Ever wonder about life? I do. Life is all about filing. Life is one huge filing cabinet with a system, and each drawer a chapter in the life's filing cabinet, and each file an incident or an experience of that life's file drawer. That particular filing system is call the brain.
And then there's everything else in life that gets filed away.
It goes without saying that all important papers get filed away, but what about garbage? That gets filed in the garbage bin, probably located under a sink or next to your filing cabinet or desk of drawers. And when that bin gets filled, all of that gets filed in the garbage bins outside for the city to pick up and file in their system. And I'll bet there are at least three color-coded files for that out in your garage -- compost, recycle, and all the rest -- mandated filing by the City.
Dirty clothes get filed in the clothes hamper which is filed somewhere in your home. When the clothes hamper gets filled up, the clothes get filed by color and type of fabric into a temporary file called the washing machine, which is most likely filed in the garage or laundry room. Mine is filed inside my kitchen.
So, after the clothes are all washed and dried, they all get filed back into their respective drawers and closets. The detergent gets filed back with the fabric softener and the anti-static sheets. And that process of filing waits to happen again.
And what about when you go down to get something to eat? Eggs, meat, vegetables, soft drinks, butter -- all filed in the refrigerator. And I'll bet each one has its respective shelf just like a filing cabinet -- butter is in its little compartment, eggs are in their egg compartment, the ice is in the freezer file as is the ice cream. And that refrigerator? Mine is filed in the kitchen near the stove, sink, and washing machine.
And after a hard days night, you'll do what I do -- file myself in my bathroom for a long hot shower. The soap I use is filed in the soap dish which is filed on a hanger over the shower head. The shampoo is filed in one corner of my bathroom, the wash cloth is filed on a hook next to my soap dish, and my razor is filed under the soap. Water spills out of its respective file, lands on me, washes off all of the crud that got filed on my skin, and then goes down the drain and gets filed somewhere in the City's water reclamation facility. The towel that I've filed over my curtain rod gets filed back once I use it. The moister left over on that towel evaporates and get filed back into the atmosphere. And after I brush my teeth, my toothbrush and toothpaste get filed back in a small cup that's filed in the corner of my bathroom sink.
My TV is filed on top of my dresser, my computer is filed on top of my desk, and my desk and dresser are filed in my one bedroom office apartment, which is filed in a building that is filed on Balboa Street which was filed a long time ago in San Francisco.
Trouble is, that on my desk where my computer is filed, lay bunches of papers that need to be filed in an actual filing cabinet! Imagine that! And all the VHS cassettes where my Egyptian movies are filed, need to be filed back in the book cases, which are filed in another room. I've called this my temporary file.
I'm currently filing my shoes in the middle of the floor where I removed them just minutes ago from having previously filed them on my feet, and I doubt I'll remove them from that temporary file. There are a couple of used plates and utensils where I had filed some milk and cereal in one of them, and some ground seasoned beef and baked fish in another -- now filed in my stomach, on my office desk, and if I don't file them in my temporary kitchen sink file, I'm apt to cover them up with more un-filed paper work.
God, I HATE filing!
Well, I guess I'll close now, and file this blog in my Pondering on a Thought blog file under the title, Filing Frenzy, and hope that it gets picked up and read by some of my followers, who, by the way, are filed in my Gmail email account and in my personal circles files in my Google+ file.
What haven't YOU filed today?
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
Surviving Concavity
I hate rejection. It's painful. When I come face to face with rejection it jars me to the core. And if I'm not careful, I allow it to sink me into a deep depression -- but thankfully only for a day or so. Then I climb back out after a long thought process, and put my life back in perspective.
A little fresh air and sunshine don't hurt none neither.
I'm told that sharing rejection that leads to depression helps, so, here goes. I'm going to open my life up a little and share some of my most significant rejection moments that have lead to some of the worst depression moments in my life. Hey, the good thing is that I'm still here to talk about them.
My first rejection was the worst. I think we all experience this, don't we? I fell in love in the Seventh Grade with a dazzling gorgeous fellow named Jen. He was tall and beautiful, and he actually gave me some attention. Maybe that's why I fell in love. For the next two years I saw him hug and kiss a pretty young blonde, and every time I saw this, a dagar shot through my heart. It would be the first of many to come.
In high school, my heart went out to a young boy by the name of Chris. He was kind and gentle, and he was, at that time, going blind. But I loved him nonetheless. He was also the lead guitar in a band, and I spent many moments in the same garage with him and his fellow musicians. Those were lovely moments. A year later, he was the proud father of someone else's baby girl.
I left for Sacramento to start my life and, like a kid in a candy store, I fell in love a lot. Life was grand! But I ended up with a guy named John who, after three years, liked to use me as his personal punching bag. After the third time, I felt I had had had enough; and, quite frightened, I escaped to San Francisco to save my life, with a new job, and new everything. No ties. No friends. No connections. Everything ripped away.
I went to work with the USPS and fell in love with a gorgeous fellow there by the name of Chuck. We dated for about two years or so. We broke up over differences, and, though I tried desperately for a year to win him back, the young woman from the mail room soon appeared after that, parading herself on his elbow.
Each of those heartbreaks was painful, especially when the aftermath of them was flaunted right before my eyes, and things were ripped from my life. But I always pulled myself up and continued on.
During my time in the USPS, I was wrongly accused of dealing drugs by the Postal Inspection Service. I knew the people that were dealing the drugs; I was just not one of them. After the painful and arduous interrogations, I was able to clear my name but the gossip stories in that corporate world had already taken hold. Reluctantly, I quit the Postal Service.
During those interrogations, I met my husband, Gabe, and we were married in 1986. He owned a restaurant in San Francisco, and I went to work for him as a dancer and partner. I lived the artist dream. Ten years later, we were divorced because of his complaints that I had an inability to bear children. I already knew from my past I could have them. The hole that I was left in because of his reason for divorce was deep and dark, but I managed to crawl out of that one and get on with life.
I met my late partner, Hatem, during that bout of depression and with promises of fame and fortune, I latched on to his reigns. And, having bought the restaurant lease before my divorce, for the next two years I rode on a new high in a new restaurant and with a new future. Then, because of certain circumstances, the floor fell through, and I no longer had his support. That relationship snowballed downward and took with it all the connections to my biological family.
In that snowball, I was handed a lawsuit from my landlord who was doing his best to break my lease. I had put so much into my restaurant and now I was on the verge of loosing it. After a year of depositions and discoveries, I prevailed but at a large monetary cost, physical anguish, and lost sleep.
Then, the two young girls, "S" and "G" (names changed to protect the guilty), who were involved with the restaurant at the time of my partner's cancer diagnosis, saw an opportunity and climbed aboard that snowball ride, pilfering all my assets and bank account. In the interim, my partner passed away of a lung disease in 2008. When I emerged from that roller coaster ride, I had nothing but the clothes on my back, six lawsuits, and a restaurant in badly need of repair, marketing, and business, and an empty heavy heart.
Four years later, while going through my books, the discovery of $2.8 million of stolen and embezzled monies spiraled in my brain as I found out that these two girls, whom I had trusted with my heart and soul, had otherwise spent all of my savings and earnings on everything but what they were supposed to have spent them on. Because my partner was no longer around to state his case, all I was able to do was file a police report. There are now two dance studios and a house in their names in the East Bay as a result of that crime.
After that significantly depressing chapter of my life, out of which I was still climbing, a fellow -- at my request -- by the name of Max stepped in to help me recover from the loss, and acted as partner and supporter. A year later I discovered that he had double tipped all of my customers to the tune of around $5,000.
And then there was my Navy captain Marcus, a fellow I used to know in the Seventh Grade. I met up with him and I thought he was it. He promised me the world and for the next eight months I was on cloud nine. Then nothing. No word. No letter. No email. After about five months of wondering I did a search on the Internet. Yep. There it was in the local newspaper. Married about the same time he quit calling.
Depression paralyzes and obscures life. It holds one back from making timely and wise decisions. While I never in my life really had the support of my family, I never thought they would turn on me. I never thought my close and trusting love relationships would betray me as deeply as they have. I never thought I'd turn out to be a possible homeless person.
But here I am.
I have found out that family is the family you choose, not the family to which you are born. And the family you do choose in life can also betray you, but that's a chance one needs to take. I have found that no matter how depressing life can be that there is STILL life out there, and that all I need to do is to search and find it in the core of my soul. I have found out that no matter how many betrayals I have encountered, I will continue to trust, for without the ability to trust, there is no life. I just won't again trust the people who betrayed me.
I don't know why I leaned so hard against the very people who betrayed me. I believe it is because I failed to see the greatness in myself, and so I turned to those who I thought knew all the answers. Each time I was plummeted into oblivion, it was I who found the courage and the resources to climb back out.
Having survived these rejections and the accompanying bouts of depression has not been easy. It would have been easier to give up. To throw in the towel. But in not giving up or giving in is evidence of how great I am or can be.
I'm working toward that goal, now -- to be greater than I have ever been in the past. I'm in in command now. I'm at the wheel. And even though I still go through bouts of depression just thinking about what my life has been like and what I've been through and what I have lost, I know that I will be OK.
There are still many many years to come, and many many things to accomplish, despite any rejection that may come my way again. I still have my health (knock on wood.)
Like I said, I'm in command now.
A little fresh air and sunshine don't hurt none neither.
I'm told that sharing rejection that leads to depression helps, so, here goes. I'm going to open my life up a little and share some of my most significant rejection moments that have lead to some of the worst depression moments in my life. Hey, the good thing is that I'm still here to talk about them.
My first rejection was the worst. I think we all experience this, don't we? I fell in love in the Seventh Grade with a dazzling gorgeous fellow named Jen. He was tall and beautiful, and he actually gave me some attention. Maybe that's why I fell in love. For the next two years I saw him hug and kiss a pretty young blonde, and every time I saw this, a dagar shot through my heart. It would be the first of many to come.
In high school, my heart went out to a young boy by the name of Chris. He was kind and gentle, and he was, at that time, going blind. But I loved him nonetheless. He was also the lead guitar in a band, and I spent many moments in the same garage with him and his fellow musicians. Those were lovely moments. A year later, he was the proud father of someone else's baby girl.
I left for Sacramento to start my life and, like a kid in a candy store, I fell in love a lot. Life was grand! But I ended up with a guy named John who, after three years, liked to use me as his personal punching bag. After the third time, I felt I had had had enough; and, quite frightened, I escaped to San Francisco to save my life, with a new job, and new everything. No ties. No friends. No connections. Everything ripped away.
I went to work with the USPS and fell in love with a gorgeous fellow there by the name of Chuck. We dated for about two years or so. We broke up over differences, and, though I tried desperately for a year to win him back, the young woman from the mail room soon appeared after that, parading herself on his elbow.
Each of those heartbreaks was painful, especially when the aftermath of them was flaunted right before my eyes, and things were ripped from my life. But I always pulled myself up and continued on.
During my time in the USPS, I was wrongly accused of dealing drugs by the Postal Inspection Service. I knew the people that were dealing the drugs; I was just not one of them. After the painful and arduous interrogations, I was able to clear my name but the gossip stories in that corporate world had already taken hold. Reluctantly, I quit the Postal Service.
During those interrogations, I met my husband, Gabe, and we were married in 1986. He owned a restaurant in San Francisco, and I went to work for him as a dancer and partner. I lived the artist dream. Ten years later, we were divorced because of his complaints that I had an inability to bear children. I already knew from my past I could have them. The hole that I was left in because of his reason for divorce was deep and dark, but I managed to crawl out of that one and get on with life.
I met my late partner, Hatem, during that bout of depression and with promises of fame and fortune, I latched on to his reigns. And, having bought the restaurant lease before my divorce, for the next two years I rode on a new high in a new restaurant and with a new future. Then, because of certain circumstances, the floor fell through, and I no longer had his support. That relationship snowballed downward and took with it all the connections to my biological family.
In that snowball, I was handed a lawsuit from my landlord who was doing his best to break my lease. I had put so much into my restaurant and now I was on the verge of loosing it. After a year of depositions and discoveries, I prevailed but at a large monetary cost, physical anguish, and lost sleep.
Then, the two young girls, "S" and "G" (names changed to protect the guilty), who were involved with the restaurant at the time of my partner's cancer diagnosis, saw an opportunity and climbed aboard that snowball ride, pilfering all my assets and bank account. In the interim, my partner passed away of a lung disease in 2008. When I emerged from that roller coaster ride, I had nothing but the clothes on my back, six lawsuits, and a restaurant in badly need of repair, marketing, and business, and an empty heavy heart.
Four years later, while going through my books, the discovery of $2.8 million of stolen and embezzled monies spiraled in my brain as I found out that these two girls, whom I had trusted with my heart and soul, had otherwise spent all of my savings and earnings on everything but what they were supposed to have spent them on. Because my partner was no longer around to state his case, all I was able to do was file a police report. There are now two dance studios and a house in their names in the East Bay as a result of that crime.
After that significantly depressing chapter of my life, out of which I was still climbing, a fellow -- at my request -- by the name of Max stepped in to help me recover from the loss, and acted as partner and supporter. A year later I discovered that he had double tipped all of my customers to the tune of around $5,000.
And then there was my Navy captain Marcus, a fellow I used to know in the Seventh Grade. I met up with him and I thought he was it. He promised me the world and for the next eight months I was on cloud nine. Then nothing. No word. No letter. No email. After about five months of wondering I did a search on the Internet. Yep. There it was in the local newspaper. Married about the same time he quit calling.
Depression paralyzes and obscures life. It holds one back from making timely and wise decisions. While I never in my life really had the support of my family, I never thought they would turn on me. I never thought my close and trusting love relationships would betray me as deeply as they have. I never thought I'd turn out to be a possible homeless person.
But here I am.
I have found out that family is the family you choose, not the family to which you are born. And the family you do choose in life can also betray you, but that's a chance one needs to take. I have found that no matter how depressing life can be that there is STILL life out there, and that all I need to do is to search and find it in the core of my soul. I have found out that no matter how many betrayals I have encountered, I will continue to trust, for without the ability to trust, there is no life. I just won't again trust the people who betrayed me.
I don't know why I leaned so hard against the very people who betrayed me. I believe it is because I failed to see the greatness in myself, and so I turned to those who I thought knew all the answers. Each time I was plummeted into oblivion, it was I who found the courage and the resources to climb back out.
Having survived these rejections and the accompanying bouts of depression has not been easy. It would have been easier to give up. To throw in the towel. But in not giving up or giving in is evidence of how great I am or can be.
I'm working toward that goal, now -- to be greater than I have ever been in the past. I'm in in command now. I'm at the wheel. And even though I still go through bouts of depression just thinking about what my life has been like and what I've been through and what I have lost, I know that I will be OK.
There are still many many years to come, and many many things to accomplish, despite any rejection that may come my way again. I still have my health (knock on wood.)
Like I said, I'm in command now.
Monday, October 1, 2012
Song Scape
When I a little girl, my mother would always sing to us -- my sister and I. One song in particular, she used to sing, was Sunbonnet Sue. My mother wasn't one with a singing voice, but when she sang that song, I felt warm and secure. At that very moment in my very young mind, I was the only one that mattered to her.
Sunbonnet Sue was written by songwriter Will D. Cobb back in 1906. A 1908 rendition by Harland is uploaded on Youtube.com. Listening to this recording brings back clear and beautiful memories of me standing next to my mother, combing her hair while she sang Sunbonnet Sue.
As I got older, I became ammusingly aware of the many songs that were written in honor of my name sake -- Sue, Susie, Suzy, Susan, Susanna, Suzanne. So I went on a search. Song writers, it seemed, were -- have been perpetually in love with some form of Susan since the mid 1800s.
In 1979, I walked into The Bagdad cabaret and nightclub, then on Broadway in San Francisco, and met with owner Jad Elias. A budding belly dancer with visions of grandeur and high expectations, I introduced myself to him. What quickly spilled out of his mouth left me standing in amazement.
I danced at The Bagdad for the next three years and feasted on the sweet lyrics of many an Arabic song, and one American one in particular. This highly respected Arabic musician often honored me from time to time, sometime on stage, with If You Knew Susie Like I Know Susie.
While, I'm sure this is not a complete list (and it is a work in progress primarily for my own knowledge), and while some of these songs have been re-recorded by different artists, this is what I found:
1848: Oh Susanna by Stephen Foster
1925: Oh Susanna by Arthur Fields
1925: If You Knew Susie Like I Know Susie sung by Eddie Cantor
1928: Sweet Sue, Just You by Victor Young and Will Harris, sung by Bing Crosby
1945: Souix City Sue by Geme Autry
1957: Susie Q by Dale Hawkins
1957: Wake Up Little Susie by Everly Brothers
1957: Peggy Sue by Buddy Holly
1958: Little Suzie by the Blues Musician Ray Bryant
1958: Susie Darlin' by Robin Luke
1959: Suzy Baby by Bobby Vee
1959: That's My Little Susie by Ritchie Valens
1961: Runaround Sue by Dion and the Belmonts
1962: Susie Darlin' by Tommy Roe
1963: Sue's Gotta Be Mine by Del Shannon
1963: Tra La La La Suzy by Dean & Jean
1967: Susannah's Still Alive by Dave Davies
1967: Suzanne On A Sunday Morning by Ricky Nelson
1967: Susan by The Buckinghams
1968: Suzanne by Leonard Cohen
1968: Suzie Q by Creedence Clearwater Revivial
1969: Hello Suzie by Amen Corner
1969: Sorry Suzanne by The Hollies
1969: A Boy Named Sue by Johnny Cash
1970: Wake Up Little Susie by Marty Wilde
1971: Susan Van Heusen by Gilbert O'Sullivan
1972: Suzanne Beware Of The Devil by Dandy Livingstone
1976: Susan by The Spinners
1977: Wake Up Little Suzy by Mike Berry
1981: Runaround Sue by Brittish pop group, Racey
1981: Wake Up Little Susie by Simon and Garfunkel
1984: Susanna by Art Company
1997: Susan's House by The Eels
Susan Song by songwriter Tom Glazer
Susan's Song by Al Jarreau
Susan Himmelblå by Kim Larsen
19XX: Oh Sweet Susannah by Mooney Suzuki
19XX: Susan by Aimee Mann
19XX: Susie Q Sailaway by Self
19XX: Suzy Lee by The White Stripes
XXXX: Susanville by The Vandals
Sunbonnet Sue was written by songwriter Will D. Cobb back in 1906. A 1908 rendition by Harland is uploaded on Youtube.com. Listening to this recording brings back clear and beautiful memories of me standing next to my mother, combing her hair while she sang Sunbonnet Sue.
As I got older, I became ammusingly aware of the many songs that were written in honor of my name sake -- Sue, Susie, Suzy, Susan, Susanna, Suzanne. So I went on a search. Song writers, it seemed, were -- have been perpetually in love with some form of Susan since the mid 1800s.
In 1979, I walked into The Bagdad cabaret and nightclub, then on Broadway in San Francisco, and met with owner Jad Elias. A budding belly dancer with visions of grandeur and high expectations, I introduced myself to him. What quickly spilled out of his mouth left me standing in amazement.
I danced at The Bagdad for the next three years and feasted on the sweet lyrics of many an Arabic song, and one American one in particular. This highly respected Arabic musician often honored me from time to time, sometime on stage, with If You Knew Susie Like I Know Susie.
While, I'm sure this is not a complete list (and it is a work in progress primarily for my own knowledge), and while some of these songs have been re-recorded by different artists, this is what I found:
1848: Oh Susanna by Stephen Foster
1925: Oh Susanna by Arthur Fields
1925: If You Knew Susie Like I Know Susie sung by Eddie Cantor
1928: Sweet Sue, Just You by Victor Young and Will Harris, sung by Bing Crosby
1945: Souix City Sue by Geme Autry
1957: Susie Q by Dale Hawkins
1957: Wake Up Little Susie by Everly Brothers
1957: Peggy Sue by Buddy Holly
1958: Little Suzie by the Blues Musician Ray Bryant
1958: Susie Darlin' by Robin Luke
1959: Suzy Baby by Bobby Vee
1959: That's My Little Susie by Ritchie Valens
1961: Runaround Sue by Dion and the Belmonts
1962: Susie Darlin' by Tommy Roe
1963: Sue's Gotta Be Mine by Del Shannon
1963: Tra La La La Suzy by Dean & Jean
1967: Susannah's Still Alive by Dave Davies
1967: Suzanne On A Sunday Morning by Ricky Nelson
1967: Susan by The Buckinghams
1968: Suzanne by Leonard Cohen
1968: Suzie Q by Creedence Clearwater Revivial
1969: Hello Suzie by Amen Corner
1969: Sorry Suzanne by The Hollies
1969: A Boy Named Sue by Johnny Cash
1970: Wake Up Little Susie by Marty Wilde
1971: Susan Van Heusen by Gilbert O'Sullivan
1972: Suzanne Beware Of The Devil by Dandy Livingstone
1976: Susan by The Spinners
1977: Wake Up Little Suzy by Mike Berry
1981: Runaround Sue by Brittish pop group, Racey
1981: Wake Up Little Susie by Simon and Garfunkel
1984: Susanna by Art Company
1997: Susan's House by The Eels
Susan Song by songwriter Tom Glazer
Susan's Song by Al Jarreau
Susan Himmelblå by Kim Larsen
19XX: Oh Sweet Susannah by Mooney Suzuki
19XX: Susan by Aimee Mann
19XX: Susie Q Sailaway by Self
19XX: Suzy Lee by The White Stripes
XXXX: Susanville by The Vandals
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