

She's very shy and I couldn't tell if she was just too shy to talk to me, or didn't understand a word I was saying, but she really didn't say much at all, but she seemed sweet non-the-less.

All I could really do was tell her I would be there, smile the biggest smile of thank you and left, because the silence was way too awkward.

Papi said she's probably not used to gringos being nice and didn't know what to say.

No doubt.  Sometimes, white assholes treat the people awful here.  I want to smack them upside the head.

But I get similar treatment from people who don't like that my Spanish isn't good enough for them.

There's one guy in particular at the hardware store who does that thing people do when someone doesn't understand the language enough.

He yells the words really loud, aggressively and slowly at me, invading the space in my face.

All I do is laugh at him and tell him I'm practicing and will get better, then tell him that people here speak Spanish fast, but he's the fastest one out there, so it's hard for me.

He doesn't care.  He just can't stand helping me, yet he's the guy I always need to talk to.

I'll win his heart over.  You watch.

I now have a new mission.

i make powerful and enjoyable business relationships and many of my business contacts are now my friends

and the phoenix has risen!

So, anyway, Papi and I were blessed by the Rabbi a couple of weeks ago.

Here were my opening words:

I've always searched for the place where I belong.  What I've learned is, that I'm a wanderer and I have been exploring since childhood, but never really realized it.

The greatest adventure that crossed my path, was when I fell in love and married another wanderer. 

These opening words are really all I need to know about life to this point.  I know that no matter what anyone says, like for instance, "When it comes to losing your dog, the way you're feeling is really only selfish."

... seriously! some people's kids! ... ok, that 'kid' thing is an inside joke ... that you'll never know about ... but that's ok, because i don't have to tell you everything, got it? ...

Or how about, "There are people suffering more than you, so you really have nothing to cry about.  You just have to move on."

Yeah.  Those words are really going to help me feel better, bitches.

Anyway, I'm learning that nothing anybody says or feels really has anything to do with me, because they have no fucking idea what it's like to be me.

I just laid for a week trying to breathe my way out of a 4 day stretch of choking on my own breath because of flashbacks of every trauma that has ever happened since I was 7 or 8 right up to my fucking motorcycle accident.  All of which just so happened to be triggered by the loss of The Golden.

Those people will never understand what it's like to have major P.T.S.D.

Well, fuck you and your fucking self help 'wisdom' mother fuckers.

I'm back.  And I'm feeling like I'm ready to take on that nasty mother of a world again.

I had some fierce little pills that took me for a scenic little stroll of La-La-Land for a few days.  You see, if you're so zonked out that you are close to a coma, you won't choke on your breath from a 4 day long panic attack.

There ya go.  You learned something new.  Glad I could help.

Anyway, I'm back and I'm pretty sure, bitchier than ever.

With a little hint of gratitude.

What can I say?  I'm a fucking Gemini.  Only this here Gemini has more than 2 sides.  You don't wanna mess with me.  I can wreck your whole day.

Good fucking g*d I got off track.

... what else is new, brain injury girl? ...

I wanted to share about 'what really matters'.

All that really matters is I'm on track in my life.  Where I am is where I'm supposed to be; with my wandering spouse who has taught me about love.

He has taught me that love isn't about cuddling up to a couple of funbags, or stroking a soft chin, chest, thing or stomach that has no hint of hair.

Love is mi esposo, who nursed me through my lack of oxygen for all those days and helped me come to the conclusion that it was time to stuff some pills down my yak.

That or bring me to the loonie bin for a little 'respite'.

I chose the pills, but I know he would have come to visit me if I was in my 'special' place with padded walls.

And that!!  Is all that matters.

He's cool with that psychosis of a Gemini that periodically pokes her head out to stir things up a bit.  I think he finds her a bit entertaining.  You know?  That someone could possibly be as crazy as him?  Or dare I say, crazier?

Yup.  I'm his girl and he's my guy, and we're makin' plans to wander a little bit further.

We're on an expedition on this eternally bumpy 4x4 ride, each on a sexy little quad.  Mine's all decked out in sparkles and boa feathers and his is decked out with faux tattoo shadings and great metal fangs on it's front bumper, ready to chomp the fuck out of the next hill that tries to tell us 'no'.

I suppose now that I'm back from the depths of my Pit of Doom, it will be Papi's turn to take a nose dive.

Hey.

At least we share.

i am valuable

guilt. please leave?!

Orange juice.

I only drink it when I'm sick.  It's tasting so good.

I don't know why I can't stand the taste of water when I have a sore throat.

Guilt.

I have it whenever my plans have to change for a virus.

It's feeling so bad that; (a) I made food for Shabbat and can't go because I'm sick, and (b) I had plans to go see the super fantastic band, Lisa's Hotcakes, and now I can't go.

It's not just any band, it's my friends' band.

Two of the lovely friends that are on the list to spend time with, and share their energy before I take off for my first long stint in the Dominican Republic.

So, I guess I have a good day of studying Spanish and Hebrew today.

I hope my foggy head will let those words and symbols set in!

I'll also have some time to study about Hanukkah.  This will be my first time celebrating it.

I don't have to deal with the guilt from those damn Catholics.

Fear god!?!?!

Right dudes.  I can't fear something I don't believe in.

Jesus was a Jew.

I can believe he existed.  But I don't believe he was magic.  He was just a good Jew soul that wanted peace in the world.

I've just learned Jews don't believe in hell.

Another good one is that I don't have to use the word 'god', but rather that you don't say it and it becomes g*d!!  I'm so grateful!

I'm finding so much more that I can relate to.

Don't worry.  I'm not turning into some religious zealot.  I still don't believe in g*d.

And the Jews are ok with that.

Mind you, I'm going to a reform synagogue.  They're much more liberal and inclusive. 

I get to be me.  No fucking guilt. 

Except for the fact that I swear too much and I know that occasionally, Rabbi Laura comes here to read and I feel guilty about the fact that I'm being myself on my blog.

That and that I have a bit of a violent energy when I'm talking about predators.

However, even with that, I've learned that I'm allowed to be myself, because there's no way I could be perfect.  I just need to know what I need to work on and it will get better.

Oh, I know.

I know that no matter where I go, day or night, I constantly and consistently look over my shoulder for the plausible creeps of the world.

I know that when I'm standing idle, I settle myself with my back to a wall, to be sure there's no crud standing behind me awaiting their opportunity to strike.

I know that when I cross the street, I look every direction, non-stop, for cars that could potentially hit me.  I do this until my feet hit the sidewalk, then start looking over my shoulder again for scum of the earth behind me.

I know that I need to stop thinking about the revenge I can get on all these people.

I know that I need to stop the P.T.S.D.

Only then will I be open enough to allow positivity in every way come into my life.

I know that I have a lot to learn.

I also know that the NyQuil has kicked in and I'm feeling a hell of a lot better.

I also know that I'm definitely sick.  I think I've jumped around about 5 topics.

Coma time.

i enjoy being positive and having positive feelings

Papi Unveiled!

Saturdays, I tend not to write, because I'm up early to get to the Synagogue.

I don't do 'early' very well.

But today!

I have two pics for ya!

I've been practising bitches.

Look out.

And some of you wanted to see Papi's tattoo:

There.

I posted on a Saturday.

i have positive self esteem

check mate, papi!

"Why would you do this to me?!?!"

"Because you wave your penis at me all the time."

Papi just doesn't understand the depth of my P.T.S.D.

It may look like I am laughing when he leaves that plastic one eyed monster lurking beneath items, but it's a laugh of fear.

I am one of 'those' who laughs nervously.

If I'm laughing too much, chances are I'm on edge.

When I first meet people they just think I'm always happy.

Nope.

I'm scared shitless of strangers.

People are capable of a lot of damage to one another.

They scare me.

As people get to know me, they see that I'm really quite mellow and shy.  I just overcompensate amongst newbies.

So, yeah, when those Plastic Penes are coming at me, mi esposo just doesn't understand that I'm actually quivering from flashbacks of past predators.

My way of making light and protecting myself is to make it seem like it's funny.

I deal with a lot of life's challenges through humour.

If I don't laugh, I'll cry.

If I cry, I have snot running down my face and my eyes swell, making it look like I've been in the ring with Mike Tyson for a moment.

That's just not sexy.

So, the torment I endure from my love's penis antics is less than pleasing, even if I do trust him.

I'm constantly saying, "Why do you do this to me?!?!"

Yesterday was Papi's turn to shudder in terror.

We all have our fears.  Anyone who says they don't is lying.

Papi has severe social anxiety, whereas I'm perfectly comfortable in the limelight.

One of my journey's of late has been to explore my Jewish heritage and Judaism.  I feel that my family keeping it a secret for so long is not honouring my ancestors struggles when they escaped the holocaust and fled to Canada.

I have had a great instinctual pull toward Judaism my whole life, but I didn't know why.

When I learned the reason for this connection, I searched for my people and I've been welcomed by an extremely positive Reformed Judaism community.

In fact, they're so inclusive, that even though I've only been attending the Sabbath every Saturday since this past spring, they've decided to give me a Farewell Blessing Ceremony.

It blows my mind that I could be included into this kind of love.

Anyway, my point is, they created this opportunity to send us off, and asked if I wanted to invite friends to be there to add to the awesome positive energy that will be bestowed upon us.

I didn't really tell Papi about it, because I know him too well.

If I had've told him, he would have put on his big boy whitey tighties and said, "Oh, HELL NO!!!!!"

Hence, I went ahead and did it anyway.

Now he's going to have attention.

Hehehehehe.

Sometimes, our marriage seems a bit like a back and forth game of 'got'cha!'

Your move, Papi.

And now, I'm off to go snorkeling to go find The Hotel Shark.

i enjoy my affluence and share it appropriately

new possibilities?

Good god the fucking emotional roller coaster!

At this juncture, Papi has pulled it together, but I haven't.

Last night, the impact of my life changing was my dramatic issue.

I had a moment of, "I really can't do anything right."

Then I had a moment of, "What the fuck am I going to do to have purpose now?"

Which led me to, "Who the fuck am I, now that I'm not the performer I used to be?"

All these feelings came up after my case settled.  I suppose the focus on appointments and evaluations for 4 years has left me with no room for much else.

We're starting a brand new life in a few months, yet somehow, I still having troubles letting go of all I lost since the accident.

Prior to my life change, I really only thought that my only purpose in life was to be a musician.

I can look forward to doing more music in the Dominican Republic, where I'm not in as much pain as I am here.

I can still write music.  I just have to wait until I'm in a place where I can feel better to do so, and it's right around the corner.

Everything seems to be falling into place so eerily.  All that's left now is for us to wait for my braces to get outta my teeth.  Then we're gone.

In the meantime, I'm filling my life with learning Spanish, Hebrew and Judaism, and I've finally learned the purpose of Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur.

Here's my smallest nutshell I can give you of how I've learned about it: we're supposed to take stock of the mistakes we've made that have either impacted someone else, ourselves, or us both.

... sound a bit like one of the 12 steps to you too? ...

I've also learned, these 10 days are here to start a new year with new possibilities, after you've learned from your mistakes or admitted to the person involved how you learned from it.  Forgiveness, in a sense, yet it seems it would be an apology to ourselves for being such asses in the first place.

What all this brought on for me, was a shift of looking at what my potential is, not at what my losses are.

I believe that this is an amazing moment in my life.  Everything is falling into place, not much unlike when you see you only have about 15 pieces of a puzzle left.  Then you think about the next puzzle you can do!

It's uncanny that my case ended at the beginning of this breath of change in thinking from Judaism has come.  How was I lead to learn about it at this very occasion in my life?

So often, people think of me as an atheist.  I'm not purely an atheist.  I'm always questioning everything, because I am an agnostic verging on atheist.

Otherwise, I believe in some kinda 'something' that I can't put into words, but the closest I can say is it's like molecules of energy surrounding each one of us.

This coming together of so many pieces is how I believe the energy works with me.  I just have to stop fighting it and be clear to accept it.

Why was I lead to learn about this moment in time of new life at the very moment that my case wrapped up and Papi and I are beginning anew?

I've been passed on to a new level of letting the past, and all it's losses, go.

If I don't make room for the new by sweeping out the past, there will be no space for my new life to come to light.

I'll never be that girl that I was before the accident.

I have to let her go.

I must look at my new prospects that will come to me when I'm open to them, no matter how terrifying it is to jump into the deep end.

The fear of the unknown has been one of my obstacles in life.

Well, I guess it's time to take all the strength in life I've ever gained and take that bitch on.

Bring it on then.

I'll put up my dukes.

I always do.

i acknowledge my errors, learn from them, choose the correct path, and move on

Aping the apes.

A wedding with guns!  Well, the groom had a knife, but the rest of them had guns.

I felt so much for Papi, as it was a difficult social time in the 'man zone'.  He's still learning how to fit in with the bio-males.

He relates more to the women, and sometimes, the man on the arm of a woman will react a little adversely, confusing my love's 'relating' with more than friendly chatter.

My love expressed his feelings about his strife and all I could come up with was, "I think you should just ape them.  Whatever they do, you do."

He had good practise with the suffering addict at our reception table.  That poor soul was so hammered, he just kept giving mi esposo fist bumps along with the occasional, "Dude!  Right?!"

Sometimes, for no reason at all.  He'd just come out of his stupor to join in the conversation for a moment and agree with whatever was being presented at the time.

None-the-less, he was a great practice person for Papi.

My love looked so handsome.  I was proud to be on his arm.

Especially, when the typical 'mean girls' in the parking lot didn't like the fact that my dress was hugging and exposing every curve of my healthy figure.

Oh, how I had my booty out proud yesterday.

I suppose those catty girls didn't like it, and when they were being the usual 'point and gossip bitches', my love silenced them with an aggressive, "Knock it off," in Papi's way of meaning business.

I couldn't be bothered to look and see if they adhered to his warning.  All I cared about was that my love was proud of how I looked as well.

I'm getting more accepting with being seen as the straight couple.  At least we're donned in tattoos, and don't look like the 'normal', conservative couples that were looking toward us with curiosity.

It will definitely make life easier in the Dominican Republic.

On our last visit, I was accosted by homophobic bible thumpers who told me if I prayed, their god would take away my being gay.

It took everything I had not to fight with them.  I know that this will be my biggest challenge when we're there.  The religious zealots are everywhere.

Even at the wedding last night, I had a very difficult time, when before we ate, they gave a prayer for food.

They asked us to stand and bow our heads.  I cringed, sarcastically sighed and rolled my eyes at their 'oh heavenly father' thanks for food.

I would rather thank The Chef Extraordinaire for their hard work.

I seriously just found my ability to understand my own spirituality over the past couple of years.

The accident woke an aspect of my belief system, but when faced with the crap I had to grow up with, I get a rather repugnant taste in my mouth.  Not to mention the little grunts of 'oh for fucks sakes' will sneak out when I'm not paying attention to my mouth.

My love will give me the eye of 'don't be a bad one, honey', coupled with a nudge, that will nip my discourse in the bud.

So, I stood.  I bowed.  I behaved.  Still, I cussed them all in my mind, while concealing it with a smile.  I find it quite offensive that anyone would force another person of a different belief to pray to their god.

That's another reason I'm grateful to have found such connection with Judaism.  Their belief is that you don't actually say 'god's' name.

That's perfectly fine by me.  I'm happy when I don't have to follow the rules of my upbringing.

I remember being knocked upside the head for saying the usual teen phrase of, "Oh my god!" with that valley girl drawl we would all have.

"Don't you use the lords name in vain," I would hear as my head took a whoopin'.

Anyway, I survived their prayers to zombie Jesus and ate their amazing meal, appreciating every bite with my own gratitude for food, and the enjoyment of sharing a beautiful day with two people who allowed Papi and I to hear wedding vows all over again.

I found us nodding our head to some of the words during the service.

For better or for worse, in sickness and in health.

Love is all you need.

i feel fulfilled and joyful