For those who have yet to see the beautiful movie "Mr.Magorium's Wonder Emporium" I suggest you do. The writing and acting, plus the visual effects will have your heart bursting and magic will fill every corner of your mind. The scene below is Mr. Magorium (Dustin Hoffman) speaking to his manager, Molly Mahoney (Natalie Portman) knowing he is about to pass on. This scene broke my heart to pieces and built it back up again in only 4 minutes. It was beautifully acted and Helm wrote it so children would understand, but that adults would believe. Click the link to see it. It's definitely worth 4 minutes of your time. (Copy and paste in browser)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o0gXZTfuD1Q


I see this how my mom would've passed away. Beautiful. Simple. And straight into the stars of heaven.


"When King Lear dies in Act V, do you know what Shakespeare has written? He's written "He dies." That's all, nothing more. No fanfare, no metaphor, no brilliant final words. The culmination of the most influential work of dramatic literature is "He dies." It takes Shakespeare, a genius, to come up with "He dies." And yet every time I read those two words, I find myself overwhelmed with dysphoria. And I know it's only natural to be sad, but not because of the words "He dies." but because of the life we saw prior to the words.
I've lived all five of my acts, Mahoney, and I am not asking you to be happy that I must go. I'm only asking that you turn the page, continue reading... and let the next story begin. And if anyone asks what became of me, you relate my life in all its wonder, and end it with a simple and modest "He died." [turning back to Mahoney]...your life is an occasion, rise to it."

back?

So I've strayed from the blog mainly because my brain thinks so fast it's hard to type it all and I'm pretty sure I may come off as CRAAAAzy on some of my opinions. so therefore, I hence put a warning that some of the posts may not be suitable for all people and that reader discretion is advised. There. Can't say I didn't warn you.

So, like most of my blogging, it is once again at night. I believe I am part owl, although the flying part was tried and unsuccessful, so I mainly hang out on the ground. There are lots of things spinning through my head, which hopefully will be written out over time as there is no use in me narrating it to myself in bed in my head. And yes, I know that rhymes. Let's start with my habitual hermitting. I've always been known to be a homebody, someone who would rather sit at home and watch old movies, and talk with close friends than go clubbing or golfing or whatever people do. But with my mental and spiritual life on a fence, going out is even harder. Especially going to Church. I have a huge issue with myself, with God with no one? I dunno. Church reminds me of mom, everything about it. So change churches right? Uhhh, no. Cuz, really it's more "church" in itself. I don't like the double standards, the stupid issues that tear churches apart, the way I have to look and behave to be "acceptable". I'm total rage against the machine. Literally. Y'know that scene in Kung-Fu Panda, where the evil tiger is chained down with weights on and such? I feel like that. Like all my energy is about to burst given the chance. But these stupid chains are holding me back. And I struggle and fight them everyday, and maybe I could and would get somewhere if I actually knew what the chains were. I've lost myself and who I thought I was. I'm not satisfied being wishy-washy. I'm an all or nothing, right not a whole lot of nothing. It's like trying to piece back a glass or ceramic vase. It takes forever and there are so many little pieces to find.

pulsing off

It's 3am.

Not an unusual time for me to be up or awake at. I think it's the best time to be awake at, everything's so quiet and serene, minus the sirens. But that's not why I'm up.

I'm panicking.

My medication is supposed to subdue the effects of anxiety, and for a time it did. But it's back. And it absolutely paralyzes me.

My heart is going way too fast.

I try and control it. Deep breaths, I say, deep breaths. Think about something like a bunny perhaps. But it doesn't work. I can feel myself getting worked up over nothing, over something, over everything.

I feel trapped.

It's like being claustrophic of being with yourself. And I can't do anything. Being in large groups terrify me, going to family gatherings, working, going shopping. All these things send me over the edge where I'll do anything I can to get out of it. I know it's not healthy and I know for people who don't have "issues" this is probably ridiculous. But I know there are those who know what I mean.

.....................

I'm devastated by the hole in my chest, the lifelessness of the side of me that was there when mom was there. I can't help but run every moment of the last days over and over again. All the questions, no answers. No peace over living my life without her by my side. No motivation to become anything but a hole in the ground. I fear over my family, so small and so close. If I were to lose another,I would become nothing. I already don't eat well, don't sleep well, don't breathe well. I search the house, the car, the streets, the web, the cards, the books, the clothes for her. For me. For something that looks like my heart.