"The Aristocats" - Disney animated film review

Some of you may know that, even though I'm now a Disney fan, I didn't grow up in a Disney household, so I haven't actually seen many of the classic Disney animated films. Well, I guess now is as good a time as any to remedy that. So it's not a bookclub or a viewing club, but a discussion-generating thread that originated on my Facebook account.

I'm going to watch one Disney animated movie a week, and then every week, I'll post my thoughts on it. Anyone who wants to participate is welcome, and if you have Disney+ or own the movie, you can refresh your memory by watching it again. Or just comment from memory because you've seen it so many times!

I started this several weeks ago, and the first film I started with was "The Aristocats".

I've never known much about this movie, but I assumed it was about ... cats. Right. But the only scenes/clips I've ever seen of it are the band of cats playing jazz, so I always thought it was about upper class musical cats. Hmmm, no.

It only took a little while into the movie for me to figure out that it's a feline version of Lady and the Tramp. I mean Lady/Duchess and Tramp/O'Malley-cat? Yeah, dead giveaway.

Overall, I enjoyed the film. I absolutely loved the backgrounds - such beautiful paintings of Paris and environs. Makes me want to go back even more.

I also really liked how they treated the characterizations of the cats. They had VERY cat-like features and moves and expressions, but when they were doing human-ish things, they still seemed believable and seemed to incorporate their catness (not Katniss) into the activity. I've been watching a lot of cat videos lately, so it was fun to see how wonderfully they recreated the little kittens in animation that long ago.

I was pretty curious about the styling of Thomas. It took me a minute to figure out why he was striking me as a bit odd. There were certain looks of his that kept reminding me of Shere Khan, from the Jungle Book. And then, I realized that they drew him not like the small cats (aka house cats, like Duchess and her kittens), but rather, like the Big Cats, like tigers. At first, I thought it was just a difference between him and the kittens, but then I remembered that Duchess was an adult cat. In one scene with just the two of them together, Duchess has the dainty nose of a house cat, and Thomas has the bigger snout of a tiger. I don't think it's just a male/female thing either, because male house cats also generally have the small nose.

I also thought it was amusing that Thomas was voiced as a suave American who sweeps the upper class French Duchess off her feet, even though she's voiced by a Hungarian. I hadn't known that and was pleasantly surprised at how much I enjoyed Eva Gabor's performance.

And to the kittens. Marie, the sweet little kitten - is an absolute flirt. Oh, wait, no, that's wrong. She's a FLIRT. Wow.

And why does Marie have a British accent?

My favorite kitten was actually Touloose. He was so cute, and I especially liked when he was trying to be puffy. It's so adorable when a little kitty is trying to be menacing by making themselves half an inch taller. And when he tried to hiss and spit, he just ended up drooling.

The third kitten - yeah, don't know his name, couldn't figure out his name no matter how many times they said it, even read his name in the credits and STILL don't and won't remember his name.

I liked the "he's marinated" line about the older male goose. At one point when the three of them were talking, I said to the husband that they were very loud. He replied that geese ARE very loud. Ah, ok.

I liked the movie but I'm not sure how much I'd watch it. Edit together the scenes of the kittens being cute, and yeah, I'd watch that all the time. No surprise there.

My only real criticism of the film - that Siamese cat in the band is pretty offensive, especially when they have him playing the piano with chopsticks. I know, it's a sign of the times, but the way the cat is drawn and the speech affectation - UGH. Thankfully, he has very little screen time.

Oh, I forgot to mention. Maybe they'll do a live action version of The Aristocats like they've been doing with other animated films. We know there's the technology to do live action people cats.

My Star Wars Story or How I Came to Have a Rental in Black Spire Outpost

Like many other Star Wars fans, I was thrilled when The Walt Disney Company announced that they would be building a new land in both Anaheim and Orlando themed to Star Wars. When more information was released that the setting would be a new planet we had previously not been acquainted with, I wasn't entirely sure what to expect. They didn't want people going in with preconceived notions and pre-set expectations, as would happen if they were to build Tattooine or Bespin or Endor or Coruscant or Naboo or Mustafar or Jakku or Crait. Instead, we were going to be introduced to the planet of Batuu, which once was a busy hub but is now a quieter outer rim planet. Black Spire Outpost has a contingent of First Order troopers as well as Kylo Ren himself, but there's a resistance camp in the nearby forest that includes Rey and Chewie. They wanted us to be able to step in and create our own stories in this world.

I wasn't sure about the "create your own story" part. To me, that was aimed at the cosplayers, which hasn't ever been my thing for any of the interests I have. But ok, I'm willing to see how that works.

Galaxy's Edge (the Disney theme park term for the land) aka Black Spire Outpost on Batuu opened at Disneyland on May 31, 2019. For the first three weeks after opening, reservations to enter the land were required and would give visitors a set block of time in which to explore and enjoy the land. I am blessed with many friends who also like Star Wars, and many were kind enough to include me on their reservations into Black Spire Outpost, so for those three weeks, I got to spend quite a bit of time on Batuu.

And from the first, I loved it. Sure, I mean, everyone's WOW moment is probably seeing the Millenium Falcon in person for the first time. I could stare at that thing for hours, imagining walking up the gangway, sitting in the cockpit, wandering around the ship.

But it's not just the Falcon. I love wandering around the marketplace, looking at all the decor and the different merchandise that's available.

I like visiting the sleeping loth cat, whose snores are quite loud during quieter times. I love looking up at the sky and stars through the latticework of the ceiling.

 

I love going to the Droid Depot and visiting the pit droids and K-2SO.

I've loved my visits to Oga's Cantina with different friends and even just strolling past and when the door is open, you can get a quick glimpse of DJ R3X inside and hear the sounds of people enjoying themselves.

 

 

I've loved wandering to the resistance camp, and I've even spent an hour late in the evening, standing outside the queue for Rise of the Resistance, listening to the radio transmissions of the resistance and hearing the sounds of the roaring creature (rancor?) in the cave as well as those rustling and stomping to the left of and behind the queue area. I've loved trying out all the new dishes at Docking Bay 7, and I love listening to the sounds while I'm sitting inside. There's something very soothing about it.

I love sitting at the tables by Ronto Roasters (sometimes enjoying a tasty ronto wrap), and on one side, you can hear the radio broadcast that also plays inside the restroom near the milk stand. I enjoy Smugglers Run but I don't always ride it when I'm in Black Spire Outpost. I've spent quite a bit of time in BSO by myself, and there's just something about being there, hearing the sounds, looking at the beautiful buildings and the small details. I've spent time there just reading, I've spent time there laughing and joking around with friends, and I've spent time there having fairly serious conversations with friends. It's home.

 

And as I spent quite a bit of time in BSO during its first few weeks, and having interacted with some of the Batuuans (and learning the local phrases and terms for things), I started wondering where they lived. Some commute in to work from outside BSO. I figured that like many other cities where the businesses are on the ground level and the dwellings are on the upper levels, I figured some must live on the second floor or higher in places like the marketplace. And with as much time as I was spending there, I started thinking it would be nice for me to have somewhere local to stay. And that idea took hold. I need an apartment on BSO. So, I started looking. I looked around the marketplace and by the speeders and by Savi's and in the First Order section, noting positives and negatives about each potential location.

 

This is next to where the speeders are parked, so this might be where some of the mechanics live. I could maybe rent just a room. It's a little bit away from the main part of town so it's a little quieter. And there's even a bridge that takes you directly to the main marketplace.

There's lodging above Savi's so that might work out to rent a room as well. It looks like nicer digs though, so it might be too expensive.

These apartments could be ok but they're really close to the cantina so it could be a bit loud. And it's close to the First Order square. I had been concerned about the blaster fire, but I'm learning there's remnants of blaster fire *everywhere*.

I'd been looking at this next to the milk stand. I'm thinking it might be the dwelling for the family that runs the stand so I could maybe rent a room. But a friend says it looks more like a religious building so I need to investigate further.

After a while, I decided that I didn't need an entire apartment. Just renting a room would be fine, just somewhere I could rest and spend the night. And I came upon the perfect idea. I've been quite fascinated with the milk stand, which is run by Bubo Wamba Family Farms. I love the decor, and I do like both the blue and green milk there.

I noticed an entrance on the back side of the milk stand and decided I could rent a room in the back part. I liked the idea of the family farm and started to see what information I could find out about them to incorporate into my story but turns out, there was nothing. There are a few books due out in the next few months about BSO, which may or may not include any info about Bubo Wamba, but for the moment, it's a blank canvas that I can work with. Cool.

I decided that what made the most sense would be that I'd meet a member of the family who would facilitate my renting the room. And then I realized THAT was my Star Wars story. It wasn't about cosplay or creating another character for myself, but rather, about incorporating my time in BSO into my normal life. And, if I was going to have a Star Wars story, Robert definitely had to be part of it.

We lost Robert to lymphoma five years ago today. Robert was one of my best friends, and Disneyland and Star Wars were some of the interests that we shared. He was supposed to have gone to Star Wars Celebration in Anaheim in 2015 where they ended up announcing Star Wars land, but that didn't happen. Robert would have loved Black Spire Outpost and to be surrounded by so much Star Wars. He would have definitely built at least one droid in the Droid Depot.

So in working out the story of how I was able to rent a room at the milk stand, it made sense that I would have become friends with one of the members of the Wamba family. So Robert was the inspiration to create that character, in name and in some details and in backstory.

This is my Star Wars story:

I was sitting and reading a history book on Batuu one night, and one of the locals stopped to chat. Rojuin Wamba is the third offspring of the family that runs the milk stand in Black Spire Outpost. We've gotten to chatting a few times and have become friends. I happened to mention to Rojuin that I was looking for a place, and Rojuin said that they have a private room in the back of the milk stand. Rojuin checked with their family, and it's all set. There's an entrance into the building behind the milk stand, and my room is to the left of the door. You might see some of their employees using that door from time to time to bring supplies and such into the building. You'd think it might be a bit loud with all that machinery going, but it actually has a hypnotic rhythm and hum that's very soothing. And I might get a chance to learn about how they process the blue and green milk, so I'm excited!

I would have spent a lot of time with Robert in Black Spire Outpost, and sometimes when I'm there, I'm sad that we never got that chance. So I'll just have to create adventures with Rojuin instead.

Lamplight Lounge - dinner - June 25, 2018

While we didn't go very often, we were fans of Ariel's Grotto restaurant.  So we were intrigued when Disney announced that they were re-theming the restaurant to Pixar.  Lamplight Lounge - oh, how cute.  I'll admit I was baffled when I heard some people say they didn't understand why it was called that.  Ummm, hello, what's one of the iconic symbols of Pixar?  The lamp!

We were lucky enough to get a reservation for the downstairs dining area the Monday after opening weekend.  We know that normally, there are some growing pains when a new restaurant opens, but we were excited to try it.

The outside marquee for Lamplight Lounge, which is still unfinished.

 

This is my favorite picture, on the side of the restaurant.  Gorgeous.

This is the logo on the floor after you walk in to check in.

We checked in and then waited for our name to be called to be shown to our table.  The waiting area has beautiful concept drawings from various Pixar films.

Slinky Dog from Toy Story.

Merida from Brave.

Wall-E and Eve.

Hanging from the ceiling in the middle of the circular staircase is a gorgeous paper chandelier with lots of cool drawings.

Even the normal restaurant signs had a Pixar touch.

The exit sign includes a reference to Up.

The maximum occupancy sign is watched over by Wall-E and Eve.

After a while, we were called to our table and descended the stairs to the downstairs dining room.  It was fun to see the ball wall.  We'd seen a version of it at the D23 Expo but I don't think that version was illuminated.

After we were seated, we perused the menu.  One section had "bites", smaller items, and the other section had more entree-type selections.  There was also a separate extensive list of alcoholic beverages available.

After we ordered, we were brought coasters for our drinks.  They all had the same picture on one side, with the Lamplight Lounge name and logo, but there were different pictures on the other side.

One side of all of the coasters is the same.

One of the coasters we got happened to have Mr. Incredible on the other side.

The husband and I each ordered an entree and we also ordered a smaller plate to share.


For our shared plate, we ordered the crab and tuna roll.  We both enjoyed this, though I mostly avoided the sauce on the bottom since I don't generally care for sauce on my sushi rolls.

Crab and tuna roll.

The husband ordered the salmon plt - a salmon sandwich with pancetta, lettuce and tomato, which comes with a side of fries.  He liked the sandwich.

Salmon plt - salmon with pancetta, lettuce and tomato.

I have in recent years become a huge fan of ratatouille, so I was excited to see it on the menu, so I did not hesitate to order that.  I was a little surprised at the presentation of the dish as I had come to expect ratatouille with sliced vegetables, so clearly, I didn't read the menu well enough to see that it was a ragout, but no matter, the ingredients are the same.  I was not, however, expecting the large hunk of cheese in the dish.  I've only had ratatouille on several occasions, but it's always just been the zucchini and eggplant and tomatoes and maybe a few other vegetables/squash, and after our dinner and I was doing a search for recipes, all the ones I found only included those ingredients and not cheese.  Again, I probably didn't read the menu very closely because I knew I wanted the ratatouille, but even if I'd paid attention that the dish included warm burrata cheese, it would not have occurred to me that it would be such a large portion of it, almost as if you were getting a protein-size portion of cheese.  One of the things I particularly like about ratatouille is that it's generally a very clean and light dish, since it's all vegetables and squash.  The burrata cheese, especially in such a huge portion, made the dish incredibly heavy, and I ended up leaving much of the cheese on the plate and trying to eat the vegetables around it.  I do have to say that I was pretty disappointed with this dish.

Ratatouille ragout with warm burrata cheese,

On a completely different note, because of the Pixarfest celebration at the Disneyland Resort this summer, there were many other Pixar-related food items available around the resort.  Cafe Orleans at Disneyland was offering a three-course prix fixe that included a cheese plate, ratatouille with shrimp, and dessert, so we had the chance to try that in July.  The ratatouille was so good in that instance, and even with the added protein of shrimp, it wasn't heavy, which it might have been if they'd added some other protein instead.  I was told that after Pixarfest, the prix fixe menu would be taken off but that the ratatouille would stay on the menu.  I'm really hoping that's true.  Here's a link to my Twitter post with pictures of the ratatouille at Cafe Orleans.




So being less than satisfied with my dinner was not the only negative experience I had at Lamplight Lounge.  When we were taken to our seats, we were actually taken to the extensive bar area that was added to the downstairs dining room.  I often like to sit at the bar in restaurants, and it's not what I had in mind in this case, but ok, no problem.  Except that for the seats they took us to, one of the seats was actually behind a pillar.  Ummm, really?  I told the hostess that those seats weren't going to work for us, and she suggested that we could move over if we wanted to.  It's not like the bar was packed that night - there were plenty of seats, and yet they felt the need to take us to seats where one was behind a pillar?  And really, who designs a bar so that two of the seats are facing a pillar?  I guess I could understand if the bar was totally packed and someone really wanted to eat there and was told that the seat was in front of a pillar and they wanted to sit there anyway, kind of like a "blocked view" seat at a stage show.

They originally told us to sit in the two seats next to where the husband is sitting.  We moved over one so that I wasn't sitting in front of a pillar.  You can clearly see that no one else was seated at the bar on that side at the time.

After we had ordered and were waiting for our food, we were looking around at the restaurant, and really, all of the seating was weird.  This is the outdoor section to the right of where I was sitting.

One of the other problems with the new ginormous bar is that it's open to the outside - one side of patrons at the bar are sitting inside while the other side of patrons (like the husband and me) were sitting outside).  That also means that during a certain portion of the day, the bartender who is serving us and anyone else sitting on that side is staring directly into the blinding sun.  Who thought this was a good idea to do to the bartenders?

The sun had gone down a little at this point but was still blinding for our bartender.

This was the rest of the bar to the left of us, and you can get an idea of how huge the bar area is.  The little outcropping "table" jutting out from the bar is not nearly long enough to make seating comfortable.  Let's say a group of 3 is sitting there, with one on the end and one on each side.  That's great - until you realize that it means the next seat at the bar is unusable because you can't possibly have someone sitting there because there's not enough room.  Again, design considerations that make no sense.

The side chairs on the outcropping block anyone from sitting at the bar at that spot.

I get that with the whole Pixar Pier reboot (which will presumably remain even after the end of the official Pixarfest after Labor Day), it made sense to re-theme the restaurant.  But the concept they came up with completely does not fit the area.  Even with the bar upstairs, the restaurant downstairs has had a family feel to it.  You know what would go with the family-themed Pixar Pier concept?  A hip and trendy gastropub!  Really?  Really.  In other reviews and things I've read, Lamplight Lounge has been referred to as a gastropub, which makes the limited menu and heavy alcoholic offerings and weird seating groupings make much more sense, but it's completely out of place in that setting.  Guests with children aren't going to be able to sit at the bar area, and some adults can't manage to sit at bar seating either.  Many of the tables are set up in a way that limits the amount of seating, which again makes no sense in that environment.  And none of these are a matter of "opening weekend" bugs.  The design of the restaurant isn't going to change.  The ginormous bar isn't going to magically get smaller.  I suppose the menu can change - I haven't paid attention to whether any changes have been made since our visit (as I'm writing this in mid-August).

I can tell you that while I'm very interested in the restaurants and other food offerings at the Disneyland Resort, I was decidedly not happy with our experience at Lamplight Lounge.  It's not a place I'd recommend to my friends or anyone asking for dining advice.  The menu (and the ratatouille) could be fixed, to some degree.  The design and seating issues cannot.




That being said, while there were clearly things I was not happy about, there were some non-design decor elements that I really liked - the whimsy that I'd have expected from a Pixar-themed restaurant.  Let's end on a happy note, shall we?

In the outdoor seating area, I love that the "don't feed the birds" sign is accompanied by a seagull from Finding Nemo.

The walkway area to the restrooms had some great designs and well-known phrases.

Beautiful "chalk" drawing of the restaurant logo.

This was my favorite bit since my favorite Pixar film is Monsters, Inc.

And this was one of the funniest things from Up.

Fin.

Hope Isn't Going to Bring Him Back

Normal routine, inconsequential activities.  I check to see if I have any new email.  And one comes in.  And I freeze.  It's an email from a friend.  A friend who died almost 4 years ago.  The email starts with a hello to me by name.  Then a link.  Then signed with his name.

I know it's spam.  Under any other circumstances, from any other name in my address book, I'd just dismiss it as spam.

But for several moments, I wonder if he's managed to send me a message.  What if I click on the link?  Maybe there's something there.  What if I dismiss it as simple spam and end up missing out on something from him?  The urge is hard to fight.  Just seeing his full name as the originator of the email.  But the rational part of me knows it's a malicious email.  Click on the link and who knows what mess I'll have gotten into.  And I manage to hit delete.

And now, I'm sitting here, shaking, feeling sick, trying not to cry.


I think about him a lot.  We had a lot of the same interests, and even with some of the stuff he was interested in that I'm not, I have lots of other friends who are, so I always see things that I would have talked to him about.  It's more rare now when some reminder serves as a trigger that brings tears seemingly out of nowhere.  I remember good times, and I might be melancholy and wistful that he's not here to share stuff with.

Just felt blindsided by this.  Waiting for the feeling to pass.

Ordinary Conversation is No Longer Ordinary

This time of year, as people start to get ready for the holidays and take some time off work, normal filler conversation leans toward "so, what are you doing for the holidays?"  And I'm finding it hard to come up with an adequate response.  Normally, I can make small talk, giving innocuous information about minor plans, the kind of answers that most people expect when they ask that question.  But, things have changed.  I don't have any real plans.  This is the first year when both of my parents are gone, and they've been the connector for some of my siblings and I to get together.  Without them, it's different.  And trying to find a new "normal" has been strange.  So, I make vague comments about "hanging out" and "taking it easy", which makes me sound evasive and secretive.  I'm normally not one to give out too much personal information anyway, except to actual friends, but holiday plans very universally involve family, so I think the lack of mentioning that throws people off.

I also recognize inappropriate things to share with people that make it awkward for everyone.  Christmas is Monday.  I'll be working on Friday, and it's likely I'll be excused from work early.  Nice, right, extra time to get a jump on Christmas, take care of last-minute shopping, get the house ready for guests, bake some nice goodies?  Nope, none of those.  I'm glad that I'll likely be dismissed early so that I'll be able to make it to a visitation without rushing or being late.

Yep, the hits keep on coming.  I promise you that I'm not making this up.  I know that at this point, it sure sounds like it.  How could so many traumatic things happen to one person in a relatively short period of time?  I've got to be lying, embellishing.  Not even counting recent events with my place of employment that have also majorly added to my stress level, one of my best friends lost her mother a couple of weeks ago.  The visitation is on Friday and the funeral is on Saturday.  That's how I'm starting my Christmas weekend, to be comforting and available to her and her family.  So, when I'm asked, "what are you doing for the holidays?", I don't respond with "going to a funeral" and instead make up an obviously vague answer.

I see Christmas all around me, and I feel almost nothing.  Things are pretty, and that might register for a second, but joy is fleeting.

The awkwardness is there with people I haven't seen / spoken to in a while as well.  People want to catch up, hey, what's been going on with you.  And I'm tired of being the downer person, bad news heaped on bad news heaped on bad news.  But when I deflect, I feel bad too, because I'm pretending that everything is ok when it's not.  Made worse when I don't feel like I'm dealing with it well, and have trouble pushing past the lethargy and feeling of just wanting to stay under the covers.

Thanksgiving 2017

In the overall scheme of things, I know that I'm blessed and very fortunate.  I have a job, I have a place to live, I have reliable transportation, I don't want for food or beverage or clothes, and I have friends.  But, sometimes, even knowing that there are millions of people who don't have the basic necessities of life, it's hard for my rational mind to let all of that sink in.  That may also be because my rational mind isn't always the one in control nowadays.

I struggle every day to get out of bed.  I struggle every day to get out of the house, to go to work.  I struggle to do what I need to do at work and otherwise.  Outwardly, I think I appear fine.  Every day, I maintain the facade that everything is ok, that I'm ok, while inside, I have to make a conscious effort to appear that way, to maintain the illusion when I'm around people, when at times, I feel like I'm just standing at the edge of an abyss.  I think the rollercoaster aspect is what throws me off.  There will be short moments, maybe a few minutes at a time, when I am fine, really fine, and there are other times when I'm at least managing ok.  But then, there are also the moments when darkness creeps back in, and I can feel myself sinking again, and it's all I can do to hold on and stay afloat.  That those dark times still return periodically throws me off guard every time I think I've made it out.

Last Thanksgiving, my dad was already gone.  My mother had gone into the hospital several days prior to Thanksgiving, and we thought she'd be released by Thanksgiving.  But it didn't happen.  So, she spent Thanksgiving in the hospital.  Since we had already planned to have Thanksgiving at our parents' house, we still did that, bringing the food we were all going to bring anyway.  We ate Thanksgiving dinner at their house, and then we packed up a little plate and went to visit our mother in the hospital.  She wasn't really able to eat any of the stuff we brought.  She was eventually released a few days later to return home.

This Thanksgiving, the husband and I are doing our own thing, and everyone else in the family is doing their own thing as well.  This is part of the process of the water finding its own level, on the way to figuring out what the new normal is now.

And the new normal includes it being more quiet in the house than it's been for the past 15 years.  I miss the mornings with Orkid, when the husband is still asleep, and Orkid comes to find me to cuddle for a while.  I'll be sitting at my computer, and I can hear her little feet tapping on the floor as she walks over to the room.  I'll look at her, and she'll meow at me, and then she'll jump up onto my chair, and then climb on me and settle down.

I'll get to spend some time with friends during the long weekend, so that will be nice.  So many things in my mind that I'd like to get done, none of which I've been able to do for months now, and I'm not sure what the chances are that I'll actually manage to do any of them this weekend.

I hope that this Thanksgiving brings you some joy, some happiness, some laughter, and if nothing else, some peace.

By a Thread



After a friend found out that I'd had to say goodbye to my cat this weekend, part of her comment was that I've had a lot to carry lately.  My response to her was that they say God doesn't give you more than you can handle, but without trying to be blasphemous, I feel like with all of the stuff God has to watch over in the world nowadays, He might have me confused with someone else as far as how much I can deal with.

When my father died last October, I don't think I really had much time to process what happened.  I spent a lot of time helping my siblings take care of our mother, and then because she was in the hospital a few times or needed other assistance, there always seemed to be some kind of crisis to deal with, so almost everything else was put on hold or could be subject to change at a moment's notice.

For those who haven't read my blog much and don't know, I'm a huge movie fan.  Oscar night is a big deal for me because I'm really interested, even in years when for whatever reason, I haven't seen many of the nominated movies.  Don't call me, don't visit, don't talk to me that night unless it's about the Oscars - I'm busy.  I do real-time commentary on Twitter during the broadcast about the awards, some of the fashion, whatever happens on the show.  This year, about 3/4 into the show, I got a text that something had happened with my mom, and I was the nearest person to her who could get to her the fastest.  There wasn't a choice.  I stopped watching and left the house, and Best Actor and Best Picture hadn't even been presented yet.  (So, yeah, I didn't actually get to watch the whole Best Picture "Midnight" / "La La Land" snafu that happened and instead read about it on Twitter later.)

It wasn't really until May / June that nothing major had happened in a while, and I think that's when stuff about my dad started to surface.  Feelings/memories/thoughts/reactions and such had come up a little previously, but for the most part, they had to be suppressed because there wasn't time or energy to think about them.  But 9 months later, they were making their presence known.  I was actually having a difficult enough time that I considered taking a leave of absence from work.  But the person who usually fills in for me when I'm on vacation was swamped herself, and after thinking about it for a while, I decided that I couldn't add to her load with having to cover for me while I was on a leave.  I determined to stick it out.

And then August rolled around, and my mother died.  And now, more feelings, more thoughts, more reactions.  Interspersed with not feeling anything when my brain shut everything down when it got too bad.  I was feeling awful.  My entire body hurt, and without getting too tmi, my insides were not processing well.  I knew that stress was a factor and decided to wait it out a bit before seeing my doctor, figuring the stress would subside some and then my doctor could tell me if I was feeling like crap because something was really wrong with me or if it was just stress-induced.

So, in late September, I had an appointment with my doctor.  When she walked in the room, she asked how I was, and I said that I'd been better.  She asked me what was going on.  I told her that the last time I'd seen her was in January (I'm supposed to see her every six months for a regular check-up and tests.), and at that point, I'd told her that my father had died several months prior.  She said yes, she remembered that.  So then I told her that my mother had died about 6 weeks ago.  She talked to me for a little while, and I told her about everything that hurt and felt wrong about my body.  And she did order the normal tests and a few more just to make sure, but she pretty much said that all of it was due to the stress of everything.  (Who knew that stress could turn your insides into knots.  Well, I didn't.  I mean, I know that stress definitely has an effect on your physical body, but I wasn't aware that it could have as many adverse reactions on you physically as I am now aware given that it's happened / happening to me.)  She also said that I was effectively experiencing depression, and she wanted me to see a therapist.  I had actually thought she might say something like that, and I agreed to go.

An appointment was set up for later that week, and the therapist I met with is a female.  She asked a whole boatload of questions about my entire life.  I kept having to remind myself that if I didn't tell her the absolute truth, there was no hope of her helping me.  I do have to admit that it was uncomfortable saying out loud to her things that I almost never discuss with anyone.  (And, admitting further that I still find it uncomfortable at times talking about certain medical things with doctors and other medical personnel that I don't know, and I have to remind myself that they've seen and heard everything, and this is their job, and there's no need to be embarrassed.  Well, this was 10 times worse because it was talking about feelings.)  By the end of the session, she did confirm that I did show signs of depression, and she did want to see me a few times but she didn't think I needed prolonged sessions, and she wanted me to go to group therapy for grief.  That last part kind of threw me for a loop.  Talk about my feelings to total strangers, especially feelings that I don't think are what most people expect to hear in this situation.  Hesitant and a little scared but willing to try, so I said ok.  As it turns out, the group therapy is on a cycle of sessions, so I have to wait for the next cycle to start.

And then the week after this, I had the meltdown I detailed in a prior post.  The therapist and I had talked about the option of medication to treat my depression.  I'm not against the idea but after talking through some of my questions, I decided to hold off for now, with the possibility of re-visiting in the future.  After the meltdown, I seriously thought about the medication again, but I also realized that it can be a long process in trying to figure out which meds might work for me and in what dosage, and I'm not sure I can handle the uncertainty and testing right now.

Since the meltdown, things haven't been as bad.  I don't feel awful all the time, I was actually getting some sleep, but I still didn't feel like doing much.

And then, Orkid got sick.  As I mentioned in my last post, she'd been dealing with the kidney issue for some time and it had been ok, but her downward spiral only really started about a week or so ago, and then really crashed on Thursday and Friday last week.

It just seems like in the past year, every time I think I've dug myself a bit out of a hole, more dirt gets thrown back on me.  I've sat at work today at my desk periodically crying, partly because I do miss Orkid (it was very quiet in the house last night, with no tap-tap-tap to clue me in that she was walking over to visit with me) and just being overwhelmed again with everything, so many things I haven't worked out and figured out.  I could really use some time off, but the person who normally covers for me is currently unavailable so I really can't take any time.  If I'm not here, there's literally no one to do my job right now, so it's better to have me crying at my desk in between working, struggling through, than to have no one here at all.

And on top of that, when I was told that group therapy wouldn't start for a little while, they said if I hadn't heard from them in a few weeks, I should call.  I should be calling now.  But I haven't, because that would also require me to leave the office in the mid-afternoon once a week to get to the meeting, and again, with my co-worker not being available, I'm struggling with essentially abandoning my job to go.  One of my friends is encouraging me to call about the meeting, and she likened it to putting on my own oxygen mask first before trying to help others.  I understand the sentiment, but right now, I'm feeling more like I'm the pilot of a plane, and the co-pilot is unconscious, so if I step away, there will be no one able to fly the plane.

It sounds crazy to think that with everything that's been going on for the past 13 months, losing my cat is what has the potential to send me over the edge.  I'm fighting it, but it's really difficult.  I feel like my reserves are all depleted, and the fumes are even dissipating, so I can't even rely on coasting with those.  I think the tears are the only release I have right now to continue on to the next minute, the next hour, the next day.

It's Been a Hell of a Year

Sometimes, I don't know what day it is.  Heck, sometimes, I don't know what year it is.  So much has happened in the past year, well, really, 13 months, that it's hard to keep things straight sometimes.

It started in September of 2016.  In mid-September, we were given notice our dad had likely at most 2 months to live.  It ended up being about 6 weeks, mostly involving in-home hospice care, and he died in October.  The one-year anniversary is coming up this Wednesday.

After having been in the hospital a few times for various reasons since November 2016, our mother died in August of this year.  Even though doctors were still talking about tests and possible treatment, given what was happening, I had figured out about a week beforehand that there was really only going to be one outcome.

About a month ago, a friend of a friend died from a rare and aggressive form of cancer.  I'd only met him twice in the past year but had enjoyed my time with him when he'd visited with our mutual friend.  I'd hoped to see him a third time and was sad when it turned out that wasn't going to happen.

Last week, a friend's father died very suddenly and unexpectedly.  I'd never met him, but my friend had talked about him a lot, so I knew some things about him.

Of course, the last two things aren't directly related to me, but because of the situations, their deaths did have an effect on me.

And then yesterday morning, we had to put our cat down.  She had a kidney condition that we'd been managing for some time, but eventually, it was more than she could deal with.  She was to the point where she wouldn't eat or even drink water and could barely move, all of this happening in a period of a day or two, so we made the decision to let her go.

And being a student of pop psychology, one of the things I've noticed that's come out of all this is that there have been several times over the past 13 months when a switch has been flipped, when I've just tuned out to the point where I don't feel anything.  It's a really interesting sensation when it's something you've read about, and then you realize that it's happening to you right then and there.  There have been a few times when the pain, the hurt, the situations have just been so overwhelming that as a defense mechanism, my mind and my feelings just turn off because it can't handle it.  Sometimes it lasts for a few hours, sometimes it lasts for a few days.

There's so much there to process in each situation, much less having all of them happen in a relatively short period of time.  And this doesn't even take into account the normal stresses and anxiety and such associated with work and life's other happenings.

The weird thing is that I'm not entirely sure I understand what exactly death means.  I can't define it for myself.  It happened more than a year ago, in fact, it happened about 3 years ago, but one of my best friends died in August 2014, and to this day, it's like my mind thinks that he's on a business trip, and he's just too busy to talk to me right now.  That's happened before, when we wouldn't get a chance to talk for a while.  Granted, it never lasted 3 years, but it seems to be how my brain makes it ok that I don't see or hear from him.  And I think I've taken that approach to my dad and my mom as well, that they're on vacation, so that's why I haven't seen or talked to them.  Again, that's happened before, though not for this long a period of time, but at least it's a situation that makes sense to me.  I guess the mind does whatever it needs to when you need it.

There are charts that give stress points for various events that happen in your life.  I think it's pretty safe to say that my stress points are probably off the charts at the moment, so it's probably not a surprise that I'm not handling it entirely well.  More on that later.

It's Not About the Ketchup

Do you ever have that moment when you're having french fries at home, and you go to get the ketchup, and when you realize you're all out, you just burst into tears and have a complete meltdown?

Yeah, it's not about the ketchup.

It's just the last straw, THE thing that pushes you over the edge.

You might have big things to deal with.  You might have little things to deal with.  One or two of them at a time, you can handle.  Even 5 or 10 little things, you can handle.  But at some point, you can't take any more, and the littlest thing is what sets you off, to the point where anyone in the vicinity looks at you like you're a crazy person because you've just completely over-reacted to something that doesn't warrant that level of distress.

I had one of those moments today.

Tuesday started off not great with a doctor's appointment (details will be in a future blog post), but then I spent several hours in the afternoon chatting with a friend I haven't seen in a very long time, and then I spent the evening having dinner with the husband and some friends, including one friend who I haven't seen in a while.  All in all, it was a good day for spending time with friends, and it really did a lot to boost my spirits.  Driving home late in the evening, I knew I felt better than I had in a while.

Wednesday, some of the glow had worn off, but not all of it.  I'd even started to think about maybe hanging out with friends for part of the weekend.  By Thursday morning, though, the dark cloud was back.  The voice in my head that said, you don't really want to go to work today, do you?  Don't you just want to stay home?  You haven't been getting much work done anyway, so what's the point in going?  Besides, they won't miss you at work if you're not there.  So I had to fight past that voice to actually leave the house and go to work, and then fight not wanting to actually do anything once I got to work.

And then I got a call in the late afternoon from my doctor's office, and the nurse wanted to go through my test results.  Usually, they just send me the results.  I don't recall them calling me before.  And, as I suspected, both my cholesterol numbers and my A1C (to test for diabetes) were high, though my A1C wasn't actually as high as I had expected.  I've been indulging in a whole lot of comfort eating in the past couple months with everything that's been going on, and I haven't exercised in about 3 months, so yeah, I figured my results wouldn't be great.  The nurse kept giving me a hard time about the cholesterol, and asking me repeatedly if I'd been taking the medication I've already been on for a while.  Yes, I've been taking my meds.  No, I didn't take a break from my meds.  Yes, my numbers are that high even though I'm already on meds.  After then proceeding to the sugars results and then telling me what I should be eating instead, I finally told her that I knew exactly why both results were as bad as they were, and I had expected it.  I told her what had happened to my parents in the last year, and that it wasn't an excuse, but yeah, I've been eating bad things because I'm just trying to get through everything, and I haven't been focused on what I've been eating.  She apologized and said she understood, and we talked about a couple more things before we concluded the call.

And I spent about 20 minutes feeling worse and worse, to the point where I started to cry.  Luckily, I have an office at work, so I got up and shut the door so I could cry in private.  The results were what I thought they'd be.  Having the nurse get on me wasn't that bad, and she backed off once I explained what had been going on.  But I guess that was the tipping point, because I cried in my office for a while.  And I went through a round of "What the hell does it matter what I'm eating?  Why can't I just eat what I want?  Why does any of this matter?  All the stuff that would make me feel better are things that are going to make my numbers worse, so I guess I'm just supposed to deal with everything on my own?  Fine, I'll just sit at home by myself and I won't talk to anyone and I won't do nothing.  And I won't eat anything, that'll help my numbers, right?"

Yeah, meltdown.  At least it wasn't with an audience.  After a while, my sanity returned, and I stopped crying, so I opened my door again.  And then realized a few minutes later that I apparently wasn't quite done, so I had to close the door again for another round of crying since I didn't want to risk having someone walk in on me.  Finally, I'd stopped crying for a little while, and I felt like it was done, so I opened the door again, and I even managed to get some work done after that.  Not a lot, but some.

Not having ketchup for your fries really sucks.

Sleep Doesn't Come Easy

Last week, I had a dream about my mother.

We were at the old house, the old house being the house my family lived in from the time that I was about 4 or 5 until I was about 17.  It's the most common recurring location of my dreams, probably because it's where I grew up.

The house has an attached garage, connected by an adjoining door right after you enter the front door.  We never parked the cars in the garage, but rather, it was a spare bedroom, storage space, utility area.  For some reason, I'd gone in there to look for my mother but was surprised when I didn't find her.

After a little while, I noticed that she was laying in bed, facing away from me.  That seemed odd because I never knew my mother to nap much, unless she wasn't feeling well.  I remember wondering if she was sick and was about to ask if she was ok, and for her to tell me if anything was wrong so we could take her to be examined.  And then I realized, I didn't need to tell her that anymore.

I heard my mother's voice in my head (in Cantonese), "I've been gone for a lifetime, and she still doesn't know it."



Well, it hasn't been a lifetime.  My mother died just over a month ago.  And my father died in October 2016.  So, the last 12 months have left me with quite a bit to deal with.

There are moments when things feel ok, when I feel normal.  The moments come and go, and they don't generally last very long unless I've got something to focus on and I'm actually able to focus.  During the day, I have things to do, things to pay attention to, work, distractions.

The nights are difficult.  There's less going on.  Distractions fade away.  Things are quiet.  People are sleeping, resting.  Except me.  There's just me and a whirlwind of conflicted thoughts.

I've never really been very good at sleeping, even as a child.  It never occurred to me that I could ever actually have MORE trouble sleeping.  That's how it's been for the past month.  I'm awake well into the early hours of the morning, pretty much until my body is exhausted and can be awake no more.  I sleep for a little while, but then it's time to get up and go to work.  And then I spend the day very tired.  So you'd think I'd be able to sleep that next night, right?  Nope.  I'm tired and sleepy all day, but when I get home from work, even if I think I'm tired enough to go to bed early, as soon as I think about going to bed, the brain starts firing again and won't let me sleep.  Lather, rinse, repeat.  On weekends, if I don't have to be up at a certain time, I still can't sleep in.  As soon as my body is no longer exhausted, my brain wakes me up, even though I'm still tired and sleepy.

The irony of having even more difficulty sleeping now than I usually do is that when my mother would hear about my insomnia, she would tell me that I was thinking about too many things, and that was why I couldn't sleep.  She'd tell me to stop thinking about so much.

I haven't yet figured out how to quiet my brain enough to let my body rest.  I figured I'd try writing again, to see if that would help.



If you've been reading this entry, you probably got here from a link I posted.  That will be the only time I link to these sorts of posts.  I figure if you want to read more about this subject, if I manage to write any more about it, you now already know how to find your way here.