Feeling the Fire Within

I think my favorite constellation is Orion, but it’s not really Orion. It’s the group of stars that I can see from my driveway at the beginning of the year that I thought was Orion the first time I saw it, but it’s not. I looked it up once and I found out it’s Aquila. 

I needed it to be Orion when my grandmother was dying in the hospital for 4 months. I was driving to Utica 3-4 times a week to visit her and when I’d get home late on weeknights, after driving for an hour, I’d stand in the cold in the middle of my driveway, my eyes boring into the night sky looking for answers.

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Leaving Skin in the Game

This photo was taken seconds before I left half the skin of my forearms on a country road in Thailand. I’m sharing it because I love it. Look at how happy I was! I just hauled my ass up two huge hills, and I wasn’t sure I was going to make it up the second one. This giant downhill was my reward, and I had to scream down it because I had another hill to ascend after it.

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It’s Not the Most Wonderful Time of the Year, for Me

Happy Fuckin' Holiday

Feeling dead inside during the holidays might be second on the list of worst things ever only to actually being dead during the holidays.

Well, I’m here to tell ya: I’m alive, it’s Christmas, and I don’t give a shit about anything.

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She Did

Great Grandma & Grandpa Servadio, and the woman, the myth, the legend: Gram

Great Grandma & Grandpa Servadio, and the woman, the myth, the legend: Gram

“See that face?” My grandmother said, showing me the photo above. “That’s the face of a girl who thinks she knows everything.”

Now that might sound like the beginning of a cautionary tale, in which the girl in said tale did not know everything. But if you knew my grandmother (Gram) at all, you’d understand that when she told me this, her tone of voice implied that she did, in fact, know everything. Or at least enough that such an attitude was deserved.

She told me this when I was a very impressionable young girl. And it certainly did leave an impression – I’ve never forgotten it.

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The Waiting is the Hardest Part

Friday evening, I walked out of work and my eyes immediately filled with tears as I made my way across the parking lot to my car. I had been in a funk all week, and found myself more than ever wanting (and sometimes choosing) to skip my usual nightly after-work skating or yoga routine so that I could go home and curl up under warm blankets with my cat and sleep. I chalked it up to a few weeks off from my normal schedule due to the holidays, and maybe a touch of seasonal affective disorder due to the record low temperatures we’ve been experiencing. When I started crying on Friday, unable to stop during my drive, after I parked my car, got inside and collapsed on my couch, I realized what had been wrong all this time. January 4th, the Sunday that began this week, was the day my grandmother went into the hospital two years ago and never came home again.

While I live a life that is so full of love and joy and people who care about me, many of whom I see every single day, the loneliness I feel right now is palpable, perched on my shoulder and accompanying me throughout my day.

There is a hole in my chest that nothing can fill, because no one else is her.

Even though this has already happened, and it’s over, every January it feels like the clock restarts and I am once again powerless to stop what is happening.

So many things have changed, and so many things have gotten better since that first January 4th. But it still hasn’t gotten easier. At least not yet.

Time does not heal all wounds. Time merely allows you to put perspective between you and the wound.

I have not yet gained the perspective I need to best handle the loss I feel when I acknowledge my grandmother’s absence.

But I take comfort in knowing that I will, and it will get better, with time.

Tom Petty was right.

Death and Taxes

Gram and I, 1986

Gram and I, 1986

My grandmother died a year ago today. On Tax Day. For some reason, after all that went on during the four and a half months leading up to her death, I found comfort in the fact that Gram got out of doing her taxes this one time. My grandmother was incredibly financially shrewd and might have hated giving her hard earned money to the government more than anyone else I know. So it was a kind of justice that she skipped out on the day taxes are due. During her stay there, the nurses in the ICU often remarked that Gram was “a feisty one.” If they only knew.

The tragedy that happened at the Boston Marathon last April 15th, as horrific and sad as it was, has little meaning to me. This is because I experienced it through a muted television in a hospital room in which my grandmother took her final gasping breaths while hooked up to a monitoring system that now, instead of reflecting her pulse and blood pressure and oxygen levels (that my aunts and grandfather and I used to anxiously watch like hawks), only showed a ticking clock underneath the word “Comfort” in small letters. However selfish it is to say, I experienced a far greater tragedy that day, and as a result, the Boston Marathon bombings fail to resonate with me.

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The Problem with Bisexuality

The Problem with Bisexuality

Make up your mind already.

My problem with bisexuality is not that “they just can’t decide.” My problem is not that “they’re confused.” My problem is not that “they’re being greedy”. My problem is that “they” are me, and you probably didn’t know that.

Really, it’s just not fair – bisexuals can live under the guise of being straight, and therefore conform more nicely into society somewhat unintentionally, if they just happen to only meet and date people of the opposite sex. I know this, because it’s what I’ve done all of my life.

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Vote for Giant Squid

Photo courtesy of Hine Mizushima

Since I last updated this blog, I have bought my first house, left a great job, came back to an even better job, learned to roller skate, got involved with roller derby, broke my ankle, and started the process of (and still am) recovering from an ankle break. As you can see, I have found plenty to keep me busy. I would love to resurrect this blog again someday, but for now, I will be satisfied with being the one who introduced many of you to women peeing standing up, reusable menstrual products, the difference between octopus and squid, and more. Maybe I’ll impart you with useless knowledge again soon. Until then, enjoy the archives!

The We Are the World 2 Disaster

While I’m no longer a big SNL fan because it’s just never as good as the cast you watched when YOU were in high school (for everyone, I know – but I had greats that are hard to compete with like Will Ferrell, Cheri Oteri and Molly Shannon), I thought this opening sketch from last night was pretty funny. Mostly because I agree with fake Quincy Jones’ (aka Keenan!) need to raise awareness about the “We Are the World 2 Disaster”.

I especially loved Kristen Wiig’s pretty dead-on impression of Gwen Stefani!

Baby #3 for Beatie

Photo Courtesy of

Photo Courtesy of

It’s probably not surprising at all that people still take issue with Thomas Beatie, a transgender man with female reproductive organs, getting pregnant again.

Some online publications announcing Beatie’s third pregnancy call him a “man” in quotes. Others are adamant about calling him “her”.

My favorite is one of the comments on Right Pundit’s pretty derogatory anouncement of Beatie’s pregnancy:

“Who cares? If Sarah Palin is allowed to reproduce then anyone can.”

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