dangerous sex

i dreamt that i was riding in a convertible, and i gave a young man a ride. he was a golden-haired athlete with a breezy manner. i was feeling free and powerful, and it was pleasant to flirt with him. it made me feel good.

he enjoyed it, too. i pulled up to his house. he leapt out, said goodbye, then hesitated. he leaned over the open window on the driver's side and, hair falling in eyes, asked if he oculd see me again. i laughed and suggested we meet right now, in his apartment.

i followed him up the stairs. his place was extremely nice - beautiful warm wood, floor-to-ceiling windows that opened up onto a tree-lined view. there was his bed, in the middle of the room. but we sat on the couch for a bit. i boldly asked him if he wanted to go to bed with me. he assented.

kissing, we moved effortlessly to the bed. but as we fell into the covers a chill came over me. he was holding my wrists very tightly. i told him it hurt, but he didn't seem to hear. suddenly i grew very afraid. what had i gotten myself into? i had no idea who this guy was. i was terrified. i told him to stop. i couldn't struggle against him without injuring myself. and when i looked into his eyes i was suddenly sure that he meant to do me harm. but in my dream i was powerless to act.

i woke up sweating. i felt terribly guilty at first because it was all my fault, and then i realized that it wasn't wrong of me to want a casual fling; it wasn't wrong of me to resist when it turned in a direction that frightened me. more than anything, this dream simply reinforced for me my conviction that rape is never a woman's fault.

Moving

Last night I had dinner with my family: Justin, Anne, Ryan, and my aunt, Sumiko. It's a new family configuration for us, but it seems to work well. Miko-chan, as we affectionately name her, is a sweet and wonderful woman with a lively sense of humor that keeps her laughing, even in times like this. "Think of me as your mother," she has said in the past, and I don't think of it as replacement, but supplement.

After dinner, Justin and I went to Adam and Lisa's house, where Lisa was having a going-away get-together before her trip. It was good to sit around their kitchen table and talk about the stuff we always talked about. Lisa is an amazing photographer; before I left on my tour she did a session with me, and the results are pretty stunning (and have less to do with the subject, truly, than the skill of the photographer). The theme was "post-apocalyptic princess". Browsing through Lisa's other photos you will see that her eye is sharp and compassionate and inviting. I had the urge to grab the camera from her and turn the lens on my photographer, as in that scene from The Unbearable Lightness of Being. Lisa said all her female subjects said the same thing.

Today is the memorial service. I am so worried about the logistical details. A friend of my mother's, most recently her closest friend and one who was in the church with her, has telephoned Anne to say that she wouldn't be coming. I feel immensely disappointed. Does she feel that we are not doing a proper job, a good enough job? I will be glad when this is all over.

I think this morning about Lisa and her photographs. I want to create again. Justin bought me an easel when he was in Finland, and it sits waiting for me on my desk, with a half-finished painting on it. Tomorrow morning I will take up a brush and mix colors and continue with life, richer and fuller than before.

What Death Does

I've lost my short-term memory. I can't recall what it is that I set about to do from moment to moment. The loss of my mother is there, but sitting waiting in the background, patient as she was in life, waiting for me to be ready. In the meantime I'm sending out funeral notices and trying to condense the story of my mother's life to five paragraphs to be printed out at Kinko's.

I also browse obsessively through my contact list in Outlook. Who should I tell? How should I tell? Friends from high school I haven't seen in years - should I try to contact them? Tell them? If so, what would I say? "Hi, remember me? My mom died. How are you?"

But the urge to reach out is strong. When my father died, I retreated. I dropped out from life and refused to mourn in front of people. I saved the pain for private times. This time, I think I'm more mature. I am rich in friends and my wanting to contact them is not so much a craving for pity and sympathy but an acknowledgement of the sudden realization that friendships matter, that every brief but fulfilling moment spent in touch with someone else matters. Suddenly everything matters so much, and I want people to know that.

It's so silly. I've been reviewing my network on Friendster and writing testimonials, discovering that everyone I know has value. We have such fragile bonds with each other, really. A few phone calls missed, an email gone astray, and most of us stop being "friends". There are very few people, normally, whom you can be close to forever without feeling the penalties of distance and neglect. But I'm tingling with connections. Everyone I know, everyone I meet, everyone I will meet - we are all linked together, aren't we? In this life, we all share this life together, and the death of one makes me open my eyes and wonder at the life that is all around me.

And what I feel most of all is love. Strange and abstract, but such a deep affection for the humans all around me working and playing and living their lives. And specific affections, too, for everyone I know, and the way I remember them in my heart: the way she listens as she pushes her glasses up her nose or the way he stroked my back briefly as he hugged me the last time I saw him; the way she squeezed my shoulder, the way she signs her emails, the way he looked in the only photograph I own of him, tall and slightly stooped, his arm around me; the way he asked me out and I almost said yes, the way she fell asleep on the floor with a cat on her tummy, the way he used to look at himself in the reflection of the store windows, the way she swears as she drives.

In this way I create a cocoon around myself, making room for my mother. I reach out for each thin thread of another person's life to weave around my own, around my body, around my heart, spinning out the memory and re-working it into my own story. In this nest of love she'll be able to rest, in my heart, surrounded by the memories of everyone I love.

Shifting

My mother died yesterday afternoon.

She was fifty-seven.

We knew she was ill but it was a very sudden stroke which felled her in the end. She was far too young, in any fair world, to die. I find myself angry sometimes, thinking of all the things she was getting ready to do. And then I find myself resigned. And then sad.

Mostly, though, I am unable to give in fully to grieving. There is so much to arrange, so much to do, so much organization. I am almost relieved that my mind is so distracted.

Friends have been generous, and I thank you. I have not yet absorbed what all this means in my life. I think that might take a while.

...

I've been offline lately. On Wednesday morning while we were driving up from L.A. my sister called to say that my mother had had another stroke. We've been dealing with that since. There's much I'd like to write, but now is not the time.

There are so many wonderful friends and family members who have been priceless to me and my family, and I sincerely thank you all. I can't do this without you. Thank you thank you thank you. Words fail me, but know that I have the warmest love and gratitude for you in my heart.

A Shortened Tour

We had to cut the tour short, but we did have a good time up until then, playing in the "Asians in Rock" festival and playing at the beach and at karaoke with Scrabbel (they don't seem to have an active website anymore but you can get their stuff at kittnet).

We got some tattoos - here's Helen and Natalie, looking tough:

Chris and Chris, looking tuff:

and me:

We also wrote and recorded a song on the drive, which you can download from the Dealership website. It's called "In the Car", and it's a happy reminder of trouble-free times on the road.

Weird Email, Wide World

people are strange. weird faux-white supremacist email showed up in my inbox today. i found that my dominant emotion, far from being horrified, was curiosity. why do people do such things? is it to affect someone else (although they may never learn of the power, or lack thereof, of their words)? is it to cause a small ripple in the universe? is the impulse experimental?

in any case, it was not random, because the subject was "Good article on RPG.net"; the text, some heiling of hitler and calling of names, too tiresome and uninspired to repeat here. an anonymous coward hiding behind a hotmail account, perhaps wondering what his or her words might incite, i suppose. well, if you are reading this, i should like to ask you just what your purpose is. what is it that you do all day? what calling do you feel you have? if your aim was to upset me, i cannot say i regret to report that you have failed; but what you did do was excite my wonder at the vast range of humanity - if indeed such behavior may be categorized under that name - there exists in this ever-marvelous and fascinating world.

tomorrow i leave on my tour. i am packed and ready. i've got DVDs in my bag, a trusty tube of lipstick, and my GBA. i'm delighted to explore what the future holds!

Where the Girls Are

at Gencon! That's right, I went to GenCon last month and wrote an article for RPG.net. It's now online! FemCon: The Gaming Girls of GenCon.

Musical Travels!

Okay, so I'm going on tour with the band! It's only on the west coast, but here are some dates we know so far - if you live in the area and feel like coming out to see us, it would be great to meet you!

Some dates:
August 17th - Twiggs Coffeehouse (San Diego, CA)

August 18th - Espresso Cafe (Oceanside, CA)

August 19th - The Gypsy Lounge (Lake Forest, CA)

August 21st - Le Voyeur (Olympia, WA)

August 22nd - Graceland (Seattle, WA)

August 23rd - Bob's Java Jive (Tacoma, WA)

August 27th - Spaceland (Silverlake, CA)

Makeover

Okay, looking a little better now. A little more like me. I need to add some categories and some links and, uh, some design. Maybe too much pink? I'm feeling very pro-pink these days.

Brand new Fresh Start

... still working on importing my old entries. but here's the new home of umami tsunami. long may it prosper.

test

let's see how this works