September 11/1998

The past few months have been difficult ones. I decided to take the summer months away from my writing and away from my website. I checked my email regularly and have been delighted by the support and encouragement I have received since my dad passed unto the next level of the universe. I was amazed to see how many people who I don't keep in regular contact, with still read my diary and expressed notes of sympathy. That, along with the incredible support I received while visiting St.John's, Newfoundland....(my hometown) has been almost, at times, overwhelming! With over 150 emails to reply to...a backlog of realtime mail and bills as usual, I feel it's time to give myself a virtual kick in the butt.

I began to describe in detail my experience with my dad during his final hours but I simply found it too difficult to express, even in my writing, where I can often express the emotions that I can never bring to other forms of communication in my life. I have had moments in the past few months which have been incredibly peaceful and enlightening - while others have brought me to a depth of sadness that I have never known before. If you have been following my journal over recent months..now going into years!!! you will have found that I had a rocky relationship with my father that has haunted me in many areas of my life. I have come to realize, since his death, that the relationship haunted me, because I actually loved him. Through our dark and agonizing moments, I still loved him and I have not loved ... many people...! He hurt me deeply, and there were years I thought I hated him. I felt betrayed by him and for a long time we didn't speak, but those last hours with him, brought me back to my childhood moments of happiness and playfulness to things that were pure and good in our relationship. A time before he got ill and before anyone knew what was happening to his physicality and brain. Times like when he took our family on picnic outings or aboard the submarine vessel ashore in the harbour for a tour and many other beautiful and funfilled moments. I remember him soothing my tears by taking me on his knee and putting his big vein endorsed hands over mine as we traced lines until a picture of our horse was before us. As my tears subsided and my excitement rose, I would grab the picture that "I" had created to go show mom, my brother and of course, outside in our mosquito filled yard, to show Dolly, our rustic, quiet horse. I'd stand by the corner of the fence and yell D...O...L...L...Y and clap my loudest, just as dad had shown me, and soon she would come trotting from beyond the bush, offering me more thrills than any child could ever know. "Look what I drew you" I'd explain as she tickled my small trembling hands with her grass stained teeth! I'd grab her mane and hug her nose whispering.."I love you Dolly, I love you. " I'd slip her the 4 sugarcubes that I'd kept for days in my pocket and it would be as if we were the only two souls in the whole world. Childhood innocence and the ability to love. It left me.

Both that innocence and ability to love... left me. For years...left me. I am not sure whether it was my troubled family relationship or because I had always felt a vacancy at the thought of my birth and first moments of my life. They say the first 3 years are the most important for a child. My first year being drenched in violence and abandonment might have made me inevitably marked. So marked that an adoption into a FINE family could not repair, or so marked that at the first signs of withdrawal and abandonment from my father, the first person I had ever attached to in my childhood, were responded to with fierce rebellion. Anger, hatred and aggression were what I knew.

Biochemical imbalance was occuring in my father's body, and noone knew...as we fought out the cold years in bitterness and isolation. I had begun my grieving long ago. When dad was put into the nursing home some 2 years ago, shortly before I graduated from university, I stopped in my tracks. My will to proceed in life diminished. My desire to communicate eroded and I drifted around my life in a half awake state, not really caring if anyone understood my moods or lack of ability to motivate myself. I had begun grieving a death that had not occurred. And so, when my father drew his last breath on April 20th of this year, I felt a sudden urge to live. It was as if his breath ceased being and mine began.

He fought hard. I could see my father struggle to hang on to his breath, to his life in a sterness and pride that I would expect from him. I had never witnessed such a death. So brutal. So long. So ardous. So painful to watch. With each moment of my head near his, I felt parts of me begin to return. Seeing the hand that once intimidated me being drained by all oxygen and turn blue right before my eyes made me gasp for air and fear. I turned white feeling as if it was my blood being drained. Yet, I couldn't leave his side, I was feeling myself return to life and I struggled with that, just as he struggled with leaving. I ached for reassureness that we were doing the right thing by not letting him be kept alive by artificial means, as per his request. I ached to hear him speak one last time, and though noone near believed me that he squeezed my hand to acknowledge we were making the right decision, I have that feeling of his soft and weak hand announcing its power to me, etched forever in my memory and NOONE will ever remove it. It is My Memory and Mine Alone.

And there came a time to say good bye. I couldnt' watch close at the graveside. Instead I drove his car miles away on the big hill and watched from afar. I did not want to hear it. I could see it - fine. From miles. I did not want to hear the scrape of the box as it made its way into the dirt or as the clay landed on the top of it. I did not want to remember it that way. I wanted to see it..the many people, the tent, the colors, the blue sky, the green grass and the red steeple. I didnt' want to hear it, and I didn't. The sun shone as I heard the faint "amens" from the crowd. Instead of bowing my head with them, I looked up into the bright sky and shouted..."thank you for everything. Please forgive me, I have forgiven you...I'll never forget the good things." As people began to slow down as they passed by me, I thought I'd best jump back in the car and leave before they sent someone after me. I'm sure dad laughed at that. :)

Now, not 6 months later, that breath is enstilled into me. The depression that kept me weighted to my mattress day in and day out is lifting. The air that I ignored is now being swept deep into my lungs. The people that I was once afraid of, have enveloped my world and I am changing. My whole world has been shattered and built at the same time. The past finally makes sense, and is FINALLY the past and it is time to move on...which means MOVE. In just a few months I will be a WIFE. The title which I could never feel comfortable with, may now be adorned in peace. I feel my will to work, to laugh, to live and yes to love, finally returning. I am no longer submissive to grief. I am no longer controlled by the anger which I could never explain. I feel a sense of freedom. As each new box is packed and I prepare myself for a warmer climate, my heart is also warmed. As each article from my past is put on the auction block, each new rock and pebble I find is a source of creativity. The trees are new life and so is the wind. The past makes sense, as does the present and even the future. I am here now free...and I am not burdened by grief. A grief that I only know had me under its spell, by its proof of abandonment. Finally an abandonment that I can devour with joy. Finally I am without fear...and I can love again. Good night TaMarah May

September 12/1998

My life has proven to me that friends don't come easily and the cliche that says 'if you get one true friend in your whole life then you are doing well' is definitely a cliche for a reason. I believe that! I believe that there are especially two times in a person's life when you find out what a true friend is or when you find out who your true friend's are. Those times would be a-when you are down lower than a snake's belly and kissing dirt and b-when things are turning around for you and life is looking up. True friends at both times offer support and their love while those only pretending to be your friend, eat away at your every weakness in an effort to keep you back.

I am now so cautious about who my friends are. After being burned over and over again, when I was in the snake stage I take much precaution to keep out the bad boogers! Now that I am feeling as if my life is slowly taking a turn for the better, I can see vague actions of those around me who would rather my life stay in its vicarious rut. (One bad thing about being an orphan is ... you put farrrr too much emphasis on what other people think of you or who loves you or who doesn't.) I'm getting better at that though and I'm getting better at not allowing others into my life before I know them really well. That way..when you see odd behaviours and attempts at control dancing around your vibration, it is easy to simply turn the other cheek, so to speak. It is alot easier for me now to not get involved with people. When I was younger and up to a few years ago, I would welcome everyone with open arms and welcome them aboard my rattly existance thinking that I was lucky to have THEM as a friend... A few months later I would find out who the person was and would get a rude awakening. NOW THEY ARE LUCKY TO FIND ME!!! As I keep most people at arm's length, I feel I have so much more control of my destiny and the direction my life is taking. I am sensitive to control and let's face it, who isn't? I find that most people ,if given the opportunity, would try to dictate each other's lives and would attempt to dominate them whether it is through kindness, hatred or manipulation. All are often done in an effort to control circumstances or people. I am reading an excellent book right now about the power of attention seeking in our society. It is amazing how this narrowly explored area of study explains so much of social behaviour and people's general need to control and dominate others. Everyone is seeking attention of course. ANYONE WHO SAYS THEY DON'T WANT IT IS SIMPLY LYING. Even the pure monk isolating from others wants attention for his purity..whether it be from his belief of a creator or from society. He still wants attention. It is how one goes about getting that attention is what brings hatred or kindness towards a person and what determines a person's character. It is true that what you put out will indeed come back to you. I truly believe that...as is the law of Karma.

So the past is the past. Now I can't wait to be with my fiance, my new dog and my new life. This is the only change that has made sense to me in a very long time. I am anxiously awaiting the finalization of all my plans so my new life will begin. It is so exhilerating knowing I am entering into a brand new phase of my life that I never thought would happen, and it is true that I believe I am being blessed after suffering a terribly long period of grief. I feel I am finally heading towards a home, something I haven't felt I had in years, if ever. Of course having had an adulthood that has in many ways reeked of instability, I can't help but wonder what will happen next that will be shocking or cause chaos in my world. I am, at least attempting to go towards the positive, head towards the light. The lights are on and finally there is someone home! Night...TaMarah :)

September 14/1998

rothflmaof and...lmgo In internet language that's - rolling on the floor laughing my ass off or...laughing my guts out! That's what I've been doing since this whole Clinton saga begun. Maybe once you know that I've read about 300 of the 430 page Starr report you'll be having the last laugh. hahaha BORING...perhaps it was my keen interest in the law? Anyway..I liked Whoopi Goldberg's response...."is impeachment really worth a blow job or was it... is a blow job worth an impeachment?" Whatever...she made me laugh, even though much of her politics, in general are not everything I agree with. She does make some good points, far more interesting ones, I might add, than the media and the rest of the garbage going on about Clinton's cigar fetish and the number of blow jobs he got lately. Too bad they didn't go into sizes of things...I figure if THE REAL CIGAR was measured we'd understand the root of all of America's political problems. Dick size. OF COURSE!!! Why else would he need to use a cigar...it obviously must have been alot bigger! Take the presidency away from Bill now and he won't have a leg to stand on..everyone knows that small dicked men have the most power or the biggest cars. :)) Poor Bill....caught with his pants down.

On a more somber note though, MY love life in the past isn't anything to use as a model. No sirreee.. When I was Monica's age I was doing the same thing..running around with a small dicked Power Vulture. Mostly it was my own lack of power that I was feeling and hanging around a small dicked man made me feel better about myself. I guess Monica's self esteem was pretty low or I can't imagine her wanting to be there on her knees at the president's desk doing what she should have been paid for! Sheesh...she even lost her whitehouse jobs and I don't think she had near the amount of orgasms he had...Where are the women in politics? I mean she did alot of work to fight for the rights of women so that they could give blowjobs and still hold down jobs in the whitehouse...there should be a law about that!!!!! Monica the feminist who is working her way to the top...:) I know grotesque but it boils me...she got so much publicity...she can write a book now and make a few bucks. Where are all the other women who are giving blowjobs and not getting in the media..shit...not fair..where are the rights in that? Anyway..I'm off on a tangent tonight ... I think I need to see my lover soon or I'll be considered as perverted as Bill. Ironic..it's all ironic. Bill Clinton has always looked and sounded slimy to me, I really don't know what all the fuss is about...it's a good laugh it's all I can get from the fiasco. :) Night Night TaMarah

September 17/1998

After yesterday I will always have a special place in my heart for Pigeons. The birds I risked my life for in order to give them a french frie or two. Lesson learned in the heart of our civil Halifax city? Feeding a pigeon could endanger your life!

It all started with the sun. If it hadn't of been so sunny out I would have walked right past Bud the Spud. But with the wind as warm as a spring afternoon and my guts doing a flip to the tune of Bud the Spud's fine aroma, I couldn't resist a medium home fries and a diet coke. Everyone knows as well I'm so attached to animals that if I could have a zoo, I would...but since I can only afford a medium fries as opposed to a zoo, I settled.

I sat shamelessly at the edge of the bench and tossed a couple of fries to the darlings. I always love it when the herd of them comes rushing over to me or when one or more lands softly on my arm as if to say thank you. You know what I was saying about attention in my writing the other day? Well...I guess feeding pigeons is a way I get attention. I love attention from animals...it makes me feel special and it makes me feel all mushy inside. Anyway...I was playing away with the pigeons when the guy sitting at the other end of the bench got disgusted I guess. How anyone can be disgusted with beautiful birds I'll never understand, anyway he was disgusted enough to get up and move and swear a bit. OK...so I shouldn't have thrown a french frie within 1 foot of him which caused a major rush of pigeons to run by him...HE FREAKED...but when I saw him lean off and kick an innocent pigeon in the guts I knew this guy was not playing with a full deck. Just my luck!

He made his way back to me and began his little speech. "So you find that funny?"

"which part" I shyly asked...trying desperately not to laugh as his face turned so red he looked like a fresh apple with eyeballs.

"well you bitch, you're dirty scum", he continued kindly.

umm I realized I had to be careful as he must have been on a day pass, even though he dressed and looked as normal as any other Halifax city slicker.

"well sir", I calmly said, " I love these birds..they are far more loving and peaceful than alot of human beings, I am really sorry you feel that way..."

I would have loved to have given my attacker a little Tae Kwon Do chop across the head, however, I believe in peace. I smiled and warmly said, "I really wish you'd go away and stop harassing me..."

I guess that comment pushed him over the edge and I had no choice but to plop a french frie his way which bounced perfectly off his pudgy nose. At least it got him to leave me alone, but I had never seen or heard of anyone so upset since the day John Kennedy got killed. He huffed and puffed and...well went about a mile away and sat down and stared at me until I finished my french fries with my friends the birds who crowded around me, I swear to show me support. I also swear that if he had of come closer the birds would have showered him with fresh doo doo...and pecked his hair out! Anyway..me being the shit disturber that I am...and having to pass by him in order to get to where I was going...made the situation worse. Perhaps that is what I wanted, as I prefer the truth about a situation and person to be shown as publicly as possible, so that it will be dealt with. I knew I could have waited for him to leave the area, however, I was on a tight schedule and I had one hundred places to go and I don't like to be controlled by anyone. I really didn't have a big choice. I headed down the street...smiling and I put up my peace sign as I passed him. With that my life flashed before my eyes as he flung his entire lunch at me! (hey the pigeons would be happy) I said, "oh you've decided to feed the pigeons?"

He jumped in front of me red faced and cursed like I'd never heard anyone curse. To make it all worse, I couldn't understand a word he was saying. Two men came running asking if I was ok, "as he screamed he needed help, that there should be police..." When I asked was it because of the french frie on his nose, his eyes grew hazy. The guys hushered me to safety and began to "take care" of Mr. Pigeon Breath.

I went about my business.

Forgive me but did I lose a message? Ok so you don't like pigeons. I do. Before the fiasco there were no more than 4 pigeons around my feet. By the time he made his rampage, I had gathered an army of about 100. What was the deal? Something tells me that it wasn't the pigeons. To tell the truth I think there are some people that just prey on what they perceive to be the weak and meak. For example the act of me feeding the pigeons brought out a vulnerablity in this oddity that he couldn't handle so he had to try and have me killed. He probably wouldn't have minded if I smoked, swore or beat up someone in his presence but please...he couldn't handle me feeding a pigeon. When I saw him kick the pigeon in the stomach I thought, 'now that's not a guy I would want around kids.' I thought any grown man who felt the need to kick an innocent bird in public was not somoene I would even want in PUBLIC.

It all reminded me of the time I was on a bus towards the states with my Big Big Teddy Bear. I guess me holding a teddy bear showed a certain vulnerability that I was assumed in having. The wackos who tried to scam me on my way to Boston couldn't figure out how I could actually have a few brains and be able to take care of myself, just because I had a teddy bear with me. Perhaps it was the same with Pigeon Breath. Maybe he thought I would let him away with his abuse if I was as vulnerable and soft to feed a pigeon. He got upset because he couldnt' control me. A vulnerable being sitting next to him on a park bench wanting peace for lunch with my fries and coke.

I don't want to blame it all on Halifax, but...I have not met more ruder, arrogant people since I have lived here. I have travelled all over Canada and alot of the U.S. now but I have never had the horrible experiences I have had here! The guys on the bus heading towards Boston that were trying to Scam me, got on the bus near Halifax. My ex from Hell is living in Halifax and the most horrible friendships I've ever experienced have been with people associated in this area. I'm sorry, I hate to leave town with a chip on my shoulder about Halifax, but...I do feel my friend was right when he advised me not to stay long here when I re-settled here 8 years ago. He said that I would find the most conceited, empty people in the world in that city. I didn't believe him at the time, but now that I am leaving, I do. I have met some beautiful people here too that I will stay in touch with, but mostly, I'm heading towards the south with a feeling of a NEGATIVITY surrounding this city. Alot of people here are negative, cold, two faced and self centered. To truly be happy in this town, perhaps you have to want to be that way too. Sorry, I'm heading home to something warmer. Bye Halifax...for the most part...you've been cold and therefore we are not compatible. :)