my year of new things

new blog post coming soon

2011-04-14T10:52:00.000-07:00

Is this thing still on? Anyone still out there?

For those who were following updates on my friend Uma back when I used to post on this blog --(links in the sidebar) -- I'm going to be posting a new update either today or tomorrow. She has been going through some more health issues and we're trying to raise some more money to help her. But I'm not even sure if anyone will see anything here anymore....leave a comment if you're out there, my lovely former blog readers.

Raising money for Uma...

2009-10-28T09:41:00.000-07:00

It's been awhile since I've sent out an Uma update. She's doing well, but she's had a rough few weeks, and I thought it would be nice to counteract that roughness with some love and help flowing her way, so I'm raising money to cover some therapy bills. For those of you who don’t know Uma & John’s story, here’s a brief timeline to fill you in on some significant moments:

January 31st, 2007: while she was in New York visiting her fiancé John, a musician who was in NYC on tour, Uma suffered a ruptured brain aneurysm. She was only 27-years-old. Uma was in a coma for several weeks, during which time she had a stroke. Her doctors told us she would probably die (they gave her a “20 percent chance of living” on two separate occasions). But Uma’s a fighter. She woke up from the coma with aphasia (she was unable to speak, read, or write) and with restricted movement on the right side of her body.

March 12, 2007: Thanks to the incredible generosity of friends and family and strangers, we were able to rent an air ambulance to fly Uma out to an in-patient therapy center in California, where she started learning how to walk and talk again, with the help of John, who’s always been by her side.

July 14, 2008: Uma and John got married! It was a beautiful ceremony. A day we’d all been looking forward to with so much hope.

2009: Uma continues to fight to regain her speech and movement on the right side of her body. She does several hours of speech and physical therapy every day. It’s basically her full-time job. She recently applied to be a volunteer at Cedars Sinai, where she will work with other aphasia patients to help them in their recovery.

October 16, 2009: Uma was taken to the emergency room with an incredibly painful headache. There was a lot of fear that she might have been suffering from a re-bleed of her aneurysm, but after undergoing dozens of tests (MRI, catscans, angiogram, spinal tap, etc), her doctors have ruled out all of the scary stuff and it looks like it’s “just” a migraine. As great a relief as that is, she’s still been in the hospital for two weeks now, in a state of constant pain. John has been at her side the whole time. After almost three years of speech therapy, Uma continues to improve. Studies have shown that aphasia patients plateau when they run out of motivation and/or money for therapy. The motivation thing isn’t a problem for Uma. Like I said before, she’s a fighter. But they could always use more money for therapy, and after these last two stressful weeks in the hospital, it would be so nice to ease some of their financial stress. John and Uma aren’t the type of people to ask for help, but when Silvie suggested setting up a website to collect donations for them, I thought it would be nice to ask for them. All of their friends and family have already been so generous in the past, and everyone’s struggling financially right now, so please don’t feel any obligation if it’s not a good time. But even the smallest donations add up quickly, and you would be providing them with such great relief. Thank you!

To make a donation, go here: http://tiny.cc/kaQfG

(TO READ PREVIOUS UMA UPDATES, CLICK ON THE "UMA" BUTTON SOMEWHERE ON RIGHT SIDE OF THIS PAGE.)

last blog post

2007-11-07T09:27:00.000-08:00

I realize I haven't blogged in seven thousand years and I don't even check my statcounter anymore (because I haven't been blogging, so why bother) so I have no idea if anyone ever still comes by these here parts, but I figured I should officially announce that the My Year of New Things blog is dead. I'm not going to post anything new here. It was a fun ride, and it's way over. At least in this incarnation. I might start up a new blog, but if I do, I need to find a new hook. My literal "year" of new things ended nine months ago. This is a dead horse. I'm gonna stop kicking it.

In other news, do what you can to support the WGA. If you're not in the WGA but still sympathetic to our cause (especially if you're in SAG, because we're fighting for you too), come on out to the picket line and march with us! It's kind of exhausting, really, but it can be invigorating too--to feel like you're a part of something bigger than yourself--and the more people who are there, the more it feels like we're making an impact. (And no one wants this strike to last long, so the more impact we make up front, the better the chances of this thing ending sooner.) I'll be posting photos from the line on my flickr account, here:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/theumafund/

Also, I'm posting an email below from my friend Sian Heder. You should seriously check out her film. It's a wonderful piece of work and I'm proud to be good friends with someone so talented. Support short films on itunes! Okay, I'll let Sian speak for herself:

"Hello all,

"Just a note to let you know that my short film, MOTHER, is now available for download on iTunes! It's only two bucks...actually $1.99...which is a pretty damn good deal. What else can you buy for 2 bucks? A sponge. Some paper towels. Two packs of gum. Maybe an 8 oz Tecate in a dive bar? (Not including tip.)

"If you haven't seen it, now is your chance! If you have, watch it again! Short films are fairly new to iTunes, so the more support we have, the greater the likelihood of iTunes supporting filmmakers in the future. Dooo it...dooo it...Here is the link:

http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewMovie?id=267267840&s=143441

"Enjoy! And please pass this along to anyone else you think might enjoy the film! Our festival run is coming to a close and it would be great if this little movie could continue to have a life online...

"Thanks and my love to you all,
Sian"

Sian Heder
Writer/Director – MOTHER
www.motherthemovie.com

*

That's all.
Over and out.
It's been real.
And in the immortal words of Angela Chase:
We had a time.

Rock on,
Erik

Blessing Andrea Stern

2007-09-28T07:39:00.000-07:00

Obviously I haven't posted in, like, 500 years. I've been thinking lately that the blog break might be for good. Or sometimes I think that I need to dump "my year of new things" and start fresh with a new blog. I dunno. I've been super busy, which is great, but the blog suffers. Anyway. That's not why I'm posting. I'm posting to send you AWAY from my blog, to my friend Andrea Stern's blog. Andrea was recently diagonosed with AVM (it's the brain thing that Nate had on Six Feet Under) (what the fuck is up with brains lately?) and if you're reading this, please take a moment to send her some good thoughts, good vibes, love, all of that jazz. If I've learned anything from the last year, it's that positivity and prayers fucking work like a mofo. Andrea's doing really well, and she's scheduled for surgery soon, which is obviously scary, but it needs to be done. So if you've come here to read my blog again and you're like, dammit, Erik hasn't posted anything new, then go over to Andrea's blog instead, because I'm sure Andrea (and her close friends who are helping with the blog) will be updating regularly, and you'll find stuff to read there.

Much love to you, Andrea!

Catherine the Cat

2007-09-12T14:14:00.000-07:00

So I got a cat yesterday and I named her Catherine. I didn't even realize that the word "cat" was in her name until after I named her--she got her name because when I first saw her at the rescue shelter, she was sitting on a newspaper advertisement for the movie "No Reservations" starring Catherine Zeta-Jones. I realize it's phenomenally gay to name your cat after Catherine Zeta-Jones, which is another reason why I enjoy the name. Also, I'm not particularly a fan of Catherine Zeta-Jones (I'm not NOT a fan, I'm more indifferent), and I think it's kind of funny to name a cat after an actress that I have absolutely no attachment to whatsoever. I assumed that I'd be calling Catherine "Cat" for short, but then yesterday I discovered myself calling her "Cathy," which I enjoy as a cat name more than all of the other above-mentioned names combined. So I'd like to introduce you to Cathy.

This is her, y'all:

In non-cat news, Eleanor got me hooked on the amazing dating reality program Rock With Love. If you’re watching (and if you aren’t, what’s wrong with you?), I’m rooting for Heather to win Bret’s heart. (Though it would be pretty fantastic reality television to watch her go home after having tattoo’d Bret’s name to her neck.) Jess is actually my favorite girl, but I think she’s too good for Bret and so I want her to get second place and then go on to bigger and better things.

In other non-cat news, my friend Andrea hosts an essay-reading night in Miami, and she just posted a video of her latest essay on youtube, and it’s pretty brilliant. I love Andrea, you should too. Check her out:

Matt & His Feats of Strength

2007-09-06T01:57:00.000-07:00

My brother Matt is totally going to be the next YouTube sensation with his series of videos in which he performs moderately difficult feats of strength. I once sat next to LonelyGirl15 at a thai restaurant, so I have my finger on the pulse of these kinds of things.

All of my poop lately...

2007-09-05T21:57:00.000-07:00

...is totally soft serve. What's up with that?

3 of 30

2007-09-03T22:10:00.001-07:00

i don't know why i let jesse sucker me into blogging again. it's too hot to blog. i spent the morning in my underwear sitting in front of a fan, and then uma and i went to see The Nanny Diaries (which was pretty terrible, but thank god for the air conditioning), then we went over to my brothers' house to welcome my oldest-younger brother Josh back from Burning Man and look at his photos (he had an amazing time, but I don't think I could handle Burning Man for a week--maybe a weekend, but not a whole week) (i need a real bed), and now I'm back at my apartment sitting in my underwear in front of the fan again.

2nd post of september

2007-09-03T04:43:00.000-07:00

Jesse, I know you're thinking that I've already failed the whole "one-post-a-day-for-every-day-in-September" thing, but I haven't gone to bed yet so it's technically still Sunday in my head and this counts as my September 2nd post. The story of why I'm just getting home at 4:44 a.m. is so completely not debaucherous, but omitting all details at least gives it the air of debauchery, so I'm gonna leave this post at that and go to sleep already.

A whole bunch of random quotidian facts

2007-09-01T23:34:00.000-07:00

1. Oh, dear dear abused and ignored blog.

2. I’m sorry you haven’t been getting any love from me.

3. Seriously.

4. I’m all jacked up on Starbucks hot chocolate right now, so I thought I’d check in.

5. Even though I’ve been thinking maybe you were dead, dear blog.

6. But then I was talking to Jesse and he was like “let’s vow to write one blog entry every day for the entire month of September.

7. And I was like “no fucking way, the blog is dead.”

8. But then I started drinking all of this fucking aforementioned Starbucks hot chocolate and now it sounds like a good idea.

9. So, like, here I am.

10. I made these two new friends, Corey and Trixze, and I totally have a crush on them.

11. Not an inappropriate crush.

12. A friend crush.

13. It’s just, when you meet someone at a party and you’re like “oh my god we have to hang out” and then you actually do it—it’s a nice thing, when that happens.

14. So my two new friends Corey and Trixze invited me over to their home last Sunday to watch all 22 chapters of the “Trapped in the Closet” saga…

15. …which was amazing.

16. I don’t want to ruin any of Trapped’s myriad surprises if you haven’t seen it yet, so I don’t think I’ll say anything else about it.

17. Which is difficult because I haven’t blogged in so long and all I want to write about is how fucking surreal and weird and wonderful the new chapters are.

18. If you’ve already seen the new chapters, we need to talk about Pimp Lucius and “the package.”

19. I mean, seriously.

20. R. Kelly is stirring shit up.

21. SPOILER ALERT: I think everyone might die in Chapter 23 and then maybe R will continue his saga with an entire new set of characters. How radical would that be? Not that I don’t love all of the current characters, I’m just saying that I hope Kelly continues to shake shit up. Because just when you think he’s only knows one melody (after you’ve heard it five hundred times), he throws in a gospel choir; and just when you think he only knows one way to twist a plot (they’re sleeping together!), he throws in a completely random dream sequence; and just when you think no one else could possibly get trapped in a closet, someone else gets trapped in a closet—and it’s a flashback to boot! Genius.

22. My mustache TOTALLY smells like hot chocolate right now.

23. True story.

24. That’s the thing—and if you don’t have a mustache, maybe you’ve never even thought about this occupational hazard of being a Person With A Mustache—but the thing is, if you don’t wash your ‘stache frequently, stuff gets in there.

25. My friend Fefe was telling me about this massage place she went to where they throw buckets of water on your back in the middle of the massage. At least, I think she told me about a massage place she went to where they throw buckets of water on your back in the middle of the massage, but everyone I’ve mentioned this to has told me it sounds insane and unlike any massage place they’ve ever heard of. And so then I started to wonder if I made it up in my head. And so now I’ve convinced myself that maybe it isn’t true. But the problem is that I had started to think that it sounded like it might be, as Angela Chase would say, “a time.” And I was gonna call Fefe and ask her where to go to get this so-called bucket-drenching massage. But now I guess I should just call her and ask her if I’m insane and I made it all up.

26. Stay tuned.

27. Angela Kang (who just finished her first week of grad school!) (raise the roof for Angela) recently introduced me to Guitar Hero, and if I didn’t have so many other things to keep me busy I think I might move into Angela’s living room and just play Guitar Hero 24/7.

28. I rock, but only on the “easy” level.

29. My brothers have Guitar Hero too and I went over to their house to get in a few more guitar licks and I tried the “medium” level and I sucked ass at it.

30. Total ass suckage.

31. Seriously.

32. So for now I’m sticking with “easy.”

33. It only requires three fingers.

34. Do phone numbers have an expiration date? Like, when you meet someone at a bar and you get their phone number, how long is too long to wait to call said person who’s phone number you got? I ask because I got this guy’s phone number at Akbar about a month ago and I haven’t called him yet. Is it too late?

35. Sure, I realize it’s never too late, unless he’s gotten married or died in the last month.

36. That’s a terrible thought, the “died in the last month” one.

37. Maybe he won’t remember who I am, and then we’ll be able to tell people “I waited a month to call him and he didn’t remember who I was and now look at us.”

38. But is it intrinsically weird to wait a month?

39. Not that I really care if it’s weird.

40. I’m just asking.

41. Speaking of waiting too long, I wonder if anyone will ever even read this blog post, or if it’s been so long since I last posted that no one reads anymore because you all got so tired of checking the blog and reading the same damned post about how I was “Too. Busy. To. Blog.”

42. And every time you read that, you were like, “whatever asshole.”

43. Sorry about that.

44. And that last “The Walker Identity” post was a sorry excuse for a post, i.e. not really a post at all.

45. And I’m sorry about that too.

46. Oh my god I’m listening to Ani Difranco on my ipod right now and she’s totally my new music crush. I’ve always loved people who love Ani Difranco, but I’ve never really listened to Ani myself, so I never knew what all the fuss was about, and now I can’t get enough about her and I’m all, holy crap THIS is what all the fuss was about.

47. Current favorite Ani song: “Imperfectly”

48. My current second favorite Ani song: “Untouchable Face”

49. I wasn’t intending to be transitional and all segue-ish here, but speaking of “face,” I got dragged onto Facebook this week and I hate it, but I’m already obsessed with it.

50. I need more hot chocolate.

51. BRB.

52. Okay, back.

53. Theatre of NOTE is producing my play “He Asked For It” in April, so mark yer calendars.

54. I’m excited.

55. It’s been way too freaking long since I’ve had a play in production.

56. I miss being in a rehearsal room, figuring it all out.

57. Okay, stop reading right now if you’ve ever walked barefoot in my kitchen because I have to tell you the most disgusting story.

58. It’s so completely gross and it makes me want to throw up, so I figure it’s perfect fodder for the blog. I’m getting all situated in my new apartment, right? Moving in, spreading out, making the place my own. Loving my space. Even though it’s really hot. Like, abnormally hot, unless you have the fans running in every room at all times. That kinda hot. I mention the heat because it’s important and I totally BLAME the heat for what happened next. I don’t eat at home very much because I don’t really cook. And I had thrown away some meat in the kitchen trash can, but it was at the bottom of the trash, and then it took a week for the trash can to fill up, and I forgot about the meat at the bottom of the trash can, and I forgot about the heat, and these are all things that I should have been really aware of. Because, like, you shouldn’t let trash stay in your trash can that long, especially if that trash includes meat and you’re dealing with sweltering August heat. You just shouldn’t let the trash sit that long. I KNOW THAT NOW. So, like, the trash was finally full and I pulled the bag out of the can and then I felt these little things falling onto my bare feet. Little wet squishy things. And then I looked down at my feet, at the ground, and I saw, with horror, that fucking maggots were freaking raining down from the bottom of my trash bag. And that’s when I started screaming. I’m not embarrassed to admit that I started screaming. It was the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life, give or take the time I threw up bad milk and the throw up somehow managed to hit the kitchen ceiling. So at this point I’m still freaking out about the maggots on my kitchen floor and ON TOP OF MY BARE FEET and then I looked inside the trash can and my horror multiplied. The bottom of my trash bin was, like, straight out of Suspiria—that’s how many maggots there were. Like, YOU COULD NOT SEE THE BOTTOM OF THE BIN because there were so many maggots swimming all over each other. And those buggers are fucking fast movers, slithering all over the kitchen floor. So I dumped the maggot-leaking trash bag back into the bin and then I grabbed the only artillery I had in my kitchen—a can of Pledge—and I fucking Pledged those maggots to fucking death. And I was still screaming, but I started channeling my inner Linda-Hamilton-in-Terminator-2, so instead of screaming in disgust, now I was screaming AT the little assholes: “Die you little fuckers, die!” It was intense. And then there were all of these dead maggots everywhere, covered in Pledge. (So, like, shiny as all get out.) All of these dead little white things all over my beautiful wood floor. It was a total massacre of the maggot kind. So then I wiped up all of the dead little maggot bodies and I threw them into the trash can with all of the still living maggots that I’m trying not to think about, and then I lifted the entire trash bin into a huge, hefty Glad trash bag and tied up the bag and then I brought the entire thing down to the dumpster around the corner and threw them away, trash can and all.

59. It was so gross.

60. Like, the story above only scratches the surface of how gross I felt.

61. Maggots are the enemy.

62. And I throw my trash out EVERY SINGLE DAY now.

The Walker Identity

2007-08-27T15:05:00.000-07:00

Okay, I'm still too busy to blog, but I just had to say one thing:

There's an episode of "Walker, Texas Ranger" on USA right now and Walker has amnesia and I swear the plot is eerily similar to that of The Bourne Identity. And despite the fact that I have time to watch "Walker, Texas Ranger," I'm technically taking a lunch break and Chuck Norris is part of that.

That's all.

2007-08-14T14:44:00.001-07:00

Too. Busy. To. Blog.

Sorry!

The Sum of All Years: 30

2007-08-08T01:06:00.000-07:00

Bonnie posts yearly life updates called The Sum of All Years on her blog on her birthday every year, and ever since I first read through all of the sums of all of her years I've wanted to do my own. I figure 30's a good year to start. (It is a pretty cool fucking birthday, after all.)

What is The Sum Of All Years? I'll let Bonnie explain: "The Sum Of All Years is an autobiography where the word count for each post is limited to the corresponding age for that entry." Pretty simple, pretty cool.

So here's my first entry...

*

The Sum of All Years: 30

Family craziness. I feel like a “man.”
Uma’s brain explodes, but we make miracles happen: healing, speech, love.
Professional screenwriter, breakdown goes out on my birthday.
New home, new hope(s).

*

One of these days I'll get around to writing entries for the 29 years that are currently sumless, but for now I'm just gonna say a toast to the end of my twenties and say hello to a decade I'm really looking forward to. Salut!

Heinz Ketchup

2007-08-06T21:29:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, I posted a high school diary entry where I talked about seeing my eight-year-old brother Josh performing a scene and a song for some class and I pontificated on Josh's future as an actor. (If you don't recall my particularly mortifying pontifications--and I use the word "pontificate" twice because there really ain't no other word for the kind of diary writing I was doing--I pondered: "Is this a beginning? As much as I hope it is, pity he who goes into acting for a living, for I know there isn’t much out there to make a living off of in ratio to the number of actors out there.")

Well, fourteen years down the pike, my brother Josh is now twenty-two and he's not an actor--no, he's pursuing a career that's probably even more difficult to break in to: he's currently going to film school to become a director. And I don't think I'm being biased when I say he's pretty damned good at it. I just think he's just pretty damned good at it.

He has a short little film on youtube right now, a commercial for Heinz Ketchup--Heinz is holding a contest for the best 30-second commercial, and they're giving the winner 57 thou. They have a committee of judges who are narrowing the videos down to 15, then a popular vote chooses the winner. I imagine that the number of times a commercial has been viewed on youtube might affect the judges selections--you never know--so I want to spread the word and get my brother's commercial gets more "views." So if you have 30 seconds (I mean, hello: it's only 30 seconds), please check out my bro's video. It's below. Just click on the "play" triangle.

Today is...

2007-08-06T10:22:00.000-07:00

...the second to last day of my twenties!

Check out my brilliant friends!

2007-08-03T09:56:00.000-07:00

I'll be at both of these shows/parties, and you should be at both of them too:

(1) Friday night, August 3rd, (that's TONIGHT!):

Christy and the Nonos
will be bringing a whole lotta music-love to the people live on stage
at the Bootleg Theater
(the space formerly known as the Evidence Room)
for one night only

The band will be performing all of the songs from their new album, The Runner.
Chris Wells, Fred Cassidy, Laural Meade, John Ballinger,
Patrice Quinn, Polly Segal, and Darrin Embry
will be making all the love happen for you. TONIGHT, Aug 3rd!

Doors open at 8:30, show at 9:00pm
The Bootleg Theater
2220 Beverly Blvd., LA, 90057
$15 at the door
213-389-3856
reservations are recommended but not required

and

(2) Saturday afternoon/evening, TOMORROW, Aug 4th!:

at 6011 Fair Ave, North Hollywood 91606

RACHEL KANN'S BOOK RELEASE PARTY FOR "10 FOR EVERYTHING"!!!
4PM Cookout - Bring Something to Eat
5PM Open Jam - Bring Something to Play
6PM Plugged in Music Starts Outside... - Bring Something to Something- and blankets, chairs, whatever makes you comfortable on the grass.
Rob Thain
co-lab-oTASTIC Ben Thomas
BOLT www.breathoflifetribe.com
Rock Yoga with Jen Swain!!!

9PM Rachel Kann and friends
Special Guests:
AIMEE BENDER!! The Girl in the Flammable Skirt (NY Times Notable Book)

Guy Hoffman of the violent femmes!!!

Gayle Brandeis, winner of the Belleweather Prize for Social Change for The Book of Dead Birds

Tod Goldberg, winner of the OV Short Story Collection Prize for Simplify

11:30PM Unplugged Music Starts Inside...
Mike Weiss
Eric Bloom

*

p.s. LET ME KNOW IF YOU'RE COMING TO EITHER EVENT SO I CAN LOOK OUT FOR YOU!

Michael Cera won’t leave me alone, and (spoiler) Superbad is Fuckinggood

2007-08-01T02:24:00.000-07:00

Okay, this blog post was supposed to be about how so fucking good Superbad is. When Eleanor and I walked out of the sneak preview screening we saw tonight, that was the first thing I said to her: “I can’t wait to blog about how amazingly funny that fucking movie was.” I think that’s an exact quote. We weren’t planning on seeing Superbad. It just kinda happened. I was stranded in Burbank earlier this afternoon (that’s a long story and it’s totally boring so I’m not even going to go into it) and so I called Eleanor and begged her to pick me up and drive me home, but of course I wanted to give Eleanor a carrot so I told her I’d take her to see The Simpsons. So we went to the Burbank AMC 16 for a 5:45 showing and as we were running up to the theater (at 5:52), we noticed people lined up for the aforementioned screening of Superbad. We didn’t give it much thought because we were late for the Simpsons movie and I can’t stand to miss the beginning of a movie. (Eleanor was like, “it’s okay if we’re late,” and I told her I was okay with it too, but I was lying, and I think she knew I was lying, but she didn’t say anything about it.)

Um, I’m sitting at the Bourgeois Pig coffee shop right now and I totally have to poop so bad that it’s hard for me to concentrate on writing this blog post, but the barista is really cute and I was flirting with him and when I tried to go poop a few minutes ago, the poop wasn’t coming out as easily as I would have liked, and I didn’t want to be in the bathroom long enough for the barista to know I was pooping because that’s not exactly the first image I want him to have of me in his head, so I gave up on the poop and came back out here to write this, and I’m kinda pissed at my bowels.

Anyway. So we got into the Simpsons movie just as it was beginning, we weren’t late at all, and everyone keeps telling me that it’s like a really long, good episode of the TV show, but I have to admit that I only agree with the “really long” part and not the “good” part. I would say it was about fifty percent good. Which isn’t enough. Sure, the fifty percent that was good was hella good and all, but I need some more bang for my fucking buck. Especially where the Simpsons are concerned. I would say every fifth or sixth joke landed, and I wanted more.

So then we walked out of the theater and the line for the preview screening of Superbad was just being let in and the first person I saw was my cousin Matt. Who I didn’t recognize. Not because he looked any different than he ever looks—but don’t you ever get that thing where you’ll see someone who you know really incredibly well but you’re seeing them out of context and unexpectedly and your brain won’t compute? That’s what happened. Like, the first thought I had when I saw Matt was: “why is that guy waving at me?” And then, oh, say six-and-a-half seconds later, my brain was like: “um, because he’s your favorite cousin, asshole.” (Apologies to all of my other cousins.) Yeah, okay, so we talk to Matt and we’re all jealous that he’s about to see the preview screening of Superbad, but he’s nervous because the movie’s rated “R” and he’s not seventeen yet, so he’s not sure if he’s going to be able to get in. He tells us that he’ll give us his tickets if they turn him away at the door. So we’re like: “awesome, okay.” And I’m sorry Matt, but for a second I was hoping that they were going to check your I.D. because I knew that Superbad was going to be better than The Simpsons and we really wanted to see a good movie after being so disappointed in the Simpsons. And then I felt guilty for hoping my cousin wouldn’t get in to the screening, and now I’m glad that he DID get in to the screening because it was SO superbad of him to get in and be underage and all.

Oh my god, I’m going on and on about so many things that aren’t even important and I haven’t even gotten to the part where we met Michael Cera. Okay, so: flash forward. We got into the movie and the movie fucking rocks and we were laughing so hard we almost broke our faces. Seriously. So hard that sound stopped coming out of our mouths. I don’t even want to say anything else about the movie because it’s too good to spoil even the tiniest jokes. I have a feeling that Superbad’s gonna become my new Wet Hot American Summer, (which is to say I’m going to see it a dozen times this summer). Go see this movie. (Grandma, you might want to skip it.) (Or go see it, just be prepared for a lot of penis jokes.) (Which I’m sure you’ll enjoy.) (Because who doesn’t enjoy penis jokes.) (I can’t believe I’m talking to my grandmother about penis jokes on my blog right now.) (Because the thing is, my grandmother actually DOES read my blog.) (Hi grandma.)

So after the movie, Eleanor and I were famished because we had been planning on getting dinner after The Simpons, but then we were hijacked by the whole Superbad screening, and we weren’t even able to get popcorn because they ushered us into the theater too fast, and so then we headed over to Birds for some eats. And of course we’re going on and on about how much we loved the movie, and we’re walking down the street towards the restaurant, and I see a few people standing in a group up ahead and immediately notice that one of them is Michael Cera. And I whisper to Eleanor, “stop talking about the movie, it’s Michael Cera.” And then she sees him too and we walk by him and we’re totally freaking out. Not because he’s a celebrity or anything—I see “famous” people in Los Angeles all the time and it doesn’t faze me anymore—no, we started freaking out specifically because here’s Michael Cera who we’ve just been watching for the last two hours in Superbad and whose brilliance we’ve just been going on and on about. Like, it felt like we manifested him or something. It was just too weird. Oh, and I should say that I was holding my shoes and walking down the sidewalk in black dress socks. (Which is part of the whole “stranded in Burbank” story, but again I’m not going to bore you with those details.) Oh, and also, one of the other people in the group with Michael Cera was Charlyne Yi, the hilarious stoner girlfriend from Knocked Up, and we recognized her as well, and we definitely thought seeing her was cool, and maybe if we’d literally just walked out of Knocked Up we would have freaked out about “manifesting” her, but we hadn’t manifested her, we’d manifested Michael Cera, and she was just a by-product of that manifestation, so we were freaking out about Michael Cera. Anyway, if I’m obsessing right now, it’s because I still have to poop and the barista is still way too cute, and I still haven’t gotten to the good parts of the Michael Cera story, and how many times have I typed his name in this paragraph? Too many times.

So we walked past Michael Cera and then we got to the end of the block and Eleanor was like, “we should have said something to him—we should have told him how good he was.” Because the movie doesn’t open for a few more weeks and we thought he should know that his movie is about to become a huge fucking hit because it’s brilliant. And Eleanor was like, “we missed our opportunity, we have to go back.” And then I was like, “yes, let’s go back.” And then we both were like, “we’re gonna look so weird.” And then Eleanor was like, “you’re holding your shoes, you already look weird.” And then I was like, “let’s go tell him.” And Eleanor was like, “go, go, now!”

So we walk back down the sidewalk towards Michael Cera’s group, and they’re totally immersed in conversation, and we totally interrupted them, and I was like, “Um, uh…excuse me?” (I don’t think I actually said “excuse me,” but I’d like to sound a little less rude on my blog so I’m gonna say I said “excuse me.”) And then I stammered out a couple more “uh’s” because I was completely acting as un-suave as a human being can act, and by then everyone in the group was looking at me like, “you just interrupted our conversation, say what you’re trying to say,” but in a nice way. So I continued: “We just saw a preview of your movie in Burbank and it was so good.” And then Michael Cera said: “Wait, you saw the preview?” And I said, “yeah, in Burbank, you’re so funny.” (I don’t know why I kept saying it was “in Burbank”—I think I felt like the words “in Burbank” gave me some validity, like he’d know there was a preview screening in Burbank and therefore know exactly what we were talking about.) But then Michael Cera was like, “or, wait, you saw the whole thing?” And then I realized that when I said we’d seen a “preview” of the movie,” he thought we’d come over to him to gush about the trailer before some other movie. Which was kind of embarrassing because we’d actually seen the entire movie. So then I was like, “yeah, we saw the whole thing,” and then I felt the need to overexplain, so I continued: “And then we walked past you and we got to the corner and we couldn’t walk away without telling how good you were, so we came back, and here you are, and you were really good.” And then Michael Cera, sounding exactly like Michael Cera, said: “Well, thanks for coming back!” And then Eleanor and I smiled and thanked him for being so good and continued on our way to Birds. And even though our encounter with Michael Cera was totally awkward, we were happy and ready to go on our way to dinner.

And that should be the end of the story. But it wasn’t quite. Because as we were finishing our meals at Birds, we looked towards the door and noticed that Michael Cera’s group was standing outside, waiting for a table. They were basically standing right in front of the door, which meant the only way for us to get out of the restaurant would have been for us to walk THROUGH their group. And we didn’t want to have another awkward encounter with them, so we were stuck. And we sat there at our table for, like, twenty minutes, waiting for Michael Cera’s group to either get a table or leave. Just so we wouldn’t encounter them again. We’d had our moment. We didn’t want another one. Just. Too. Awkward.

But they just kept standing there. And we kept waiting. And they kept standing there. And we kept waiting.

And then we saw our chance. Charlyne Yi came into the restaurant and walked over to the “to go” counter, so apparently that’s what they were waiting for. "To go" food. And as Charlyne Yi walked up to the “to go” counter, Michael Cera walked away. We were like, “awesome, he’s leaving, this is our moment to get out.” So we paid for our food and we snuck out of the restaurant, and we made our way over to the Bourgeois Pig (where I’m sitting right now, making sexy-sexy eyes at the cute barista and not pooping) and as I reach for the door handle to enter the coffee shop the door suddenly opens and suddenly Michael Cera is standing in the doorway holding some sort of smoothie, and he sees me and Eleanor and immediately recognizes us as the weird people who saw his movie tonight, and we immediately recognize him as Michael Cera who starred in our movie tonight, and then we all kind of step back awkwardly as if to let someone else get out of the doorway first, and the sudden awkward movement causes Michael Cera to jerk his smoothie towards the door and smoothie flies all over the door, which we all look at, again awkwardly, and then he was like, “um, hi,” and we were like, “um, hi,” and then Eleanor and I parted so that Michael Cera could pass through us and then we went into the coffee shop and now we just want Michael Cera to let us enjoy our food and drinks in peace, please.

Oh my god, but you have to see his movie. At least ten times. It fucking rocks cock in the best way.

Now I really have to go poop.

good news, nothing to worry about

2007-07-30T11:48:00.001-07:00

We just talked to both of Uma's doctors. John already sent the latest news out to his email list, so I'm going to cut and paste his update:

hi everyone,

dr. shevienk just came out, he's the neurosurgeon
here, and he said the 'neck remnant' of the aneurysm
has actually gotten smaller than it was in the
previous angiogram of feb. 16th. it is actually too
small for more coils and that it is probably too small
to clip as that might easily damage the main artery
the aneurysm protrudes from. so......he is 'without a
doubt' comfortable with waiting another six months for
another look. he said this is 'good news', the fact
that it has not gotten any bigger in the last six
months.

just wanted to let you know - this will be on-going
but we will breathe a bit easier now.

with my whole heart i thank you for your prayers and
thoughts. thank you.

we will probably go home in a few hours!

love,

john

at the hospital right now

2007-07-30T11:05:00.001-07:00

John just sent this out, and I thought I'd post it:

hi everyone,

we arrived at the hospital at 7:30 this morning and it's now
10:20 am. they just took her into the interventional
radiology room. i'm here with erik and marie. we all
met the doctor, dr. alexander. he has done
more aneurysm coiling than anyone in the country and
he talked with us about what some of the options and
risks are.

he said that the fact that she has been previously
coiled makes the clipping surgery more complicated -
it can make it more difficult to attach the clip. he
also pointed out that clipping isn't always permanent
and that they use a polymer coated coil
that speeds up the scarring/healing/clotting process.
we all feel really comfortable with him and with this
whole facility. it's so different than anywhere else
we've been.

there is a five per cent risk factor, statistically,
for complications such as: bleeding, allergic reaction
to the dye used in the angiogram, stroke, bad reaction
to the anesthesia, etc. so...it's not risk free, but
little in a hospital is. please pray and send love.

it should take between 1.5 and 3 hours and they'll
probably have to keep her over night for observation.

all my prayers, all my love to uma.

more later,

john

latest Uma update from John (7/29), and a TASK FOR MONDAY

2007-07-29T11:19:00.000-07:00

FROM JOHN:

Hello everyone,

Uma and I are sitting in a doctors office wating for
her pre-op tests. It’s friday.

She was approved for medi-cal earlier this month and I
remembered that, at one point, in NY, we had contacted
Dr. Wouter Shevienk, the director of the Maxine Dunitz
Neurosurgical Institute and he agreed to accept her as
a patient provided she was a qualified medi-cal
person. So....on Wednesday I called and asked if she
could see him. They set up an appointment for
yesterday, Thursday, and decided, after reviewing
films and charts from NY, that she needs another
angiogram to verify the efficacy of the coils clotting
her aneurysm.

Today we are having tests done to make sure she’s ok
physically to have the angiogram and, possibly, more
coiling on Monday. On Monday, there are three
possibilities - 1) that she would not have any
problems and go home 2) that she would have a problem
that can be fixed by coiling and they would do that
then 3) that she would have problem that cannot
permanently be resolved through coiling and would
require “clipping”, which would be done at a later
date.

Coiling is the placement of microscopic platinum coils
in the “dome” of the aneurysm to assist the body in,
usually, a permanent clot. This is done through a
femoral artery catheter and is not considered a
surgical or invasive procedure. This is what they did
for her in NY. The risks of this procedure are that
coils can loosen up, allowing blood to flow again into
the dome of the aneurysm or that the cois can actually
slip out of the dome and into the blood vessel which
can cause an inappropriate clot or stroke. These
things are unlikely but they do happen. Coils are not
always a permanent solution to an aneurysm and require
that she get checked regularly thoughout the year.

Clipping is an invasive surgery. They cut into her
cranium, locate the aneurysm and clip the “neck” of it
with a tiny titanium clip. This is considered a
permanent fix to the aneurysm if done without
complications in the surgery. The risks involved in
clipping are the same with any cranial surgery as well
as problems with the invasive quality of the
procedure. Any time you stick things in the brain you
can have swelling, vasospasm, stroke, memory loss,
speech problems, blurred vision, headaches, infection,
paralysis, etc. These complications are lessened by
the fact that she is not in the middle of her
aneurysm breaking. It’s not an emergency.

She just went in for the chest x-ray. Earlier this
morning she had the other normal tests and she’s ok to
go.

I was up last night, unable to sleep, thinking about
the options here. The idea that we could have a
permanent fix is very attractive. The idea that she
could possibly be set back in her speech or physical
therapy due to complications of clipping is
heartbreaking. She has come so far and I don’t want to
see any of that amazing work compromised.

It’s now sunday morning. I think I was avoiding
finishing this email because there is a part of me
that, honestly, doesn’t want to face more
hospitalization for her. I thought it enough that she
would be in intensive rehab for more than a year. This
latest has brought back a lot of resentment on the
part of the doctors in NY. Why they never bothered to
tell us about this I don’t know. Maybe tomorrow, after
her angiogram, we’ll find out why they never told us
about it. Though it doesn’t always help to look back
on things, I wonder where we would be in our lives now
if hadn’t been looking through her chart and found
this report about the remnant of aneurysm. But as long
as we have to face this, then we might as well face
the whole picture which includes how we’ll view, in
ten years, whatever hardship she’s about to endure. If
surgery, exluding complications, then we have reason
to breathe a bit easier in terms of recurrance. Also,
and I hope I haven’t said this about other situations,
I believe we are in really good hands. Cedars Sinai
and these physicians have an excellent reputation.
That and my informed questions and proper responses to
the answers are what we can do, physically, to help
her.

And now I want to ask all of you to pray for and think
of her tomorrow, Monday morning. We check in at 7:30am
and, at some point later, they take her back. People
are always reminding me to take care of myself. I’ve
found that this is often a spiritual thing, even if
I’m just going for a run to keep my first heart attack
at arms length. I’m thinking that one great prayer is
the one where you take extra good care of yourself (on
Monday morning) in honor of Uma and, of course,
yourself. Do something beautiful for yourself or
because of yourself and send that love past Uma on the
way to its final destination. For what it’s worth, I
truly believe all the people who helped in this way
saved her life. I believe in it and I believe in you.
Thank you.

Recently Erik sent an email with video links to people
who donated to Uma. I don’t think he’ll mind if I send
the link to everyone. So here they are....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lNPsSaG7nMw

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jbINlKh8fbU

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UY1wYo5Ti38

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p_ejiZyF--g

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pHsrhSQo_XA

Also, I’ve set up a myspace page for Uma that is
including photos and video of her progress so far. As
often as I can, I will update this.

http://www.myspace.com/umaspace

Thank you for Monday.

Love,

John

uma thanks

2007-07-29T10:28:00.000-07:00

I sent out a long email thanking all of the people who made donations to help pay for the air ambulance that brought Uma home in March, and I want to post that email below. Also, Uma has to go in for an angiogram on Monday, and there's a possibility that she might need to have her aneurysm coiled again, or clipped. There's more info about that at the bottom of this post, but please think some good thoughts for Uma on Monday. Say a prayer, light a candle, do what you do. Maybe I'll send out a specific task on Monday morning.

Okay, here's the email:

We're sending this email to all of the incredibly generous people who've made donations to The Uma Fund. (As well as all of the people who have helped in so many other ways—with your prayers, your research, your food, your visits…) All of your support has been so incredible, so inspiring, so awesome--so we want to thank you.

We cannot say those words enough. With all of our hearts: thank you.

This email of thanks is long overdue. I've been meaning to send it out for months, but I guess things happen when they're meant to happen. The other day I asked Uma if she'd like to thank all of you herself—via video—and her eyes lit up. "Yes." She is very aware of all of the love and support you've given her, and she wants to express that. She wants to thank you for all of your prayers, your love, your support. At the end of this email, I've posted five short videos of her expressing these thoughts to you in her own words.

A quick health update: Uma's doing really well. On March 12, she was transferred via air ambulance (thanks to your donations) from St. Vincent's in NYC to Rancho Los Amigos in California, to begin her rehabilitation and therapy. At that time, she wasn't able to speak at all and she had very little movement in the right side of her body. On April 17, she was discharged from Rancho to go home with her fiance, John. At that time, she was able to walk with a cane and speak some words (mostly just "yes" and "no," and a few other phrases). Since coming home, she's been on a rigorous therapy schedule—she has speech and physical therapy for several hours every day. Again, this would not have been possible without the donations you made. The out-of-pocket bills for therapy are about $600 a week—Uma and John have been able to pay these bills with the extra money that was raised for the air ambulance. So thank you for that.

Uma still has a long road of therapy ahead of her, but she is determined to continue working until she gets all of her speech and movement back. You can see for yourself how well she's doing in the videos below. (We filmed five videos and I think Uma's a little bit embarrassed by them—she sees herself struggling for the right words and she wishes that she could say EVERYTHING she wants to say RIGHT NOW—but she's making steady progress in the right direction and I think you will see in these videos how far she's come.)

Okay, enough of my blabbing. These videos are from Uma, to you.

Video #1 (56 seconds long)

Video #2 (7 seconds long)

Video #3 (37 seconds long)

Video #4 (44 seconds long)

Video #5 (1 minute, 42 seconds long)

With thanks and love,

Uma, John, and Erik

P.S. – Uma is scheduled to have another angiogram on Monday. It turns out, when they coiled her original aneurysm in February, a portion of the aneurysm that should have been contained within the coil basically broke through and has been bulging out ever since. The doctors in New York failed to mention this incredibly important piece of information to the doctors in California, but thankfully John was looking over her medical charts and he saw this for himself. On Monday, Uma's new doctor is going to look at this portion of the aneurysm and decide to treat it in one of three ways: (1) if it's really small, nothing will need to be done; or (2) if it's slightly bigger, it might need to be coiled, which is the same procedure that was done in New York—it's not incredibly uncommon, but it IS an invasive procedure--they would do this on Monday during the angiogram; or (3) if it's really bulging out, this portion of the aneurysm might need to be "clipped," which is a fairly big procedure and would be scheduled for another date. ("Clipping" the aneurysm would require shaving Uma's head again and making an incision into her skull to get directly at the aneurysm--something that's not required in the coil procedure.) In all of the above three scenarios, Uma is going to have to spend a few days in the hospital. She's kind of nervous because this is the first time she's had to go in for a procedure since she's been conscious of what's been going on with her brain. So please send her good thoughts and keep her in your prayers. Thank you...

p.p.s. If you know anyone who might not have been able to donate in March, but would still like to make a donation, we are still trying to raise money for Uma's therapy. Our funds will last for several more months, but we expect that Uma will need therapy for at least a full year. Donations can be made via paypal HERE.

p.p.p.s. THANK YOU!

July 19, 1994

2007-07-28T01:24:00.000-07:00

I skipped a page of my diary because it was a poem and this poem is so hideously bad, but it's not hideously bad in a fun-to-share way. It's just bad in a boring way. The title of the poem was "Dreams from the Sky Fall Down" and if anyone wants to read it, I'll post it, but seriously: it's, like, so lame it hurts. And like I said, not in a good way.

So, anyway. Skipping ahead. This next diary entry is a list of goals. I'm just going to post the list without any comments and then afterwards I'll let you know how I did on achieving said goals. It's a short list.

July 19, 1994

GOALS:

(1) To have my headshot taken by July 19, 1995

(2) To do all that I can and make a differance (sic) at NHHS with my job as ASB Recognition Commisioner (sic).

(3) To become a candystriper and help out as much as possible.

(4) To continue to exercise and work out for my health and looks.

(5) To keep in touch with Lane and Jesse and Gina while they're at college.

(6) To fulfill these goals!

*

(1) I did not achieve this goal. I didn't have my first set of headshots taken until my sophomore year of college. Then I had another set of headshots taken my senior year of college. Then I gave up acting. Lotta good the headshots did. Speaking of which, I still have a box filled with about three thousand copies of my last headshot. I'm not joking. This box of headshots is in the storage unit above my parking space in my garage. I would love to get rid of them. So if you, like, want an autographed headshot, just hit me up with your mailing address via email and I'll totally send it to you. It'll be your own little "My Year Of New Things" keepsake.

(2) I have so many things to say about this one. First of all, "ASB Recognition Commisioner" is such a random position. It sounds like the pity job they gave to the kid with the least votes for some other more prestigious ASB position. (Which might have been the case.) Also, vowing to "do all that I can" is kind of aiming the bar low. It's not like I wanted to do "my best." No, this goal is begging to be left incomplete so that I can say, "oh well, that was all I could do." Thirdly, I don't remember being on ASB at all; the only thing I remember about this entire position was posing for the Yearbook photo--which was probably the most important ASB-related moment of the entire year anyway because the only reason I joined ASB was so that I could put it on my college applications. Lastly, what the fuck is a "recognition commisioner"???

(3) I totally completed this goal. I was a candystriper for six months. And I think I was pretty helpful during my candystriping days. (Jesse, didn't we candystripe together for a little while before you went off to college? Was I any good?)

(4) My favorite part about this goal is the whole "to continue to" part because it implies that I've been exercising and I want to keep at it, when in reality this goal should have read "to start to exercise." Needless to say, I never started. My other favorite part about this goal is that I admitted that I wanted to exercise to look good. This goal was a bust.

(5) I totally ROCKED this goal and am still friends with Lane, Jesse, and Gina, so this goal makes me happy.

(6) Two out of five ain't bad!

July 18, 1994

2007-07-26T09:49:00.000-07:00

Okay, here's another entry from my recently unearthed high school diary. This entry is fairly short and almost completely ridiculous, so I'm not going to make any comments about it. I think its ridiculousness speaks for itself pretty loudly. (Um, the fact that I quoted Arrested Development a couple of entries after quoting the movie Cliffhanger? And my last cryptic line about virginity? Classic future biographer material.)

July 18, 1994

My cousin Jessica might skip 6th grade and go on to 7th. Wow. She really is very mature for her age and she must be very intelligent also. I hope that the move proves to be challenging and fulfilling for her. I believe that she can do it. I'm a proud cousin.

The Arrested Development song (which I can't think of the title right now) says "It takes two to make a life and also to take one." I am pro-choice, but if I ever got a girl pregnant and she was considering abortion, I would hope that she would talk to me about it and let me be there for her. I would respect her choice. This, of course, depends on the situation, but if she made this decision, I hope that I would be there for her.

No need worrying about this right now. I am, after all, still a virgin. That doesn't mean I haven't experienced anything...

uma july 18th

2007-07-20T11:20:00.000-07:00

JOHN'S LATEST UPDATE, from the 18th:

hi everyone,

i’m sitting in the speech therapy office with uma and
her therapist. they’re looking at flashcards of
various objeccts and people and uma’s job is to name
them. sometimes she needs a bit of cue-ing, sometimes
a lot, sometimes none.

yesterday we went to ucla to pick up the cd roms of
her angiogram films and afterwards went to will rogers
park in the palisades to do speech work and take a
hike. we came home after a side trip to starbucks and
did arm and hand exercises and then sat in our little
pool.

some really nice things happened yesterday regarding
her speech. when we were walking back to the car after
the hike, she said, “what time is it?”, where usually
she would do an end run clear around the needed words.
and then, post-pool, she looked in the refrigerator
and said, “what are we doing tonight?” asking about
dinner. this morning, at the time we normally put in
her contact lenses she said, in an accent stright
from the ‘hood, “come awone!” (come on!) and smiled. i
said, “what?” and she said, “t-contax” and i replied,
in a broad english accent, “well said my friend” and
she says, in an equally broad english accent, “thank
you”. we both laugh.

the other day i was on our front porch looking through
the 2 inch thick medical chart from new york and found
something. it’s a report from the radiologist during
her second angiogram. this was when they were checking
on the coil and this caused her vasospasm/stroke for
which they administered angioplasty to re-open the
blood vessels. upon looking at the original aneurysm
they found a “neck” portion of it that was still
bulging. the original aneurysm was 1.5 mm, which they
coiled. this “neck” is 1.2 mm. they did not proceed
with coiling this because “of the swelling and
vasospasm” they felt it was unwise to proceed with
this. i understand why they wouldn’t have done
another coiling at that time. uma was in pretty
fragile condition at the time. what i don’t understand
is that no one in new york ever told us about this. i
was left with a familiar feeling - that they just sort
of gave up on her and wanted her gone from there. it
reminded me of the hour before we put her on a
stretched on the way to the air ambulance and dr.
hirschfeld said, “by the way, you’ll probably want to
revise that shunt.” so i’ve benn thinking about this
for the last two weeks. we have a neurosurgical
consult at usc the first week in august and i’ll bring
this to the attention of the doctor. also, she has
just been approved for medi-cal and the head
neurosugeon at cedars sinai had, at one point, agreed
to take her as a patient provided she was medi-cal
approved. i’m going to contact him, too, and see if we
can get her in there. i want a more direct and
personal relationship with a neurosurgeon for her.

this almost always brings me around to realizing that
there is only this one single moment in time.....ever.
the curse of knowing that there is a possible future
so easily leads to wanting to change that future. the
best i can do is try to prepare for it as best i can,
try to make sure she gets the best help, assist her
in her recovery and then have a long series of good
moments that we string together to make a past worth
remembering. i never want to look back at any of this
and wish i had done something more (or less). staying
in the present is the best help for that.

anyway - if you felt good praying for or thinking
about her, if it brought you a good feeling or a deep
one, or even if it made you cry and feel worried (!),
if it made you feel more human or part of the real
things in life....do it again. she needs you. i
really believe this.....you all have helped to bring
her here.

and thank you for that. ( i can’t figure out how to
put all the feeling i have into those two words).

more soon.

love,

john

July 17, 1994

2007-07-18T22:58:00.000-07:00

Gina, you get your first diary mention today! I’m trying to remember when we dated—I think it was in the middle of my sophomore year? I feel like we broke up on Valentine’s Day, but maybe I’m making that up. Anyway, let’s pretend that we DID in fact break up on Valentine’s day, which would mean I wrote this five months after we broke up. And, apparently, you really broke my big straight heart—I was still trying to get over you.

But first, I decided to finish telling my New York Stories:

July 17, 1994:

New York. New Years. 4:00 a.m. All of us kids, about 12 of us, were in one room, celebrating. A couple of people, I’m not sure who, thought it would be fun to dump cups of water on the strangers walking by, through the hotel window. (This doesn’t sound like something I would have done, so I don’t think I was trying to pass the blame onto someone else—but I think the whole “I’m not sure who” thing was a lie, I think I didn’t want to get anyone in trouble. After all, what if the people on the sidewalk sued the 12 of us and my diary was seized as evidence? I’m just saying I was savvy. My future biographers did not need to know the names of the guilty water throwers.) They got this man on the head and he looked up and pointed at us, angry. Everyone got away from the window, their nerves shaken from his glare. (I was soooooo dramatic!) About 10 minutes later, maybe even sooner, there was a knock on our door. Hotel security! They told us a man was standing outside with a gun claiming that we had dumped water on him. We deinied and the man gave us a warning and left. Five minutes later, we all left that room to sleep in other rooms, shooken (sic) with the idea of a man pointing a gun towards our window. (The funny thing is, I remember this night vividly. I remember the security guard yelling at us to settle down. I remember leaving that room, afraid that the wet man was going to start sniping us through the window. We were in New York City and we felt like we were LIVING for the first time, and our lives were so important and OF COURSE men were waving guns at us from down below. Because we were sixteen and we felt like everything we did was done in Capital Letters, you know? Just. So. Dramatic.) It was a thrilling experience, which I can say only after the fact, now that I am home, safe and sound. (See, biographers! Some hapless wet man allegedly pointed a gun at all of us kids from several stories below, AND I WAS THRILLED. That’s how cool I was, biographers.) But despite this, New York was really a passage for me. It was the first time that I had ever somewhat fended for myself—paying for all of my meals, working out my schedule and transportation, and taking care of myself. The chaperons really didn’t do much, if I had been missing it might have taken them a few days to realize, so I was really on my own. (I felt SO ADULT it’s killing me.) (Mostly it’s killing me because I’m about to turn 30, and my inner about-to-turn 30 monologue sounds SO SIMILAR.) I love New York and I vow to live there for at least one year of my life.

(Gina, get ready, I’m about to start talking about you.)

I want to date someone who isn’t interested in committment (sic). I want no committment (sic) right now. I just want to be able to date and not worry about anything. If something special happens, then that’s great. But my last two relationships were too intense. I let myself fall too deep with Gina that I was blind. I knew that we weren’t made for each other and I never wanted a “forever” thing, but when she broke up with me I was caught completely off guard. I wasn’t ready for it. Now I want to date around, see more than one person, and not let things get too serious for awhile. (I love that I thought we were SOOOOO serious, Gina. Um, if I remember correctly, I don’t think we ever had a “serious” “relationship” conversation ever! All we did was hang out with our friends and occasionally make out in the back of Rayline’s truck.)

(And here’s my favorite out-of-nowhere topic transition, the gayest of them all.)

I want to learn how to disco! Night fever, night fever…

(Okay, this next paragraph is weird. And I think it gives a really clear picture of what kind of kid I was, just the fact that THIS is something I would write in my DIARY.)

I’m going to play a game of free word association: Disco – dance – lights – dark – death – life – sex – babies – youth – kids – innocent – free – virgin – sex – love – strength – weakness – fall – crush – death – rise – set – sun – yellow – flower – bee – honey – food – water – rain – wet – clean – shower – morning – sleep – live – die – heaven – hell – Devil – God – clouds – mystic – power – awesome – wonder – dream – reality – movies – actors – people – consume – mass – population – control – need – sick – help – heal – live.

(I don’t know what this string of words says about sixteen-year-old Erik, but it makes me feel incredibly boring, and I wish that sixteen-year-old Erik would just come out of the closet and get laid already.)

July 16, 1994

2007-07-17T23:11:00.000-07:00

I just realized how great it was that the internet was invented because now I don’t have to wait until I’m dead to share my high school diaries with the world. My future biographers can start their biographing NOW.

In today’s installment of Erik Patterson Thought He Was Really Profound When He Was Sixteen, I share my thoughts on capital punishment, the movie Heart and Souls, and the first time I ever got drunk.

July 16, 1994

“You kill a few men and you’re a murderer. You kill a million and you’re a conquerer. Go figure.” – John Lithgow in the movie Cliffhanger.

This is an interesting summation of how our society views killing. In my mind, either way you are a murderer. (Wow, Erik, you were brilliant. Way to go with the hard-hitting analysis. Oh, but wait, you continue.)

Capital punishment? I am against it. I feel that if we feel the need to murder someone to punish them for murder, we are only stooping down to their level. The “eye for an eye” belief is bullshit. Besides, what kind of a punishment is death. A lifeliess life that is forever spent in jail is a much better punishment. Also, I don’t believe in Hell. (Hello, topic shift. I really just went from one random topic to the next in my diary, didn’t I? I think I was just trying to log as much data as possible, to help those future biographers.) Wherever souls go when someone dies – they all go to the same place. If someone killed a loved one of mine, I sure as hell wouldn’t want them to join my loved one in Heaven, or wherever souls go. (Okay, but Erik, if you don’t believe in Hell, then being as “sure as hell” isn’t really very sure, is it?)

“Heart and Souls” was a really great movie. (I’m trying to understand the logic of this particular topic shift, and I think it’s a stream-of-conscious thing; like, I was just talking about souls and so now I’ll talk about the movie “Heart and Souls.” I was a weird kid.) It just touched me where I needed to be touched (no comment) and I guess I saw it numerous times. The idea of walking down a public street singing “Walk Like A Man” is so freeing and fulfilling. Since seeing the movie, Lindsay and I break into this song often. It is always a great release. (I kind of find this “Heart and Souls” paragraph more embarrassing and humiliating than any of the other diary bits and pieces so far. I don’t know why I find this paragraph so particularly embarrassing, but I do.)

I suppose that I should tell my New York story while it is still sort of fresh in my head. (And also because I apparently have ADD in my diary and can’t seem to focus on any one topic for more than a paragraph.)

Over Christmas vacation, I went to New York with Drama--Jesse, Lindsay, Justin, Nicky, Keri, Jamie, Lolita, Julia, etc. It was a thrilling experience to finally experience Broadway plays. The first night, I saw Blood Brothers with Gwen. The theatre was small, comfortable. Before the curtain rose, my stomach was turning, I was so excited. Anyway, I saw eleven shows in one week. One highlight was New Years Even Night. I went to see Les Miserables and after the show, the whole cast came out and sang “Auld Lang Sine.” It was neat. One major 1st that happened in New York, though, was the first time I ever got drunk. It was the first--and to this day, the last--time I ever drank, also. Tuesday night, a few days before New Years Eve, we were all going to see a show, I can’t remember which one—no, wait. It was Laughter on the 23rd Floor, by Neil Simon. After the show, we waited at the stage door and met Nathan Lane and John Slattery. Anyway, before the show, I saw Paul. He came with us too, he was my director for our production Noises Off. Well, Paul and I were waiting to go to the show and he was going to the hotel bar—I went with him. Since I was in there, I thought I’d try to order a drink—I got a Gin and Tonic. We were sitting at the bar drinking and eating pretzels and the bartender didn’t say anything! Mind you—I’m 16-years-old, but I guess I look old for my age. Everyone always tells me that and it was proving to be true. Well, I had never drank before and it gave me a little bit of a headache that I had throughout the entire show. After the show, the whole group of us went to this Piano Bar called “Don’t Tell Mama’s.” It is a great place where the waitresses sing to you during the evening and anyone who wants to can go and sing too. That’s why we went there, for the singing. Most of the kids were getting things like Coke to drink and the chaperones didn’t notice what some of us others were getting. Since it worked at the hotel bar, I thought that I would try getting drinks here, too. I don’t remember what I was ordering, but by around 2:00 a.m. I had had about 5 different drinks and the only people left in the bar from our group was me, Nicky, Keri, and Paul. I had about 2 more drinks with them until the waitress told us it was closing time at a little bit past 3:00 a.m. It was time to pay and I paid with a travellors (sic) check! Well, she needed to see I.D. to use a travellors (sic) check so I got out the $20 fake I.D. card that I had bought that afternoon and everything was fine. Either she didn’t notice or she didn’t care that there was a differant (sic) name on the I.D. than the check! Anyway, even though I had had quite a few drinks, I only felt a buzz. I thought that if I had gone this far, then I wanted to get completely drunk—this wasn’t enough. So we asked where the nearest bar was that might still be open. The bartender said that there was another one around the corner, so we walked over there. Well, we got there and outside the door, Keri and Nicky said that they wanted to go back to the hotel and they left. Paul and I went into the bar and sat at the bar. We ordered drinks and not until I was on my second one--there--did I realize that it was a gay bar! There were only two other people in there. Luckily, when one of them tried to come on to me, Paul started talking to him and saved me. (!!!) Well, the bar was closing. It was now about 4:30 a.m. and we were told we had to go. I paid and when I got up, it all hit me, I could barely stand up straight (maybe it’s because you were in a gay bar! Thank god Paul saved you!) and I wobbled out of the bar. I was drunk. Paul and I were about 8 blocks away from the hotel and we are very lucky that we made it back alive. I can’t believe how stupid we were. Two drunks, walking 8 blocks to a hotel, alone, at 4:30 a.m. in New York City. Outside the hotel lobby, Paul almost got into a fight with a bum. Once I got to my room, I could not stop giggling. I noticed that someone was sleeping in my bed—rules weren’t strict and we could sleep in any room we wanted to, so I went next door and Jamie let me sleep in her room. After I stopped giggling, I passed out. The next day, I was thoroughly embarrassed. I had a headache, and I haven’t had a drink since. Well, that’s my drinking story. New York was a great learning experience. Maybe I’ll write more about it later.

July 15, 1994

2007-07-17T02:33:00.000-07:00

I figure it’s time for another installment of my recently unearthed (and insanely profound) high school diary. In today’s episode, I wax rhapsodic about my brother Josh’s first foray into acting (if I’m doing the math right, he was eight when I wrote this) and I pontificate about O.J. Simpson’s fate.

July 15, 1994

Today I saw Josh perform a scene and a song for a class. Is this a beginning? As much as I hope it is, pity he who goes into acting for a living, for I know there isn’t much out there to make a living off of in ratio to the number of actors out there.

(Holy crap, I cannot believe what a tool I was. Um, “pity he”????)

Today was long and exhausting and I am going to curse myself tomorrow for not going to be early.

(And that’s all I said about that. I have no idea what was so long and exhausting about that July day in 1994—apparently I had much more important matters to discuss in my diary. Read on.)

I saw someone selling t-shirts that had O.J. Simpson’s face and in bold letters said “NOT GUILTY.” This supports my conviction that it will be impossible to find an impartial jury. Who is to blame but the media? They have made the O.J. case into a media frenzi (sic) that resembles more circus than integrity. Because of the media, no one in the U.S. has been left without an opinion on whether O.J. is guilty or innocent. And unless O.J. makes a confession, we never will know. (I think I was trying to sound really smart by inverting the “never” and the “will” in that sentence.) But everyone has made up in their mind a decision about his guilt/innocence. I would not call someone who wore an “O.J. NOT GUILTY” shirt impartial and I do not see how O.J could possibly have a fair trial. I am afraid that the media has made a mockery of this case and because of this I fear that O.J. will go free, whether he is guilty or not. No—I am not impartial either. I believe O.J. to be guilty. (Why am I talking like that??? “I believe O.J. to be guilty”???? Seriously, I was such a tool.) Could the media frenzi (sic) surrounding this case elimanate (sic) all form of justice from our legal system? Maybe I’m so upset by this because I feel the media drawing me in, too.

(Now get ready for a quick topic shift. What I find most absurd about these diary entries is that you can just smell how important I thought they were. It’s so obvious that I wasn’t writing for myself, but for a future biographer. I am genuinely mortified by the next paragraph and for a moment I considered skipping it altogether, but whatever, pushing on.)

Whore. Usually such a derogative word, but when used towards a good friend it is the most freeing and exhilarating word to use. It connotates a sense of teasing and trust in the other person for it is used in the most friendly context. I discovered this when I went out with my friends and we discovered that if we were ever frustrated our frustration was gone if we only called each other “fucking whores.” We all knew that we were joking and these words are actually very fun to say. Fucking whore. (Maybe Isaiah Washington had a similar attitude towards the word faggot and that’s why he didn’t really get the whole brouhaha?) It’s such a release. Our society puts such harsh criticism against such “dirty” words. And isn’t forbidden fruit the sweetest. (Oh my god.) In my circle of friends, “fucking whore” has become a term of affection. (Jesse? Lane? Gina? Do you remember this at all? Or was I writing COMPLETELY out of my ass here?)

(And now for another complete tonal shift.)

The Drovers is an excellent band. Try to find their CD, they must have one. (Who the fucking whore am I talking to??? Am I telling my biographers to buy the CD??? Because I know that I already had it and that whole “they must have one” thing was just me feigning ignorance.) I heard them play for the first time with my Grandpa and Joanne at the Golen Globe Awards—at the after-party, no less! (Who talks like this?) A kind man gave us his tickets after we were through ogling stars. (“A kind man”—I sound like I’m a peasant boy in 18th century London.) They were like no band I’ve ever heard before, they have their own distinctive sound, very Irish. Well, they were in the movie Blink, too. Their music was the only good thing about the movie. I’m determined to find their CD. (I swear, I already had it. I know I did. I was such a diary liar.) I am also determined to hear Violent Femmes live in concert. They are so amazing. Most likely my favorite group. (Notice how I wasn’t willing to fully commit to them as my favorite group? Just a feeble most likely. I was a doof.)

*

I'm too tired to transcribe the next entry tonight, but it's a good one and I'll post it soon--it's all about the first time I got drunk, when I was 15. Good stuff.

(I just noticed the date of this entry and realized that it's basically from EXACTLY thirteen years ago. Thank God for age.)

latest Uma update from John (7/12/07)

2007-07-15T08:39:00.000-07:00

FROM JOHN (7/12/07):

hello again everyone,

i've been busy! but i've been thinking about how all
of you prayed and thought and meditated and walked and
vandalized and wrote and donated and called and
visited and cooked and cleaned and walked and
tried.....and i feel like i really need to tell you
all what's going on with uma on a regular basis.

life is very strange compared with what i've been lead
to believe it 'should' be. it is what it is i guess
and you react as best you can to what is in front of
you. for a long time i thought the adjustments to our
new life together would be more difficult for me than
for her but the more aware uma becomes of her
situation and the more she can actually do the more
she is prone to being depressed or resigned to her
current abilities. getting her to do things for her
own therapy on a self-motivated basis is not so easy.
the great thing about her is that, if you do give her
a task, she will do it all the way and won't stop
until she can do it right. when i said this was going
to be a long, long recovery i truly meant every word.

today was the last day for a while that our home-based
physical therapist (robbin, the associate professor at
usc) will come over. she is due to deliver her second
child on july 20th so.....you know....time for a
break. i've recorded a lot of video to use as
reference for our home program. i feel confident now,
after 2 months, that i can duplicate the exercises.
part of this confidence comes from the fact that uma
doing so well and can respond to commands and
understand the reasoning behind subtle changes in,
say, position or muscle/movement emphasis.
we continue to go to a hospital-based speech and
physical therapist each three times a week.

a typical day is - get up about 8. uma dresses herself
while i make breakfast. we eat, usually while watching
a tv show she likes (dawson's creek or something like
that). i put in her contact lenses for her (but she
has to say, "contacts" before i do it and this is a
very hard word for her right now) and tie her shoes.
she gathers up her purse and we go to glendale for
therapy. there she spends a couple of hours back to
back with speech and physical therapy. both therapists
are very happy with her progress.

much of the speech therapy revolves around reading and
comprehension. there are flash cards with pictures to
name-many of which she can name already without any
cue-ing- and very short stories to read and answer
questions about. she can't actually read aloud nor can
she yet say any of the words individually that she
sees on paper but she somehow gathers the meaning of a
sentence and can refer back to it when answering
written questions about the content of the story. she
'says' she feels like it's cheating because she gets
to look at the story text while answering the
questions but, in the end, it's all reading and
understanding and that's what we want. but that shows
her spirit - she wants to do it right.

physical therapy usually begins with the stairstepper
- up to 85 pounds the other day - for ten minutes. the
last time she did the stair stepper she held on to the
railing with both (yes, both) hands. no tape, no
cloth, no assisting. this happened on a day when she
also made a lot of headway in the 'weight-bearing'
positions they want her right arm to be in. the more
weight her arm/hand can bear, the more it will wake
the brain up in that area......then she will walk
sideways, backwards, up and down a small staircase,
etc.....do hamstring lifts with ankle weights or
repeatedly lift her right leg out and balance - lots
of different leg excercises. then there is right arm
stuff including massage and movement. (i'm hoping to
get together a myspace page detailing a lot of this
activity and uploading videos of her progress - she
said that would be ok with her). last evening in our
tiny little pool she was sitting on a lawn chair and
raised her right arm up on it's own to land on the
armrest, and, with help from her left hand, spread her
right fingers out and over the edge of the armrest.
this is the first time she's done anything like this
herself. that she'd be interested in it, think of it,
and be able to do it is a great sign and is also a way
to bear weight.

....then we would come home, i'd make lunch, we eat,
usually i do the dishes and then we begin a routine
that takes up about 25 minutes an hour each hour until
dinner. this routine varys from hour to hour but
includes speech therapy from her work book - reading,
alphabet flash cards (she can do A, B and C
consistently so far), pointing to objects in the room,
mimicing me while i say, "poe, toe, boe, woe, no, low,
so, zoe, koe" etc. - some of these are easier than
others for her. it also includes upper and lower
extremity stretching and range-of-motion, standing and
seated calf and toe raises, isolated quadricep and
hamstring exercises using the wall and a basketball (
look for the video.....soon i hope), exercises for
external rotation of her arm, wrist movement, pushing
and pulling with various devices (arm stuff), etc.
then, every other day we drive down to the fern dell
at the bottom of griffith park and walk up to the
observatory and back - takes about an hour....come
home, hop in the little pool and talk.....she takes a
shower, i cook dinner, we eat and, pretty soon, she's
asleep. and the days go on like this. i'm taking a
lot of time off work the next few months so we can
intesify her regimen. she's ready, i can feel it. the
catch is that, the more she can do, the more she
realizes what she can't do. but, also, the more she
can do, the more she wants to work.

with days and evenings like this ( add in work,
cleaning the house, grocery shopping, laundry) and
you can see why it's been so long since i've written.
i'm sorry about that but i just get so tired at night
which is about the only time i can do it.

she can answer the phone now and have a bit of
conversation, too so, those of you who have her
number, give her a call and maybe ask her when you can
see her if you want. that would be great.

all my love,

john

12 of 12, July 2007

2007-07-13T23:37:00.000-07:00

I should have posted this yesterday, but I didn't have internet access yesterday. I haven't participated in Chad's 12 of 12 project in many, many months, and I finally decided to get back in the game. Here goes.

#1: Highland Park, 8:46 a.m.

I just woke up. The night before, I'd had a fever of 101. I was all loopy and shit. (I'm still trying to get over a cold, but at least the fever's gone, thank the lord.) Anyway, taking the above photo was the first thing I did when I woke up and I wasn't happy about it. I am not a morning person. And 8:46 a.m. is early for me.

#2: L.A.X., 11:36 a.m.

Despite the fact that I woke up at the crack of dawn (I'm telling you, 8:46 is really early), I was still late to meet my mom for our planned carpool to the airport, so she was really paranoid about whether or not we were going to catch our plane or not (she'll scoff at the notion that she was "really paraniod," but it's true). In the above photo, we're about to go through security. The woman standing in front of my mom was, like, 4 feet and not an inch taller. I wanted to stow her in my suitcase and take her home with me.

#3: L.A.X., 11:38 a.m.

It only took two minutes to get through security, so now we have plenty of time to kill. I am fairly certain that my mom took extra time putting her shoes back on (above photo) so that it wouldn't seem like we had so much time to kill.

Bonus photo, "hotness," L.A.X., 11:52 a.m.

I was wandering, aimlessly, looking for something to eat before getting on the plane, when suddenly, I see a man enter the corridor and I freeze. I'm not even exaggerating for effect, I literally froze in my tracks. I think my jaw might have dropped, but I won't say that it did because I can't tell for sure because I pretty much lost all control of my body. Hell, I might have been floating and I wouldn't have even known it because the man who entered the corridor was Leland Palmer. Now, okay, yes, now that I'm at the home of my cousins Sue and Alan, I realize that Leland Palmer is a fictional character from the television show Twin Peaks and that he was portrayed by an actor named Ray Wise. Yes, I know that with every logical fiber in my body. But if I was stuck on a desert island and God told me he'd give me a TV set with one condition, that I'm only allowed to watch one television series and I can watch it as much as I want but seriously I'm never gonna get to watch another series so I'd better choose wisely, I would choose Twin Peaks. And my love for the show is really unabated, i.e. I get so annoyed when people say "Oh, yeah, that show was great in it's first season, but the second season sucked," because, okay, sure, some of the second season sucked--okay, maybe chunks of it did--but if the only thing you see in the second season is suckage, well, I'm sorry, but you're really missing out, because the second season has at least twenty brilliant moments. What am I saying??? MORE than twenty brilliant moments. (Every scene with David Lynch as Agent Gordon Cole, Piper Laurie's big reveal moment in the prison, the "Don't go back to Missoula, Montana" scene, that diner scene between Major Briggs and Bobby when Major Briggs tells Bobby about the dream he had and Bobby realizes that his dad loves him and he breaks down and cries...I could go on, but I won't.) The only storyline that's completely bad, IMHO, is the one with James and that blondie who tried to set him up for the murder of her husband, and that storyline isn't bad because of James Marshall's terrible acting (which actually WORKS most of the time BECAUSE of its badness, and I could go on and on about why, but I won't), no, that storyline's bad because it's the only storyline in the entire series that takes place OUTSIDE of Twin Peaks and suddenly melodramatic soapyness that's essential to the show started to feel out of place. And one of the best peices of the Twin Peaks puzzle is Ray Wise. I know that the actors have said that they didn't know the answer to the question "Who Killed Laura Palmer?" until the killer was finally revealed on the show, but if you go back and watch the show again from the beginning, Ray Wise knew. He had to have known! Watch the dream sequence in episode three, and then watch every single scene that Ray Wise is in, because it all points to him, but it's so subtle and Ray Wise is so brilliant and sad that you don't see it coming at all. With each episode, he builds to madness. But it takes, like, 14 episodes for him to get there, so it's a looooong build. And he teeters on the brink of absurdity without ever for one second losing the core emotional truth that he is a father who just lost his daughter in the most horrible way. It's such a good acting job that he is completely and utterly real in my head, and when I saw Ray Wise walking towards me, I swear to you: I held my breath. (On a side note, he's extremely handsome in person, and he looks completely un-crazy. I, on the other hand, probably looked bonkers, standing there, frozen, holding my breath, trying not to look like I'd noticed him while simultaneously STARING.) I didn't want to freak him out, and also I wanted to respect the fact that he's just trying to be a normal dude at the airport, so I didn't take my camera out of my pocket until he'd already walked upstairs on his way to the private airport bar. That small speck of a head you see in the above photo is him, walking away. Seeing Ray Wise was thrilling, and starstriking, and completely hot.

#4: Mid-air, 4:38 p.m.

How beautiful is that sky? I was enjoying the view. Until...

#5: Mid-air, 4:59 p.m.

...we started experiencing turbulance. And when I say "turbulance," I mean it felt like the airplane had been plucked out of the sky by the hand of God and he was shaking it to see if anyone was inside. I've never been scared in the air before, but for a few minutes there: I was scared. My mom was scared too, and she said that she was scared, and I didn't think it would do the two of us any good for BOTH of us to be scared, so I pretended like I wasn't scared and I took this photo to be like, "ha, ha, look at us, we're having fun on an airplane," but now that I'm safe and sound and on the ground, I can admit that I was out of my wits.

When the plane landed, all of the passengers erupted into applause--that's how scary the turbulance was. True story.

#6: Ronald Reagon Washington National Airport, Washington D.C., 8:29 p.m.

Never have I been so glad to see a non-descript airport tunnel. We're in Washington D.C. now, so I've added three hours to my camera's timestamps to account for East Coast time.

#7: Washington D.C., 9:03 p.m.

My cousins Sue and Ellie picked us up at the airport. I tried to get a good photo of the Washinton Monument as we drove past it, but this was the best one I got.

#8: Washington D.C., 9:04 p.m.

And then I tried to get a good photo of the Lincoln Memorial as we were driving towards it, but this is the best one I got. Despite the shoddy photos (we were driving, after all), it was beautiful.

#9: Chevy Chase, Maryland, 9:27 p.m.

Arriving at the home of Sue, Alan, Ellie, and Scott. Family reunion time.

#10: Sue and Alan's living room, 9:56 p.m.

That's my mom, my step-grandma, and my great-aunt Muriel.

#11: Sue and Alan's kitchen, 10:46 p.m.

That's Granny Joanny teaching Uncle Bobby and cousins Steffani and Taylor how to do that twisting-your-middle-fingers-through-your-hands trick. You know the one.

#12: Basement make-shift bedroom, 12:10 a.m.

The end of a long day. I was about to collapse. My cousin Taylor snapped this photo in the mirror, just before her mom yelled for her to go brush her teeth.

I just took two Tylenol PM

2007-07-13T22:57:00.000-07:00

Am I the only one who just realized that we have the power to vote for who's going to be on the next season of The Real World, and we only have four more days to get our vote on??? And seriously, is everyone else out there as excited about this as I am? We have to use our power wisely and vote in crazy-ass people who are gonna be good drama on the Challenges.

(If you're not obsessed with MTV, then this post probably reads like another language to you, and I apologize for that.) (I almost wrote "and I apologize to that.") (Which would have been a weird thing to say, but I kind of like it.) (Not that it makes any sense.)

(Remember that thing I posted about Jell-O a couple of days ago? That didn't really make any sense either.)

(It's because I have a terrible cold and between yesterday and today and the day before yesterday, I've literally blown a gallon of snot out of my nose.) (My cousin Ilene gave me a Michael J. Fox movies-on-DVD collection today and it was the greatest early-birthday present ever.) (He is so hot it's out of control.) (Especially in the photo they used for the DVD box cover.) (I defy you to look at that box cover and not think that Michael J. Fox is the definition of hotness.) (Thank you, Ilene. Maybe you didn't give me an available gay man for my birthday, but the Michael J. Fox movies are a close second.)

(Oh, by the way, I'm in Washington D.C. right now, at a family reunion, and this is basically the first time I've been online in two days, and it's weird to be away from the internet for such a long period.) (I mean, okay, I did use my cousin's computer to read a few of my daily blog reads, but besides that, I've been completely off-line, and that's been strange.) (I think maybe I have an addiction to the internet.) (Like, if three hours go by and I haven't checked my email, I feel a little kink in my back.) (Not a literal kink, a metaphorical one.) (Oh my god I can't stop staring at Michael J. Fox.)

orange Jell-O, blue hand

2007-07-11T19:23:00.000-07:00

I'm such a bad cook that I don't even know how to make Jell-O correctly, apparently. How do you fuck up making Jell-O? I thought it was going to be the most simple thing to make. And, fine, yes, I made it and it's Jell-O, but there's barely any there. The damned box says it makes enough for four servings, and maybe I'm a pig, but still--there's no way this is supposed to be four servings:

In other, completely non-Jell-O related news, I was driving home from Rite-Aid earlier today, trying to open a plastic container, and using a Bic pen to open said plastic container, and instead of opening the freaking plastic container I broke the fucking pen and spilled blue ink all over my hand, and I've washed my hand, like, seven times, but it's still kinda blue.

Team Avril

2007-07-10T12:14:00.000-07:00

I don't think she's getting enough support, so I just wanted to put out into the universe that I am on Team Avril. Am I so completely blinded by my love for her poppily infectious summer tune that I can't see what's to all of the people who are on Team Rubinoos the most obvious rip-off ever? Because seriously, I don't think the songs sound even one iota similar. I just don't hear it, I don't get it.

Judge for yourself.

Here's the rocking kick-ass Avril song (and I realize that I'm a punk for thinking Avril's kick-ass) (and not the kind of punk that Avril labels herself as) (the kind of punk that's, like, lame) (more Brewster than Daft) (as in Punky Brewster) (but whatevs cuz that's the way I roll) (I love the song and I'm not ashamed to admit it):

And here's the hum-drum, so-so Rubinoos song that (IMHO) sounds nothing like it:

Weighed all the evidence? Okay, now take this dandy poll:

Gab--speaking of "Mortified," this is for you.

2007-07-10T02:19:00.000-07:00

I'm still sorting through boxes in the garage (I'm almost through all of them, but of course there are, like, 700 boxes because I've never thrown anything away in my entire life, so that's why it's taking me forever) and one of the boxes I went through tonight had my high school diary in it. I don't know if anyone else is gonna find this thing funny, but as I read through the book tonight I was in pain from laughing so goddamned much. Like, my stomach physically hurts. This diary is from when I was seventeen and you can tell that I thought I was SO WORLDLY, but the entire book is so sweet and naive I can't stand it. I can tell from the way I worded things that I was writing for an audience--I remember thinking that someday I would become famous and then I would die and then people would scour through all of my diaries to learn more about me (and, of course, use my diaries as source material for my future biographies) and I remember writing my diary FOR THOSE PEOPLE. The people who were gonna study me after my death.

My diary's first entry is sorta like a prologue:

APRIL 18, 1994:

It's Monday. This book was a Christmas present. I'm going to use it as a journal, to express my thoughts, jot down ideas, write down significant instances, memories, or whatever comes to my head. I'm sleeping on the couch bed tonight. We have guests from France, Gaby and Frederick. They're very nice people and I'm getting a chance to practice my French. I'm doing better than I thought I would.

I would love to go to France. I want to go everywhere, see everything. I want to go back to New York. That's a story that I'll save for a later time.

I got my driver's liscence (sic) about 12 days ago. It feels great to get in the car on my own and drive. I'd love to be able to just drive anywhere, and to find someplace new. Just to see as much as possible.

*

Okay, that was the first entry. I was older than all of the other kids in my class (because I took kindergarten twice), but reading through this diary makes me feel like I was a young 17. So bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and innocent. I'm going to transcribe one more entry (entry #2) and then it's time for bed. (The weird thing about this next entry is that I was talking to my friend Mandy the other day and she mentioned that she was about to drive through Pennsylvania and then we started talking about the Amish and I totally told her the story that I tell in this diary entry. Like, I literally JUST told this story because this moment with this Amish girl was so vivid that it's stuck with me all of these years.) (Oh, and the other thing I love about this next entry is how full of myself I am--for instance, when I'm suddenly like "hello, world, let me tell you why eye contact is important," you can practically smell how profound I thought I was being.)

*

JULY 14, 1994:

It's summer. I'm at my Dad's house until school starts, which is great because I don't get to see them as often as I'd like to during the school year. I get so busy that I hardly see them at all. I love them a lot. My brothers are great. Josh saw some butterflies mating and he told Patty: "Mom, they're having the S word." He's taking an acting class and they're having a recital tomorrow. It's exciting to see him get into acting because I was his main influence to try it. It feels nice to have someone look up to you. Emulation is great. Matt is into sports, which isn't exactly my forte. He wears is heart on his shoulder and he is really sweet. He's a good kid and I hope that none of that "middle child" stuff gets in the way of him doing what he wants. Then there's Mike, who's the cutest kid you ever set eyes on. He's so cute that he gets away with murder.

Me? I'm the fourth brother, the oldest brother, I want to be a writer, I want to be an actor. I would lie if I said I didn't strive for fame and fortune. I do. Sometimes I'll stay up late at night thinking up my Oscar or Tony acceptance speech (sometimes for writing, sometimes for acting, sometimes for even both!) I want to do it all. One of my major goals in life: To see almost every country in the world. (Adult Erik's note: I like how I said I wanted to see "almost" every country, like, I know I'm never gonna see EVERY one, so let's make a reasonable goal here.) I want to experience every culture, every language there is to experience.

In our "travels," my mom, Joe, and I saw an Amish Community. It was wonderful, free. They don't have any technological interferences that intrude on our lives. Their lives are so simple. I envy them, but realistically I know that I would die without what I have. I would enjoy the simple life for a while and then I would want more. When we were driving through this Amish Community, we drove by this Amish horse-driven carraige. There was this beautiful young Amish girl with her mother, she looked to be about my age. The two of us made eye-contact, and as we passed our eyes remained locked. We both turned around and watched each other disappear, going to separate worlds. I saw in her eyes a longing for more. I could tell that she felt trapped. I wanted to turn around and go rescue her. But I couldn't. Call me sentimental, but the picture of that Amish girl--that beautiful, young Amish girl, is still freash in my mind. Our eyes are forever interlocked, looking deep into each other, wanting what the other has. I would love to speak to her, but I feel as if I already know her, just from that look.

(Oh my god, this is soooooo painful, but it gets worse: here's the part where I go off on the importance of eye contact.)

Eye contact is extremely important to human connection. (See, I told you I was going to talk about how important it is. But wait, I went on.) The eyes are the gateways to the soul. All of our life comes from our eyes. They are so powerful. (I would be less embarrased if this diary--or "journal," as I called it--had been written in elementary school, or even middle school. But no, I was seventeen when I jotted these profoundly profound words down.) Eye contact is very important in acting, which is probably why I'm comfortable with it. (Um, implying that you were SUCH a great actor that you are SO comfortable with eye contact? Oh my god, I was so full of myself!) Sometimes I'll be having a conversation with smoeone and I'll notice them averting my eyes, as if they can't handle it. Without eye contact it is impossible to connect to a person. This is why I hate sunglasses so much. They put a wall in front of that connection. They hide your soul. This has created a conflict in my mind because I have recently become in the need of wearing sunglasses. My contact lenses are sometimes very sensitive to sunlight and I've begun to wear sunglasses for this reason. Fortunately, I only wear them in the car when the sun is bright. Sunglasses are really for people who are afraid to connect. They are the perfect hiding place. I wonder what that says about Jack Nicholson??? (I can't tell if this is a genuine question or if I'm trying to be funny here. Either way, I look like a moron.)

As I walk up to the podium I must not forget to thank two very important people in my life. First, Diane Doyle. With her Young Conservatory program at SCR, she has provided me with the best learning experience of my life thus far. (I still love Diane. She totally got me out of my shell when I was ten and I probably wouldn't have ever gotten involved in theater if it hadn't been for her.) She is a wonderful teacher, director, person, and she is the reason I became an actor. And second, Terri Foster. Also a wonderful teacher. She made me love learning when I had her for 5th grade and she made me love writing when I had her for 8th grade Honors English. She is the best teacher I've ever experienced learning from. ("Ever experienced learning from"?!?!?? That's sentence doesn't really show a very good grasp on the English language, especially for a sentence that's trying to thank an English teacher for being the best teacher ever.)

(Okay, wait, I know I keep saying that certain parts of this diary entry are my favorite part, but this next paragraph is seriously my favorite paragraph. Remember, I was seventeen.)

Confession: This week I joined a gym and a tanning salon. My dad wanted me too, but I think I'll like them. I want my body to look good. Acting is such a "looks" conscious business that it only helps. I hope that I can stay with it and beef up a bit, but not too much. Just enough for it to look like I'm strong, but that I don't work out. I'm not so sure about tanning, but it IS relaxing and I've always wanted to have a tan, besides that farmers one that I've always had.

I want to learn how to play the piano, too, and the guitar. Two goals.

*

That's the end of the second entry. I'm going to stop there for now, but I promise you the diary gets way more embarrassing. I go on to talk about girls I like and I shit you not: the diary entry for May 6th, 1995 is all about how "Shirley is the only girl who has ever physically touched my penis." (Apparently other girls had touched my penis in a non-physical way, but Shirley was the only one who had ever touched-it touched-it.)

interview with Rachel Kann, author of "10 for everything"

2007-07-05T13:09:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I've been trying to figure out what I want to do with this little corner of the internet that I've carved out for myself with "My Year of New Things," and the plan right now is to forge forward without a plan and to post whatever I wanna post, which I suppose is what I've always been doing. So enough ado about that, and on with the show:

My very good friend Rachel Kann recently had her first collection of fiction published: "10 for everything." If you saw either of my recent productions at Theatre of NOTE--Yellow Flesh/Alabaster Rose, or Red Light, Green Light--you'll remember Rachel from her L.A. Weekly Award winning performance as Rose (pictured below, with Alan Loayza):

She's written a beautiful book and I've been trying to figure out how I could help spread the word (you can purchase a copy of her book here), and I ended up doing an interview with Rachel this morning over IMs. The interview is long and rambly and hopefully entertaining. Enjoy!

*

Erik (10:28:54 AM): can i just start this interview by saying how much i love your book?
Erik (10:29:01 AM): LOVE IT
Rachel (10:29:16 AM): of course. because i love compliments as much as you love my book!
Rachel (10:29:22 AM): THANK YOU
Erik (10:29:35 AM): i feel like a total fanboy right now, talking to one of my idols. seriously.
Rachel (10:29:47 AM): that seriously means so much because there are very VERY few writers i admire as much as you
Rachel (10:29:59 AM): this is a fucking circle jerk
Erik (10:30:06 AM): i know, okay, starting the interview for real.
Rachel (10:30:16 AM): ok
Erik (10:32:21 AM): but I want to start the interview with a couple more circle jerky “i love you” things that i just have to say
Erik (10:32:26 AM): Beginning:
Rachel (10:32:32 AM): ok
Erik (10:33:09 AM): I'm so impressed by how effortlessly (from my pov) you've transitioned from poetry to fiction. your stories are still so poetic, but they have such a strong narrative drive too.
Erik (10:33:23 AM): Reminds me of writers like toni morrison and sandra cisneros
Rachel (10:33:32 AM): thanks so much
Rachel (10:33:45 AM): that is ridiculously flattering.
Erik (10:34:16 AM): but true. when did you start writing fiction? have you been doing it on the downlow forever, or did you start with these stories?
Rachel (10:35:58 AM): its very very recent. its been exactly one and a half years since i wrote my first short story
(barring high school creative writing class)the first short story i ever wrote is "disappearing".here's how it all happened:
Rachel (10:36:35 AM): i received a community access scholarship from PEN West to take 3 classes at UCLA extension.
Rachel (10:36:55 AM): I have never taken any writing classes before that!
Erik (10:37:02 AM): (that's crazy!)
Rachel (10:37:12 AM): you have to take the classes one trimester at a time, 3 in a row
Rachel (10:38:00 AM): (i could never afford the luxury of a writing class...believe me, it wasn't by choice! in college, i did not even know i wanted to write yet!)
Rachel (10:38:33 AM): ok, so FIRST...i took poetry class...i figured i should...being that i had already been a poet for like, 10 freaking years!
Rachel (10:39:28 AM): it was a great experience...but when it came to register for class number 2, i started thinking...hmm...this is a great opportunity to try something NEW...and my new year's resolution was to do things that scared the crap out of me, as long as there was no clear and present danger
Rachel (10:39:43 AM): not unlike "my year of new things"!
Erik (10:40:17 AM): (hey, it's ain't a bad resolution. we should all keep doing things we're afraid of. it's the only way to grow.)
Rachel (10:40:28 AM): so...i have always LOVED reading fiction, esp short stories, but had been terrified of writing fiction...it just seemed so LONG
Rachel (10:40:45 AM): (its the best resolution ever! are u kidding??)
Rachel (10:40:59 AM): and dialogue scared the crap out of me too
Rachel (10:41:09 AM): so i decided to take a short story class next
Rachel (10:41:14 AM): and dig this...
Rachel (10:41:39 AM): i hadn't read any of the teachers stuff yet at UCLA ex who were teaching that semester
Rachel (10:41:55 AM): so i started trolling around the sites and blogs of the teachers
Rachel (10:42:06 AM): and i found....tod goldberg
Rachel (10:42:19 AM): who had a special section of his blog called...
Rachel (10:42:25 AM): wait for it...
Rachel (10:42:32 AM): JEWS EATING PORK
Rachel (10:42:37 AM): it's amazing
Erik (10:42:34 AM): brilliant
Erik (10:42:35 AM): so YOU
Rachel (10:43:04 AM): its all pics of jew friends of his caught in the act, pics of them with ribs and bacon and shit
Rachel (10:43:12 AM): i signed up immediately
Erik (10:43:12 AM): i was just gonna ask if it was literally what it says it is
Rachel (10:43:37 AM): and then when i got there, to his class, i realized he was a total rock star
Erik (10:43:34 AM): are there a pic of you on his site now??? of you eating pork??? (and what are you eating?)
Rachel (10:44:09 AM): there were people there on the waiting list and all these hot girls dressed all cute working that angle, and it was like, an advanced class i had lied to get into
Rachel (10:44:51 AM): (i have not yet had the opportunity to eat pork with tod while he had a camera...a girl can dream...)
Rachel (10:44:55 AM): anyway
Erik (10:45:07 AM): (yes, anyway, enough about pork, back to the topic)
Rachel (10:45:16 AM): so after the first night of class, i was like "dude, i think i might be outta my league"
Rachel (10:45:44 AM): and i totally fessed up that i had never written fiction before
Rachel (10:45:55 AM): and lied to get in his class
Rachel (10:46:09 AM): and he was like, "no stay in class, just let me know if u need help"
Rachel (10:46:21 AM): and he was amazing, and totally supportive, and HILARIOUS
Rachel (10:46:54 AM): and by the way, i finally read his work, and i can not recommend his short story collection "simplify" highly enough
Rachel (10:47:04 AM): it is hilarious and dark and twisted
Rachel (10:47:15 AM): so yeah, anyway
Rachel (10:47:43 AM): it was in his class that i wrote "disappearing" which is in "10 for everything"
Rachel (10:48:20 AM): why did i decide to write my first short story ever in 2nd person? because i am like that!
Rachel (10:48:39 AM): i have centered a lot of my work around breaking rules. it’s so fun.
Rachel (10:50:38 AM): and then that story won a james kirkwood award last year from UCLA. it was nominated by Rob Roberge, my next short story teacher, who Tod recommended i study with next, and is also AMAZING and i can not stay enough good things about. He also is dark and twisted and people should check out "More Than They Could Chew" by him. It’s great.
Erik (10:51:15 AM): re: your comment about writing it in 2nd person--what's wonderful about your voice in that story is that it's almost like the narrator is URGING Nita (the story's protagonist) into action
Rachel (10:51:38 AM): So luckily i had these two amazing supportive teachers in a row, who got my sensibilties, and i think it is good karma, a re-balancing from all the asinine teacgers i have previously had in my life, growing up in san luis obispo
Rachel (10:52:11 AM): yes. i really liked it. for me, it was a distancing technique that helped me feel less vulnerable.
Rachel (10:53:02 AM): coming from poetry, writing in the "i" as someone else felt alarming. like i kept wanting to put disclaimers saying "i didn't really DO this, its just made-up fiction, everyone!"
Erik (10:53:08 AM): ha
Rachel (10:53:31 AM): so it was a nice way to ease myself in...and feel contrarian and punk rock for breaking a rule
Rachel (10:54:07 AM): so yeah, nearly ALL the stories, except a very few were written in tod or rob classes
Erik (10:54:36 AM): that must have felt strange to wrap yourself in someone else's skin after writing poetry for so long and being so intensely PERSONAL in your writing.
Rachel (10:54:55 AM): it felt AMAZING
Rachel (10:55:07 AM): especially writing in first person as a man
Erik (10:55:26 AM): not that the short stories aren't personal, but to go from the "i" to all of these different people...one of the things i love about the book so much is that you really DO capture all of these different voices so well. ESPECIALLY the men
Rachel (10:56:07 AM): the second story i ever wrote, also in tod's class was "the historian" and i will say this...i definitely always thought poetry had to be the most therapeutic form of writing
Rachel (10:56:13 AM): NO FUCKING way
Rachel (10:56:19 AM): fiction, baby
Rachel (10:56:37 AM): getting in someone's head and trying to figure out what makes them tick
Rachel (10:56:41 AM): it’s great
Rachel (10:56:48 AM): i thought of you often
Rachel (10:57:01 AM): as you are one of my favorite playwrights ever
Erik (10:57:13 AM): THANK YOU, but this interview is not about me
Rachel (10:57:22 AM): and creating a character in your head, giving them dialogue, and then hearing someone else speak it
Rachel (10:57:27 AM): crazy!
Rachel (10:57:32 AM): brilliant
Erik (10:58:30 AM): but back to the thing about it being therapeutic, it totally IS because you get to use and abuse all of your relationships, everything that you don't GET or UNDERSTAND about the people you love, you can put it into fiction, and then it isn't them anymore, but you can still work through the shit you have with them
Erik (10:58:34 AM): if that makes any sense
Rachel(10:59:12 AM): of course it makes perfect sense
Rachel (11:00:04 AM): something i always did as a poet was kind of dissociate myself while writing a highly personal thing and then a few years LATER be like, yeah, that was my shit
Rachel (11:00:12 AM): or DO as a poet
Rachel (11:00:24 AM): i know i am doing it, it just helps
Rachel (11:00:28 AM): but FICTION
Rachel (11:00:35 AM): i can just make it ALL up
Rachel (11:00:57 AM): because the emotional kernel is the same. we all go through the same shit, ya know?
Erik (11:00:55 AM): yes, you have that freedom
Rachel (11:01:08 AM): i love it
Erik (11:01:07 AM): yes, you start with the emotional kernel and then you can just dig in
Erik (11:01:09 AM): That day when we had lunch at the 101 and you showed me your book for the first time, when I read a few of your stories out loud, it was exciting because you have a natural ear for dialogue--and i think that comes from all of your years as a spoken word poet. the dialogue feels like how people speak. it IS how people speak.
Rachel (11:01:41 AM): it's wild how terrified i was of writing dialogue for so long
Erik (11:01:46 AM): Have you performed any of these stories? Have you read them at shows?
Rachel (11:02:10 AM): hearing people read my dialogue aloud is orgasmically fun. it’s the best thing ever.
Rachel (11:02:19 AM): yes! here is how that started.
Rachel (11:02:40 AM): a year and a few months ago, i had a show at beyond baroque at about 7pm.
Rachel (11:03:40 AM): i was at a bbq, and a lil' buzzed, and totally forgot i had a show! i remembered and got there in time, but as i do my poetry memorized, that just did not seem like the best idea. and i had some of my short stories in the car with me from class.
Rachel (11:03:49 AM): and i just said "fuck it"
Rachel (11:03:55 AM): and read some fiction
Rachel (11:04:08 AM): and it went over great, and i really enjoyed it
Rachel (11:04:12 AM): and...
Rachel (11:04:15 AM): AND
Rachel (11:04:31 AM): an angel in my life, miss julia bemiss, was in the audience.
Rachel (11:06:18 AM): and she really enjoyed it. and she told marie lecrivain, also an angel in my life, who happens to be from Sybaritic Press, and she came to a bunch of my next shows, and after seeing me read like, 6 stories or so, at show after show, offered me a book deal! so that is how "10 for everything" came to be. so thank goodness i got buzzed and read short stories aloud.
Erik (11:06:40 AM): thank goodness for alcohol!
Erik (11:06:44 AM): speaking of which...
Erik (11:06:53 AM): (you'll appreciate this segue)
Erik (11:07:27 AM): i've noticed (and you've mentioned to me) that every story in your book has a "featured alcholic beverage," if you will
Rachel (11:07:50 AM): yes...it's crazy!
Erik (11:07:47 AM): which i think is so funny
Rachel (11:07:56 AM): very nice segue
Rachel (11:08:01 AM): me too!
Rachel (11:08:24 AM): especially because i really don't drink, like, hardly at all! but my characters sure do!
Erik (11:08:26 AM): and then I was listening to Pretty Talk earlier today (one of my favorite poems of yours) and i noticed the "bacardi, ramone, and coke" reference
Rachel (11:08:39 AM): and you will appreciate THIS segue
Rachel (11:08:43 AM): AHAHAHHAAHAHAAAAAA
Rachel (11:08:58 AM): its bacardi LIMON
Rachel (11:09:02 AM): hahahahahahah
Erik (11:09:06 AM): see, i am SUCH a bad drinker
Rachel (11:09:12 AM): please keep this ALL in
Erik (11:09:15 AM): i've always thought that you said RAMONE
Rachel (11:09:21 AM): this has to stay in the interview
Erik (11:09:25 AM): and I thought that was some sort of alcohol
Erik (11:09:27 AM): I SWEAR
Rachel (11:09:38 AM): hahahahahahaah
Erik (11:09:54 AM): i thought it was three beverages, Bacardi, Ramone, and Coke
Erik (11:10:02 AM): thank god i've never tried to order it!
Rachel (11:12:56 AM): anyway, yeah, my characters often drink. and so i was thinking for the book release, i wanted it to be able to feature all the booze from the story. and a bar seemed too hectic for drinking games...so i am having a massive book release backyard party at my friend jen swain's beautiful yard, and we will have southern comfort and sunkist, bacardi wine coolers, sangria, etc etc...all the story drinks will be there. its gonna be august 4th, and people should check http://myspace.com/rachelkann for upcoming deets about that as they get firmed up. but its definitely august 4th, its definitely gonna be a blast, its definitely gonna be hours long with lots of music and bands and fun.
Erik (11:15:04 AM): ok, that's brilliant, i will totally be there, and i'll probably get drunk off my ass. i wanted to ask you if that was a conscious thing, the drink references? A lot of the characters in your stories are trying NOT to be vulnerable, or to let the cracks in their armor show...and we all kind of revert to our truest, basest selves when we drink...so i think it's perfect that you've explored the moments when these people end up at their emotionally weakest/vulnerable.
Rachel (11:18:35 AM): yes. it was totally not intentional...but it's how my fucked up characters get vulnerable. you got it. not always, but often enough! i drank like FISH in high school, and pretty much got it out of my system then. thank god. and i also bartended and cocktail waitressed for years. so its part of my consciousness. p.s. there will air mattresses in the yard at the party so people can rest and sober up before they drive. HOLLER! JEN SWAIN ROCKS! i also want to give props to eric from the band idiot brother who will be playing at the party and planning the event with me and jen.
Erik (11:19:13 AM): speaking of high school...
Rachel (11:19:26 AM): hahahaha
Erik (11:19:40 AM): what was it like growing up in san luis obispo and how did it influence you as a writer?
Rachel (11:20:24 AM): growing up in san luis obispo was stifling to say the least
Rachel (11:20:39 AM): i can appreciate it now for its beauty etc
Rachel (11:20:43 AM): and i had fun
Rachel (11:20:48 AM): but shit man
Erik (11:21:04 AM): you had to fucking get out
Rachel (11:21:18 AM): let's just say...kids in small towns are WAY more out of control than in normal towns
Rachel (11:21:24 AM): and also
Rachel (11:21:35 AM): here are some highlights that make my point
Rachel (11:22:26 AM): i got kicked out of honors science my freshman year, because my teacher and i got in a fight about whether life could exist on other planets. and the fucker brought up GOD
Rachel (11:23:03 AM): the football team at my school spit on the AIDS quilt when it came to visit our school, at their coaches behest
Erik (11:23:11 AM): holy crap
Rachel (11:23:16 AM): i used to have swastikas carved in my desk
Rachel (11:23:23 AM): etc etc etc
Rachel (11:23:28 AM): hahaha
Erik (11:23:36 AM): like i said, you had to fucking get out
Erik (11:23:49 AM): AND you totally just made this interview so depressing.
Rachel (11:24:02 AM): i recommend "i want to be a cowboy" by the vandals for anyone who would like to know the archetype of people i grew up around
Rachel (11:24:11 AM): haha fuck u
Rachel (11:24:16 AM): it was awesome
Rachel (11:24:22 AM): i was this bizarre mix
Rachel (11:24:52 AM): i would be in like, doc martens and striped knee highs with black eyeliner and an ice-t t-shirt
Erik (11:25:13 AM): brilliant image
Rachel (11:25:21 AM): but make no mistake, i was making out with the hot open minded football players under the bleachers
Rachel (11:26:01 AM): i had my little crew. specifically, me and heathie and biff, these three goth girls. me with my hip hop twist
Erik (11:26:08 AM): see, i would have traded you newport beach for san luis obispo in a heartbeat if it meant i could have made out with the hot open minded football players under the bleachers
Rachel (11:26:23 AM): HOLLER!
Erik (11:27:04 AM): we would have totally been friends in high school. were you a theater geek back then, too?
Rachel (11:27:17 AM): OF COURSE!
Rachel (11:27:39 AM): i was desperately searching for fags to hag onto, and that is where they are!
Rachel (11:28:18 AM): i was actually already producing crazy variety shows in the theatre, which was really just 2 classrooms with the wall knocked down between them
Rachel (11:29:24 AM): i would put on drag pieces. i remember a particularly glorious drag cinderella piece. and would do raunchy shit from lysistrata, and just be like..."but its classical theatre!"
Rachel (11:29:41 AM): i was SUCH a faghag from such a young age.
Erik (11:29:45 AM): nice, SO san luis subversive
Rachel (11:30:02 AM): i was raised by a wonderful faghag mother, and started taking dance at 3.

Rachel (11:30:58 AM): my parents, who grew up in ny, would scour the city for anyone of any other ethnicity, any gay people, anything non-christian, and make friends with them so we could be around them
Erik (11:31:12 AM): i love your parents
Rachel (11:31:28 AM): yes, my parents are the shit
Erik (11:31:35 AM): okay, so you were producing shows back then, but you weren't writing yet. when did you start writing poetry? you said you didn't start writing until after college, right? was that when you were living in New York?
Rachel (11:33:27 AM): yes. i was really just producing so i could act, and see 14 yr old boys do cinderella in drag. make no mistake.
Rachel (11:34:42 AM): i started writing in nyc. i was at a jesus christ superstar audition and met amy steinberg, who became a dear friend, and she straight up nagged me into writing poetry. she spent a year telling me i had the weirdest way with words, and telling me to write some poems. and eventually i did.
Erik (11:35:16 AM): Thank you, Amy Steinberg
Rachel (11:35:45 AM): i know. that is a true angelic blessing as well. right?
Erik (11:35:54 AM): YES. Okay, there's totally no segue here, but I want to get back to your book.
Rachel (11:36:09 AM): word
Erik (11:36:12 AM): Can we talk about your story "therapy" for a minute?
Rachel (11:36:45 AM): of course. in fact, after this interview i am on my way to teach some incarcerated girls.
Erik (11:37:38 AM): for anyone reading this who hasn't read rachel's book (and what are you waiting for, go buy it!), "therapy" is told from the pov of a sixteen-year-old pregnant juvie girl, and i was blown away by it
Rachel (11:38:20 AM): thank u
Erik (11:39:21 AM): it's so raw and true and i know you have a lot of experience teaching juvie girls--it's obvious, because i don't think that's a voice that can just be "made up," you have to have some experience there--have you shown that story to any of the girls you teach?
Rachel (11:39:52 AM): no no no
Rachel (11:40:18 AM): it just would not be appropriate...in terms of the rules i am forced to follow by the non-profits i work for.
Rachel (11:40:30 AM): it’s too bad. i would love to know what they think
Erik (11:41:00 AM): that makes sense. can you talk about your teaching experience with them?
Rachel (11:41:07 AM): i am not even allowed to curse, or talk about violence, or show any sort of sympathy towards a character who would exhibit those behaviors.
Rachel (11:41:54 AM): which of course, i think i show great love for the narrator in that story. i love her. and i want readers to understand how people sometimes do things other people find monstrous.
Rachel (11:42:20 AM): yes. i have been teaching incarcerated kids (and non-incarcerated sometimes, too!)
Rachel (11:42:28 AM): for like, 7 years now
Erik (11:42:28 AM): i get that, absolutely--your love for that character is evident
Rachel (11:42:34 AM): crazy.
Rachel (11:42:49 AM): it’s amazing, exhausting, fulfilling work
Rachel (11:43:05 AM): it’s really uplifting and depressing all at once
Rachel (11:43:24 AM): i have thought and thought and thought about this stuff for a long time
Rachel (11:43:49 AM): a lot of these kids...they have done things that i would HATE them for in another circumstance
Rachel (11:43:57 AM): and what i realize is...
Rachel (11:44:19 AM): it’s all about context
Rachel (11:45:06 AM): if some kid raped and murdered my sister...i could not go in there and be like "you have a voice, you are love, you are accountable, you have something to say, and i wanna give you the tools to say it"
Rachel (11:45:40 AM): but it WASN'T my sister. thank god. and somebody needs to tell these kids these humans, they are more than the sum of their actions.
Erik (11:45:44 AM): that's totally what my play He Asked For It is about!
Erik (11:46:39 AM): And I completely agree with you, it's about context. We don't do enough in our jail and juvie systems to HELP the people who've derailed get back on the right fucking tracks.
Erik (11:47:15 AM): Thank god that those girls have YOU going in there, telling them that they have a voice, you know?
Rachel (11:47:23 AM): it’s our only hope. It’s their only hope. and if i was a painter, or a chef, i would probably still be in there, teaching kids how to sketch or make omelettes. any form of creative self expression. but let's keep it real. i am no martyr. it’s my day job. i am blessed to feel like my work might help reach someone. rather than being, "do you want fries with that?" cuz that could just as easily be my job.
Rachel (11:49:12 AM): but i do hope to one day be rich and self sufficient as an artist. and if that ever happens, believe me, i will be taking some time to travel and live the glamorous glamorous life like fergie. but i will totally come back and volunteer. after i have been glamorous glamorous for a while
Erik (11:50:02 AM): I feel like we're both sixteen-year-old girls right now, being all optimisitic about how we can change the world and shit, but i agree with you: we need to do our part, in whatever way we can...and you don't just do that by teaching, but you do that with your writing too.
Rachel (11:50:27 AM): i hope i get financially solvent one day. it’s so fucking stressful being broke. i want to get to the part of life where i am on david letterman's couch laughing about being broke. i want to be carrie bradshaw still. and that show is off the air already!
Erik (11:50:44 AM): wait, when you mentioned fergie right now, i think maybe you were talking about black eyed peas fergie, but i was picturing duchess of york fergie
Rachel (11:50:58 AM): i want to marry mr big
Rachel (11:51:12 AM): THEY ARE THE SAME PERSON ITS A CONSPIRACY hahahah
Erik (11:51:22 AM): damn, and i want to be charlotte york sitting on a couch with my harry goldenblatt
Erik (11:51:37 AM): and we can go out and eat expensive food together every night.
Rachel (11:51:43 AM): actually, fuck fergie and the black eyed peas by the way. listen to kim hill instead, everyone.
Rachel (11:51:51 AM): amazing.
Rachel (11:52:06 AM): i want to fuck smith also
Erik (11:52:04 AM): supposedly, they're, like, minutes away from greenlighting the Sex and the City MOVIE, by the way.
Rachel (11:52:24 AM): its a go. they just said so on the news this morning
Rachel (11:52:38 AM): i'm nervous about it
Erik (11:52:35 AM): when we're rich like fergie, the duchess of york (not peas), then we can all fuck Smith.
Rachel (11:52:51 AM): it seems like the titanic...how can it stay aloat?
Erik (11:52:57 AM): I'm nervous too, they ended the show so perfectly, why mess with it?
Rachel (11:53:06 AM): i really want it to be good
Erik (11:53:04 AM): I mean, I am dying for the movie, but still
Rachel (11:53:15 AM): i know
Erik (11:53:12 AM): That last episode was SOOOO good
Rachel (11:53:24 AM): i just want to be carrie
Rachel (11:53:34 AM): i know!
Rachel (11:53:59 AM): i used to hate carrie so much for fucking aidan over that it was ridiculous. i hate cheating
Erik (11:53:57 AM): with carrie running through the streets of paris and just missing Big and the MC Solaire music underscoring it, and then Miranda running through the streets trying to find Steve's mom!
Rachel (11:54:12 AM): but i just watched all the episodes again recently
Erik (11:54:13 AM): i watch them all the time.
Rachel (11:54:19 AM): i know...so good
Erik (11:54:29 AM): i actually like Aidan better than Big, but she fucked him over too much.
Rachel (11:55:04 AM): i hate cheating
Erik (11:55:13 AM): That moment when they're both dressed in black and white like they're about to get married and standing by that huge fountain and he asks her to marry him and she says she can't and he says "I can't believe we're here again."
Rachel (11:55:29 AM): i know
Erik (11:55:28 AM): killer
Rachel (11:55:38 AM): she is so weird
Rachel (11:56:04 AM): but i KIND OF understand more these days. but...BOO to cheating
Erik (11:56:04 AM): okay, since we've now completely gotten off topic, i want to play a game of Cliff with you.
Rachel (11:56:15 AM): ok
Erik (11:56:10 AM): do you know the game?
Rachel (11:56:20 AM): know
Rachel (11:56:24 AM): o mean no
Rachel (11:56:30 AM): i mean no
Rachel (11:56:34 AM): HAHAHHAA
Erik (11:56:58 AM): I give you three names, you pick one to sleep with, one to live with, and one to throw off a cliff. you cannot sleep with the person you live with.
Rachel (11:57:41 AM): its called "fuck marry kill" and howard stern invented it and of course i know this game
Rachel (11:57:52 AM): let's go
Rachel (11:57:57 AM): its on
Erik (11:57:53 AM): ok, NO, in SOME circles it's called fuck marry kill
Erik (11:58:09 AM): but i learned the game in fucking London in 1998 and in London it's fucking called Cliff
Rachel (11:58:15 AM): HOWARD STERN INVENTED IT AND HE NEVER GETS HIS PROPS
Erik (11:58:11 AM): okay
Erik (11:58:14 AM): HE DID NOT
Rachel (11:58:20 AM): okay
Erik (11:58:19 AM): WHEN?
Rachel (11:58:23 AM): FINE
Erik (11:58:21 AM): I WANT PROOF
Rachel (11:58:32 AM): in the 80s
Erik (11:58:33 AM): sorry, ok, maybe he invented it, give him props, FINE
Erik (11:58:38 AM): since we're on the topic of Sex and the City: I'll start with...Steve, Aidan, Big
Rachel (11:58:49 AM): i always play the sexual fortune game and i always give u props by the way
Rachel (11:58:53 AM): ok
Erik (11:59:05 AM): ok, thank you, thank you, so we will give Howard props for inventing Fuck, Marry, Kill
Rachel (11:59:10 AM): marry big, fuck aidan, kill steve
Erik (11:59:16 AM): wow
Rachel (11:59:24 AM): i know that is shocking
Rachel (11:59:33 AM): but - big has the best apt
Erik (11:59:33 AM): i would marry steve, fuck aidan, kill big!
Rachel (11:59:43 AM): aidan is too white trash
Erik (11:59:45 AM): okay: Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte
Rachel (11:59:51 AM): and steve is WAY too short
Rachel (12:00:09 PM): kill charlotte, fuck carrie, marry samantha
Rachel (12:00:18 PM): again, i know it’s shocking
Erik (12:00:20 PM): Trent, Gordon Gano, Bjork
Erik (12:00:28 PM): (and obviously Trent is Trent Reznor)
Rachel (12:00:35 PM): actually, i might like to turn charlotte the fuck out
Rachel (12:00:41 PM): kill bjork
Rachel (12:00:46 PM): fuck gordon
Erik (12:00:54 PM): i knew you would kill bjork and it makes me sad.
Rachel (12:01:01 PM): even tho he is short, bjork is shorter still
Erik (12:01:06 PM): i also feel like you killed me when you killed charlotte
Rachel (12:01:15 PM): i just could not deal with her
Rachel (12:01:44 PM): bjork and charlotte...i would just be like "come ON are u KIDDING me?" the whole time
Rachel (12:01:53 PM): of course i would marry trent.

Rachel (12:02:03 PM): he is extremely short as well.
Rachel (12:02:09 PM): but he is trent
Rachel (12:02:23 PM): and i still think he might be the tallest of those three
Rachel (12:02:39 PM): no offense to short people here, i just feel like a moose all the time.
Erik (12:02:35 PM): I think Bjork would be a hoot to live with. (I mean, obviously I would think that, but still.) A friend of mine used to work as Bjork's personal assistant and she has this story about how they were eating breakfast and Bjork took the table cloth off the table and turned it into a gown, presto, on the spot, and then went out for the day
Rachel (12:03:01 PM): yeah, i would kill her for being too precious.
Rachel (12:03:10 PM): but i still love her
Rachel (12:03:26 PM): bachelorette is one of my favorite songs ever written on earth
Erik (12:03:37 PM): Ok, let's see: Bush, Cheney, Satan
Rachel (12:03:47 PM): if she was in fact on earth when she wrote it. hard to say.
Rachel (12:03:57 PM): ok.
Rachel (12:04:00 PM): fuck
Rachel (12:04:16 PM): cheney has to die, so does bush, obviously
Rachel (12:04:36 PM): but i would marry bush just to destroy him from the inside out
Rachel (12:04:41 PM): kill cheney
Erik (12:04:52 PM): Marry Satan, fuck bush, kill cheney. That's the way I'd go.
Rachel (12:04:59 PM): and fuck satan. i bet he can eat pussy real good.
Erik (12:05:01 PM): Totally.
Rachel (12:05:44 PM): ok i have to go teach! can u stand it? still have to get dressed. any last questions?
Erik (12:06:13 PM): One last question, along the lines of the Marry/Fuck/Kill game.
Rachel (12:06:30 PM): yes of course
Rachel (12:06:34 PM): hit me
Erik (12:06:49 PM): If you had to play Sophie's Choice (i.e. pick a favorite, which is obviously impossible, but that's why it's called Sophie's Choice) with the ten stories from your book, which would you choose?
Erik (12:07:40 PM): so hard, i know.
Rachel (12:08:09 PM): fuck
Rachel (12:08:20 PM): i can't
Erik (12:08:35 PM): but the nazis are about to shoot all of your stories and you have to save one.
Rachel (12:08:42 PM): but who i would most like to MEET is frank from disappearing and noa from the historian.
Rachel (12:08:53 PM): i really want to make out with both of them.
Rachel (12:09:00 PM): and they aren't real.
Erik (12:09:05 PM): ok, that's not answering the question, but it's still a good answer, so i'll accept it
Rachel (12:09:20 PM): um. it changes. right now i am kind of in love with "match"
Erik (12:09:59 PM): It was so much fun to interview you...now go get dressed and go teach!
Rachel (12:10:17 PM): every story in the book is a "love" story (HA), but this one is the only one about friend-love, between two teenage girls. and they actually find some resolution!
Erik (12:10:22 PM): I love "Match" too
Rachel (12:10:38 PM): ok. I LOVE YOU and you are AMAZING and one of my favorite writers on earth
Rachel (12:10:55 PM): i am so flattered to be interviewed by you.
Erik (12:10:55 PM): i'm not editing ANYTHING out of this interview by the way.
Rachel (12:11:02 PM): i am yer fan
Rachel (12:11:11 PM): u better not!
Rachel (12:11:32 PM): i forgot...i really wanna meeet skyler too
Rachel (12:11:42 PM): from "wesley"
Rachel (12:11:50 PM): how hot is he?
Rachel (12:12:10 PM): i walk around looking for frank, skyler, and noa.
Erik (12:12:09 PM): SO hot. I wanna meet him too. In fact, if you meet him, send him my way.
Rachel (12:12:19 PM): tell me if u meet them.
Rachel (12:12:24 PM): JINX!
Rachel (12:12:28 PM): ahahaha
Erik (12:12:24 PM): you owe me a coke.
Erik (12:12:25 PM): ha
Rachel (12:12:33 PM): xoxoxoxoxxo
Erik (12:12:32 PM): xoxoxo
Rachel (12:12:40 PM): bye
Erik (12:12:39 PM): later

more "moving in" photos

2007-07-03T10:57:00.000-07:00

(1) My mom and Uma, helping me move in. This photo was taken on our "lunch break," which was my official first meal at my new place.

(3) These boxes are mostly empty. We spent the whole afternoon sorting books by category and size, and then alphabetizing within those stacks. (I am only obsessive compulsive about books and lists.)

(3) A stack of boxes that still need to be sorted. (I didn't count, but there was something like 30 or 40 boxes of books in the storage bin.)

reading/books

2007-07-03T02:51:00.000-07:00

There was a reading of my play He Asked For It at the Celebration Theatre tonight which was really productive. An awesome group of actors, and a talkback afterwards that was great. I often find talkbacks rambly and unhelpful because you have to wade through a lot of contradictory opinions, but tonight's discussion was really good--there are a few scenes in the play that need some work and I know what I want to do to them now.

I don't usually write about writing stuff on the blog because that's not what the blog's about. But honestly, I don't really know what this blog's supposed to be "about" right now. For its first year, it was all about "new things." Then it was all about Uma's brain. And now...I guess it can just be about whatever I damned want it to be about--but still, I feel like it needs some sort of definition, some sort of mission statement. And I don't know what that is. It'll evolve, it'll find itself. I'm just mentioning the blog's identity crisis as an explanation for my lack of blogging the past month. (Yesterday's long rambly post notwithstanding.)

BUT back to my play reading, the reason I started writing this post in the first place, which I bring up because during the talkback one of the audience members mentioned that he's part of the AIDS Dissident Movement (the play follows several characters who have HIV) and he was wondering why I didn't include that viewpoint in my play. Now, I've heard of AIDS Dissidents, but honestly I didn't know much about them, and I didn't really know what to say to this guy, other than the truth: the Dissident movement has nothing to do with the story I'm telling in this play. But then I came home and did some googling and read more about this so-called movement (the Dissidents basically believe that HIV doesn't cause AIDS) and it totally freaks me out. They're like the Holocaust deniers, except AIDS isn't something that happened sixty years ago. It's happening now, people are still getting infected at alarming rates, it's bigger than we want to admit. We're already too damned complacent about it as it is--we don't need people going around denying the problem. It's scary and dangerous and upsetting.

*

After the reading, before the googling, I spent a few hours organizing books in my new apartment, and I cannot begin to express how satisfying I find the simple act of alphabetizing my books.

They've been in storage for two years and every time I open up a new box and pour through its contents I get these waves of excitment, like I'm being reunited with all of these old friends.

(Is that the geekiest thing ever, or what?)

The time Will Ferrell and I were mistaken for each other, and other finds

2007-07-02T11:25:00.000-07:00

I know I said that this blog is on a break (and IT IS on a break), but my step-dad wants me to make some space in his garage and get rid of a few boxes, so I've been looking through boxes, right? And these boxes are, like, old. And I'm finding the most amazing things. And I can't fucking throw anything away because this shit is just TOO GOOD.

I don't have the patience to use my scanner right now (sorry) (but this isn't a real blog post anyway) (so i figure you'll forgive me) (and besides, I just came back into the house to write this quick post--that's how exciting these finds are--and I'd have to go back into the garage and climb back up the ladder and re-open the boxes I already closed back up in order to scan these amazing finds, and honestly I'm just too lazy this morning) (it's because i spent saturday moving all of my books up into my new apartment) (after carrying 40 boxes of books--yes, 40--no exxageration--my whole body is like "fuck you and whoever taught you how to read) (i don't think i spelled exxageration right, but i'm too lazy to spellcheck) (THAT'S how lazy i'm feeling today) (wow) (oh my god i love my new apartment and i totally forget what i was writing about) (ummmm, reading back...) (oh, right, okay, so I'm too lazy to use my scanner, etc., etc., blah, blah, okay) but I still want to report back to you, my blog readers, about some of these amazing relics I just unearthed in the garage:

--a note from my step-mom, written seven years before she was to become my step-mom, congratulating my mom and my dad on their new baby, along with a note she wrote to me telling me that she was visualizing me being strong (I was born eight weeks early and not in very good shape at the time)

--a scrapbook filled with newspaper clippings of all of the reviews of the plays I acted in as a child, including one that mistook me for Will Ferrell. Or Will Ferrell for me, rather. When I was a kid, I took acting classes at SCR and acted in several of their Young Conservatory productions, which would get reviewed by the local papers. Okay, so, one of the first YCP shows I did (I think I was fourteen) was a production of Pinocchio, which starred a bunch of kids like me, and Will Ferrell. This was several years before he joined Saturday Night Live--several years before he joined The Groundlings, even--but Will Ferrell was still Will Ferrell to all of the kids in this play. He was the only "adult" in the cast (he must have been in his early twenties) and I remember thinking he was the funniest person I'd ever met. (And one of the nicest people, too--we all loved Will.) My point is: Will was super funny, so our director decided to use him as pre-show entertainment: while all of the kids and their parents were coming into the theater to find their seats, they'd find Will already on-stage, sweeping. He'd tell the kids that he was the stagehand and he was getting things ready for the show and once he'd engaged a few kids in conversation, he'd riff with them. And all of us kids who were IN the show would all be huddled around the monitor backstage listening to Will because he was freaking funny. (When I heard he'd been cast on SNL, I was like: "duh.")

Anyway, so I found this box of reviews in the garage, and of course I stood up there on the ladder for thirty minutes reading all of the reviews, and one of the reviews is a total pan, they have absolutely nothing nice to say about the production EXCEPT that they mention that the stagehand "played by Erik Patterson" is hilarious, and a stand-out, and the only reason to see the play. The review doesn't mention Will Ferrell at all. THEN, on the next page of my scrapbook, there's a retraction that basically says "in last week's review of SCR's Pinocchio, we mis-identified the actor who played the stagehand as Eric Patterson. Actually, the role was brilliantly played by the brilliant Will Ferrell, while Eric Patterson, who we don't really remember, and whose name we aren't even going to spell correctly in this retraction, actually played a role credited as 'Townsperson' and did we mention that Will Ferrell was brilliant?" Of course, I'm paraphrasing, but that was essentially what the retraction said. I realize I'm about sixteen years too late, but I kind of want to send them a letter asking for an apology for misspelling my name. ("In the 1991 review of SCR's Pinocchio, we misspelled...")

--the novel I wrote in eighth grade! THIS IS THE MOST EXCITING FIND. I thought I'd lost this. It's terrible, of course, but I'm really impressed that I had the persistence in eighth grade to write EIGHTY PAGES. I wrote this during my Stephen King phase, so the book is a total wannabe Stephen King novel. I need to get back to the garage, but I'll leave you with the first chapter of my first (and so far, only) novel (which, by the way, is completely insane) (and remember that I wrote this during my Stephen King phase) (and also remember that I was fourteen and weird) (and also note that this novel written fifteen years ago proves that I've been a fan of parenthetical statements for a long time) (okay, enough ado):

Untitled novel

by a fourteen-year-old Erik Patterson

William Shepard never knew terror before. He still doesn't -- not yet, at least. Terror will come soon. Very soon. [I'm going to write in some commentary because I can't hold my tongue, and also as an ode to Sheila's Diary Fridays.] [I love how melodramatic this opening beat is. "Terror will come soon. Very soon." Ha. Nice, Erik.]

"William get up! You're late!" His mother can be annoying at times. "Get up and go to work! You are late!!" At least she's persistent. [Okay, so...William has a job, so he's probably an adult, yet he still lives with his mom? Oddly prescient. Maybe I was trying to prepare my own mother for that fact that I would move back home myself when I was twenty-seven.]

"Okay mom. I'll get up." He gets out of bed sluggishly. His body feels like it weighs a thousand pounds.

William's mother, Melanie, has four children. Besides Will, the oldest at nine-teen, there are Daniel, Stacy, and Alexis. Daniel is an oddball eight year old who collects bugs, studies them, dissects them, and sometimes

(but only when they're squirming breathing they're [sic] last breaths of air crying for help help help)

eats them. If you said he wasn't obsessed, you'd be wrong. He is. Bugs are his life. [Do you like how the narrator suddenly becomes schyzto??? Just wait, there's so much more schytzo to come]

Stacy and Alexis are the twins. Besides the obvious fact that they are both fifteen and in the 9th grade [which is so obvious, Erik--why'd you even feel the need to mention it?], they are exact opposites. Stacy is the popular one. She only cares about her hair, looks, make-up, clothes, high heels, and last, but definitely not least, boys. Boys, boys, boys. Johnny this and Chris that. She has boys growing out of her ears. Stacy is up to her neck in boys. [Pick a mixed-up metaphor and stick with it, Erik!] It would be an amazement if she only went out with ONE for a week.

Alexis isn't so lucky,

(oh but she will she will she will be soon as lucky as stacy wild thing)

if you can call Stacy lucky. [I'm so creeped out by this weird second narrator in the parentheses. And even though I was still years away from even admitting to myself that I was gay, I totally think that Stacy and Alexis were, like, manifestations of my inner gay debate team. Like, I secretly WAS boy crazy like Stacy, and wished I could express that. But in reality, I was just not-so-lucky Alexis.] [Who, by the way, I'm certain was named after Alex P. Keaton, because this was written at the height of my Michael J. Fox obsession.] When Webster thought of the word "tomboy," he was thinking of Alexis. Alexis is more likely to be referred to as Alex because she's just "one of the guys." Also, her entire wardrobe is black. Black shirts and black sweatshirts and black pants and black shorts and black socks and black shoes and black hats and black underwear. [Okay, Erik, I think we get the point: the girl likes to wear black.] Black and black and black. [Seriously, we get it already.] It's all black. [Dude, you're not Dickens, getting paid by the word. Ix-nay on the ack-blay othes-clay.] It's as if she's mourning life. [I just want to point out that I didn't read any Chekov until college, so this wasn't actually an ode to The Seagull's Masha, it was just me being really brilliant and Chekovian.]

Before Will can finish his breakfast, a half a piece of toast, his mother nags him to go to work. [Again with the mother nagging him to go to work!] [And how long can it really take to eat "a half a piece of toast"???] He leaves the crust on the plate and throws it into the sink. The plate rattles like a two-headed coin, unsure of which side to land on. [Young Erik, you were a weird young dude. You decided to personify the plate???? Why is this moment so important??? Just send your protagonist to work already.]

"Go now. Get us some money so your brother and sisters can eat. Can you do that for me? Just once, can you make me happy?" [Wow, mom's kind of a harpy.]

"Mom, I want to talk to you about something. I want--"

(to move out have sex with my girlfriend in my own bed instead of at the drive-in the car on the seat popcorn spilling king kong roaring) [I remember thinking this book was so brilliant, I was totally going to be the next Stephen King. But I can't help but be really weirded out by myself as a fourteen-year-old. "sex with my girlfriend" and "king kong roaring" in the same strange character thought parenthetical? I have no comment, but: gross.]

"Not now. You're going to be late." She shoves him out the door and slams it shut behind him before he can respond.

"Good morning to you too, Ma," [Ma????? When did he become a hillbilly???] he says under his breath as he starts to walk down the wet streets. It rained last night. Will heard the rain parade against the roof. Thunder rattled the windows and woke something up inside Will. He had an eeiree [sic] feeling that sent shivers down his spine. The trees glisten in the sun as they sprinkle raindrops into newly made puddles.

Plip plop. Drip drop. [I am not making this up. I have eighty pages of this.]

William works at the Fistita Movie Theater. [The FISTITA???] It's only a short walk away from their house (so is everything else in New Amitee). Will's the person

(along with carla motor mouth johnson oh she gives will a headache) [So let me get this straight, Erik: some of these parenthetical statements are first person thoughts, and some of them are third person? Okay...]

who cleans the building before it's opened to the public, and between each movie. You may call him a janitor, but he prefers custodial engineer. It's a shitty job either way you look at it, Will thinks, but with each day, and each paycheck, Will comes closer to a place of his own. Will has had to take care of the family ever since his father ran away with another woman and his mother started to lose it. They'd been faving an affair for six years. Six years! That's seventy-two months, two-hundred and eighty-eaight weeks, or two-thousand and sixteen days. [Thanks for the math lesson, Erik. Hey, what's Alexis' favorite color to wear? Was it black?] It's enough to make Will sick.

(but you threw up remember all over the videos lost your job remember had to take this shitty job remember) [Okay, wait, so are these parenthetical's supposed to be, like, the devil talking to Will? I'm getting a random vague memory that maybe they're supposed to be the devil. I guess I'll just have to keep reading to see.]

Will wonders when they saw each other. Could all of those business trips have been fake? Was he really with Samantha on all of those trips?

He finally decided to make her dreams come true and shatter his wife's in the process. They moved to Paris. [In the margin, I've written a note to "change this, make more realistic."] When he was married to Melanie, she always complained that they didn't go anywhere. They hardly ever even left New Amitee. "That lowlife, rotten, son-of-a-fucking-bitch" is how he is referred to at home. [I remember being excited that "writing a novel" meant I had the freedom to swear as much as I fucking wanted to, because that's what novelists did.] Well, that's what their mother calls him. The kids don't refer to their dad at all. Will thinks about him as he scrapes gum off of the bottom of the movie seats. [Dad, don't read anything into this!]

An uneventful day [oh, but terror will come soon--VERY SOON], besides finding two quarters, a nickel, and one of those annoying pins that plays a little tune every time you touch it [huh?], under a seat at the Fistita, brings on the night. [Fourteen-year-old Erik, that was a terribly confusing sentence, even before twenty-nine-year-old Erik went in and added his thoughts.] The night brings only dreams and darkness. [Of course it does.] Lately, darkness and dreams have been especiialy common to Will. [Hmmm, what kind of darkness and dreams? Maybe you want to be more specific.] Black darkness and terrible dreams. [That's better.] Terrifying dreams. [You don't say? Maybe because TERROR IS COMING SOON.] The kind of dreams that leave a taste in your mouth and won't

(ever ever ever)

go away. Tonight is no exception. His dreams always start out wonderful, but they end............

[I hate reading about dreams, even in novels. Except for in Crime and Punishment, those are some pretty groovy dream sequences. Anyway, I'm annoyed at my fourteen-year-old self for making me have to type in this boring dream sequence. Feel free to skip ahead if you're still reading this and you don't want to read about some fictional nineteen-year-old's dark and terrifying dream.]

He is sitting on his bed flying through the sky. A dove lands at his feet. It sprawls in the sheets and looks at Will with bright, blue eyes. Then it soars off into the night. Clouds rush through his face and give him a natural high. Bright and shiny stars are within grasp. They give off a glowing radiance too wonderful to describe in words. The world goes on forever. The sky is endless. The ground is miles away. A flaming comet rushes above his head and warms Will's heart. Sparks bounce onto the bed, only to whither away and die. The feeling of the air engulfing his body leaves a chill up his spine. Will has reached Nirvana. He could sit here forever. It seems like he does. [Seriously.]

The bed begins to decline in speed and lose altitude. It's falling into a pit of fire. Hot, raging, monstrous fire. It's alive. The same dove he saw before flies above the fire and is eaten by

(daniel)

the hot fit of flames. Blood bursts into the air

(on his face his hands his mouth his)

as the bird explosed. Will closes his eyes

(wipes off the blood spits it out of his mouth)

and refuses to open them ever again. [I don't remember who Daniel is supposed to be, maybe he's a devil character. Gosh that dream really set us up for a lot of terror in the pages ahead, didn't it?] [I find Will a rather to be melodramatic character. Um, closing your eyes and refusing to ever open them again? Grow up and go to work, Will.] [Oh, wait, I just remembered Daniel is the oddball eight year old who collects bugs, studies them, dissects them, and sometimes (but only when they're squirming breathing they're [sic] last breaths of air crying for help help help) eats them. So wait, the kid eats doves too? Dude is seriously anti-peace.] But he does open his eyes. He opens them when the bed halts to a stop ten feet above the massive flames and starts to spin. [Wait, so he opens his eyes and HE'S STILL DREAMING???? Make the dream sequence stop!] Slowly, at first, and then it picks up speed. The scenery is changing faster than his sister, Stacy, ever could. [Poor Stacy. She's such a slut. Why can't she be more like Alexis and wear black for a change.] Things go by too quickly for Will to figure out what they are. Then everything stops. The world. The sky. The bed. [Hello, melodrama.] William knows where he is. [I think it's funny that sometimes he's "Will" and sometimes he's "William" and it's completely arbitrary. But back to the dream...Will knows where he is, eh? I'm gonna guess he's in hell.] He knows it well. [Okay, maybe not hell.] Will is in Jellison Park. [But...Jellison Park??? What the fuck is Jellison Park??? It sounds too much like Jellystone, too, and now all I can think about is Yogi Bear.] He used to come here when he was a child. Behind that old oak tree he had his first real kiss. It was with Christina

(oh chris i love you chris i love)

Ramsey. [Notice how I gave the girl love interest character a name that could be shortened into a boy's name? I was so gay.] This is where he broke his leg when he was just ten. Another child shoved him off of the monkey bars. He landed on his leg, in the sand. [That must have been hard sand to break his leg.] He heard a snap and was rushed off to the hospital. [This novel is filled with non-sequitors. My favorite one is coming up, about some kid named Johnny Peterson.] That day, he vowed revenge on Johnny Peterson, the kid who broke his leg. He got his revenge years later, for this was where he had his first fight. The fight was with Johnny, but Will can't remember what it was about. It was about something stupid--not about the leg--at least Johnny didn't know that it was about the leg. Some present problem started the fight, but the past fueled it. [Geeeez, Will really held a grudge against that kid who broke his leg. It was probably an accident. I feel sorry for Johnny Peterson.] What was Will doing here now? [Are we seriously still in the dream sequence. Holy crap, this dream is going on for an eternity. I totally need to get back to sorting through boxes in the garage, but instead this dream is like "yadda yadda yadda."]

Just then, he noticed a man leaning against the very oak tree that he had stood by when he received that kiss from Christina. Mr. Samson, the high school principle [sic] lay limp, blood dripping from his mouth. Mr. Samson was

(dead oh my god he's dead you wished he was dead and now oh my god he's dead)

and Will felt no regret for the man who put him through all those hours of detention. [But narrator dude, this is just a dream, remember? Or did you forget that Will hasn't woken up yet?]

"But it's not my fault, is it? I mean this is only a dream, right?" [See, I told you it was just a dream.]

(your dream your wish and now it's come true you wished he was dead and now oh my god he's dead) [Oh, so maybe it ISN'T a dream??? Whatever happened to Stacy and her boycrazy ways? I want Will to fucking wake up already and go check out boys with Stacy at the mall. Maybe they could even buy Alexis a new outfit, something with some color.]

"Oh my God! All the blood! Did--"

(dan ate him but he eats bugs not people he eats bugs bugs not oh my god he's)

"Only a dream, only a dream!"

With a rush, William wakes up from his dream. [Finally.] No, nightmare. [Thank you for the clarification.] Sweat is streaming down his face. The clock says one A.M. [William goes to bed really early for a nineteen-year-old. Back when I was nineteen I rarely got to bed before two. But then again, I guess William has to get up early for his job and all. Still, if he's going to bed early, you'd think his mom wouldn't always nag him so much about waking up, which can be really annoying.] Will is too frightened to go back to sleep. Instead, he sits and stares at the cottage cheese ceiling trying to make pictures out of it. But Will can't stop seeing blood. [Is this the terror? Did the terror finally come?]

"Will, wake up. Mom's got breakfast ready," yells Daniel from the hallway, snapping Will out of his daze. [I think Will should take a little bit of money from his next paycheck and buy an alarm clock.]

"I'll be out in a minute--just get away from me!" Will's body shivers.

(mr samson you ate mr samson and now oh my god he's)

Will doesn't want to get up and face his family. [After all, his mom nags too much, one of his sister's is boy crazy, one of his sister's wears too much black, and his brother eats bugs and apparently people--who would want to get out of bed and face that? I mean, really.] He feels like all of the worlds' problems

(death death death)

are weighing him down. [Will really just needs to take, like, a chill pill. Or eat some ice cream. Or, seriously, go to the mall with your sister Stacy and check out guys. Just lighten up! Enough with the "death death death" and woe is me, terror is coming, crap.]

Will showers, dresses, and joins his family in the kitchen.

"Well well. If it isn't my number one son. What took you so long?" [As if she's not used to having to nag him for twenty minutes before he gets out of bed.]

"Hmph," Will grunts. "Where's the paper?"

"Here. It's so awful. They found your old principle [sic] dead last night. It's right here in the newspaper. Check it out. Eaten by the looks of it. They say he was missing an arm." [Have some compassion, lady!]

(eaten by the looks of it eaten eaten by daniel)

"He can't be dead. This can't be true."

"Sure is. Right there in black and white. The paper doesn't lie."

(not when someone is dead eaten by dan) [That made me laugh out loud. I love how obsessed he is with this weird notion that his eight-year-old brother ate his principle (sic).]

William walks into his room, locks the door, slumps down, and cries. Until he falls asleep again. [Wait, you're not going to work today??? And you're not afraid to go back to sleep??? What if you have another dream about your brother eating someone else???? Don't go back to sleep!!! More terror will come!!!]

*

That's the end of Chapter One. The first line of Chapter Two is: "Once asleep, the dreams begin again," and I can't bear to read any more.

break

2007-06-27T23:58:00.001-07:00

I've been reading...
I've been writing...
I've been moving...
...but I have not been blogging.

I'll get back into the game one of these days, but for now I guess lets say My Year of New Things is taking a summer break.

To my Los Angeles readers...

2007-06-23T00:18:00.000-07:00

Is there anyone out there who has a really comfortable sofa that you're just dying to get rid of???

If so, I'd be very happy to take if off your hands.

Thanks.

my new apartment

2007-06-22T00:45:00.000-07:00

I'm moving back to Los Angeles! Specifically, I'm moving to Highland Park. I looooove my new apartment. I'm obsessed with it. I can't wait to have a housewarming party, to have my first guests. I'll have one soon.

This is not really a blog post, I just wanted an excuse to post some video footage of my new home (with a cameo by Uma):

a phone call

2007-06-18T18:55:00.000-07:00

I just talked to Uma on the phone for eleven and a half minutes! She's doing really good. Fuck, that was an exciting phone call. I'm just jazzed about it. We talked about how absurd life is, and about the future, and about some family stuff. And we didn't really have to play the "guessing game" at all--she was finding so many more words than even the last time we saw each other, which was on Saturday.

That felt so good. I had to share.

5-2-95

2007-06-16T02:01:00.000-07:00

I know the blog's been practically silent for weeks. Mostly because (1) I've been busy with life, and (2) and I just haven't been feeling the blogging vibe. I feel like I'll get the vibe back, I just need a breather.

Anyway, the vibe ain't really completely back yet, but I've been sorting through boxes in the garage and I found something that I have to share. (Why am I sorting through boxes, you ask?) (Because I'm moving on July 1st!) (To the fucking awesomest apartment.) (It's in Highland Park, which is basically Eagle Rock, but supposedly less trendy.)

I've been looking through boxes that haven't been touched in DECADES and I just found this small spiral notebook. Only one of the pages has been used. It's dated 5-2-95, which means I wrote this at the end of my junior year of high school (so cut me some slack):

*

5-2-95

--TV Pilot Idea
--ONE hour drama
--setting, foundation: The journalism staff putting togethor (sic) a newspaper for a college.
--Cast: group of twenty-somethings, plus two adult advisers
--Follows all of their personal and professional lives (at school and trying to put their lives together) as they begin to find out who they are. But also there is a common throughline -- they have to put together a newspaper.

*

I love it because it's so utterly vague and earnest and boring. I can just imagine the pitch meeting: "So where does the show go after the first episode?" "Oh, you know, there's a common throughline -- they have to put together a newspaper." And then: crickets. (Actually, substitute "newspaper" with "late night comedy show" and you basically have Studio 60.)

Thank god I've learned how to express my ideas in the last twelve years, 'cuz this one sure wasn't gonna get me anywhere.

*

A few other things random things found in boxes tonight:

1. two rulers that proclaim: "my orthodontist keeps me straight" (mine certainly didn't)

2. the Howard the Duck soundtrack on audio cassette (yes, that's how much of a dork I am--not only did I see Howard the Duck FOUR TIMES in the movie theater, but I also owned the audio cassette tape of the freaking soundtrack)

3.

4. a jar of nickels (just nickels)

5. a set of Twin Peaks collectible cards (one of them signed by Wendy Robie, a.k.a. Nadine, a.k.a. the inventor of the world's first completely silent drape runner)

6. "Diane...The Twin Peaks Set of Audio Tapes," yes, on audio cassette. This was a collection of all of Kyle MacLachlan's "Diane..." monologues from the show, including some that he recorded just for the tape. (I am in Twin Peaks Geek Heaven right now.)

7. all of my high school I.D.s, including the fake I.D. I bought from Mujibar and Sirajul when I was fifteen. (I was on a high school drama trip to New York and I decided I wanted to get drunk for the first time, which I did, successfully, at Don't Tell Mama's.) (They didn't card me, and if I remember correctly I drank: 1 gin and tonic, 1 rum and coke, 1 rum and hot chocolate, and 2 pina coladas.) (I got unbelievably drunk.) (Here's the funny part: they didn't card me until...I paid for my drinks with travellors checks that said my real name on them, and then they asked to look at I.D. to verify the travellors checks and I gave them my fake I.D. that had a fake name on it. At that point, I'd already drunk their drinks and they just wanted my money.) (By the way, my fake I.D. was the worst fake I.D. in the world.)

raising money to pay for Uma's speech/physical therapy -- help with your VOTE, not with money

2007-06-14T17:04:00.000-07:00

Please go to:

THE ROBIN HOOD FUND

and register with the site, so you can vote. It's super quick and easy. Once you've registered, please vote for Uma at the following link:

VOTE FOR UMA HERE

The voting is based on a star system. Please give Uma 5 stars! The winner gets 500 bucks. If Uma wins, the money will go towards her therapy bills.

Thank you kindly.

*

In other news...

FURTHER PROOF THAT I AM A SIXTEEN-YEAR-OLD GIRL:

My current two favorite songs are

(1) U + UR HAND by Pink

and

(2) GIRLFRIEND by Avril Lavigne

True story.

8 things

2007-06-06T15:47:00.000-07:00

I got tagged by Rob to list 8 random facts about myself. I haven't been blogging enough lately, so I figure a meme is as good a way to get back into the game as any. Here goes. (And, by the way, these facts are so completely random I don't know where they just came from.)

1. I hate cheese. Most days this doesn't really come up. But this one time, I was in France (this was just after graduating from high school, I lived in the south of France for the summer) and on the first day I was there, the family I was staying with offered me the proverbial French Cheese Tray. I'm polite, so I tried to eat a piece of cheese, but French cheese is, like, out of control, and I couldn't even swallow it, and I gagged it into my napkin, and it was totally embarrassing. The family I was staying with, however, continued offering me the French Cheese Tray at every single meal for the rest of the summer. I hate cheese.

2. In 2000, I worked for a day as an extra on ER. I was dressed as a paramedic and the 2nd A.D. told me to just stand at the end of the hall, while Dr. Greene ran past me. But just standing at the end of the hall didn't seem like something a real paramedic would do, and I noticed that I was near a wall-phone, so I picked it up and pretended to be on a call. I kept waiting for someone to be like, "what's that paramedic doing, we never told him he could use the phone," but no one stopped me. About a month later, coincidentally, I temped as an assistant for one of ER's EP's and I noticed a box of dailies on their way to be recycled. I surrepticiously rifled through the box and found the dailies from my day on the set, and, well...let's just say I got to be all: "look! There I am talking on the phone! And look--there I am talking on the phone again!"

3. I owned every single Garbage Pail Kid ever made (about 2000 unique cards) until they decided to start producing NEW cards in 2003--part of me really wants to start collecting again, so that my set will truly be complete, and another part of me is like: "you're a dork."

4. If I was given a choice between having the power of flight or the power of invisibility, I would choose the power of invisibility. For snooping purposes.

5. The first play I ever acted in was A Christmas Carol at SCR in 1988. I had one line of dialogue: "But it's Christmas Eve, Mr. Scrooge!"

6. I have really bad gaydar. I was at a party recently and I met this guy and this girl, and the guy was really cute, and I was totally flirting with him, and then the girl mentioned that they were about to move in together, except, for some reason, when she said it, I thought she meant that they were just going to be roommates. Honestly, I don't know how I could mistake "we're moving in together" for anything other than "bitch, we're a couple, stop flirting with my man," but I totally didn't get it, and I continued to flirt with him, until about an hour later when I asked the girl if the guy was single and she was like, "um, what part of 'we're moving in together' don't you understand?"

7. I once drove away from a gas station with the gas pump still in my car. I heard a loud clanging sound as I pulled out of the gas station, but I still didn't realize what had happened. Then, in my rearview mirror, I noticed the gas station attendant running after me, so I pulled over, and that's when I saw that my poor little shit-brown Mercury Topaz (RIP) had a motherfreaking gas pump for a tail. Whoops.

8. One day I want to have a home with a wrap-around porch.

Okay, one of the requirements of this meme, apparently, is that you're supposed to tag 8 other people. If you've already done this meme before, hit us with 8 new things. (And I'm tagging people I don't really know that well, a few people whom I've only met on the blogosphere, but I really enjoy reading your blogs, so I hope you'll play along.)

Tagged: Kyle, Chad, Sheila, Sheila, Willam, Michael, Annie, and Anderson Cooper. (Come on, Anderson--make my day.)

My Year of New Things goes digital

2007-06-05T11:38:00.000-07:00

I just got my first digital camera and I am OBSESSED with it. I’m really into the photos that don’t really come out, the kind of blurry ones, where light seems to smear across the photo. Or where peoples faces get kind of mashed together. Like these:

look out for: "10 for everything" by Rachel Kann

2007-06-04T13:31:00.001-07:00

One of my favorite writers in the whole world (and, okay, full disclosure: one of my favorite people in the whole world too) (but this post is about her writing, so let's stick with that for now), Rachel Kann, has a book of short stories coming out on June 15th, which is so fucking exciting and I recommend that you do yourself a favor and buy a copy of the book. (To be completely honest, I haven't even read the book yet, but Rachel's cd "word to the whys" has been in heavy rotation on my ipod lately and she's just so damned good. I can't wait to read her fiction. I'm getting an advanced copy, and I'll report back on it soon.)

More info about her book (as well as how to purchase a copy) can be found on her MySpace page. You can pre-order your copy today, and your book will be shipped to you on June 15th.

If you saw either of my last two plays (Yellow Flesh/Alabaster Rose, or Red Light Green Light), you'll remember Rachel as Rose, the pregnant goth teen (the Los Angeles Times called her "radiant"), and you might also know Rachel as a kick-ass poet and emcee (she used to host Co:Lab at Temple Bar in Santa Monica, and Chromosome X at The Knitting Factory), but if you don't know her at all, you should get acquainted. I have a feeling you'll be seriously glad you did.

But don't just take my word for it. Here's what people who've actually read the book are saying:

Rachel Kann has crafted an addictive parallel universe, where funky little worlds shift and shudder, and characters are deftly etched and blessed with her gleefully skewed perspective. The sharp lyricism of these stories, which practically beg to be read aloud, unmask Ms. Kann for the poet she is, and that unpredictability of language is nothing less than a revelation.

--Patricia Smith, Teahouse of the Almighty (National Poetry Series Winner,) Four Time National Poetry Slam Champion

Anyone lucky enough to hear Rachel Kann perform knows that this woman has a Voice. What a thrill to see this voice translated into fiction, into a wide range of other voices, voices that burn right through the page with their yearning for, and fear of, connection. She's crafted stories that are fresh and surprising, with a true human heartbeat.

--Gayle Brandeis, The Book of Dead Birds (Bellwether Prize for Fiction Winner)

I'm looking for a story in a voice I care about-and a distinctive voice that isn't like anyone else's. I'm looking for something new and interesting and worthy of my time as a reader. And Rachel Kann's fine work is all of those things and more.

--Rob Roberge, author of Drive and More Than They Could Chew

When Rachel handed me her first pages, told me to be gentle, because it was her first time, I knew Rachel probably didn't want any kind of gentle first time. First times should be messy and angry and strange...and, oh, Rachel did not disappoint. And here we are again, another first time, but this time it's a book, and it's messy and angry and strange and beautiful and passionate and hopeful, sometimes all in the same sentence.

--Tod Goldberg, author of Simplify, Living Dead Girl & Fake Liar Cheat

Also, while I'm on the subject of Rachel and her awesomeness...

Rachel is participating in this online spoken word competition, and she needs people to vote for her video. If you have a few short moments, click on the links below and check it out. It's one of my favorite poems of hers, and she totally deserves so many more votes than she has right now.

Here are all of the pertinent details about the competition (cut-and-pasted from an email Rachel just sent out):

i am in this fame cast spoken word competition online thing right now.
and, i am just saying...
the prize is 10,000 bux.
and you can vote for me.

its a video comp, and so my animated piece, pretty talk, (the amazing lewis klahr did the animation,) is in the running.

its really easy to vote.
yes, its one of those things where you have to register...
BUT...these fame cast people are very cool, and you won't get spammed in your email inbox, i promise.
they're cool like that.

so, you go register here: CLICK ME

and then you go vote here: CLICK ME

so it would really really mean a lot to me if you voted, i am really proud of the piece, lewis klahr is brilliant, and its like the only animated piece in the whole competition that i am aware of. so do it for collage art, people!

feel free to spread the word about the competition and the book by forwarding this email to anyone you think would be interested.

i hope you are well.

i am really grateful to you for reading this,
rachel

http://myspace.com/rachelkann

John's latest Uma update (6/3/07)

2007-06-04T09:08:00.000-07:00

FROM JOHN:

Hl everyone,

Just on the off chance that anyone out there was
wondering whether Uma had lost any of her personality
or her passion for life and for the objective truth of
life, or her love for me or her friends and family, or
her desire to act and express her love and art, or her
respect for others and the world and all its
blessings....don't wonder....I don't.

She continues to work and improve on everything and
continues to be more frustrated at times because her
improvement illuminates more of the path ahead for her
and she can see more clearly everyday where she's been
and where she wants to go. To risk the broken record
instance, it's going to be a long road. But she is
less bling to it as each day passes. This reveals to
her the tragedy she escaped and the love she's been
given and produces. Yesterday on our walk she said -
and this is a direct quote, "I just want to do what I
need to do today, tomorrow, and the next." And we
were talking in the context of her recovery.

I'm at a starbucks in orange county about to go play a
job and Erik and Lauren Campadelli are with her by
turns today. When Erik came over this morning he
remarked that she is more verbal than she was even
since last Monday. And today in physical therapy at
home she was working on her right arm extensively. I
have a video now of her extending her right arm away
from her belly (while lying down thereby making it
easier to isolate the shoulder muscles from helping.)
I think it was called 'external rotation'. This is
good. As soon as our home PT saw that Uma could move
her arm at all she just 'floored it'. Uma has
actually done nothing but get better since January
31st, despite everything including hydrocephalus.

There have been two times now that I've left her at
home alone for a couple of hours. She's getting better
at calling me on the cell phone. One time she actaully
dialed my number rather than just utilizing the
'return' feature after I had called her. I really
wrestled with this - when do I let her stay at home
alone? One of the answeres to that question revealed
itself when I realized that there have been many times
where I've been working in the studio for a couple of
hours without checking on her. She could have had a
problem during that time and I might not necessarily
have known about it. The difference being that when
I'm not actually at home I would need to have someone
close by to check on her if needed and I believe I
have that option among about a dozen friends all of
whose numbers are in my cell phone and written in my
phone book. Uma was so excitied the first time I left
her at home alone. Her autonomy is thrilling to her.
In this she hasn't changed at all.

Last weekiend we had a nice visit with her aunt, uncle
and cousins in Malibu. Her aunt cooked spicy sri
lankan style food and it was actually a bit much for
Uma. This was the first really hot food since 1/31.
She made it though.

She now sees one of two physical therapists six times
a week and a speech therapist three times a week. We
can carry on this way for many months and we will do
that.

I can't wait 'till she and I can carry on a nice, long
conversation. That's something we used to do almost
daily and sometimes, when I have time to think about
it, I really miss it. I think it will probabaly happen
this year.

Thanks again for all the help, prayers, visits and
love.

Bye for now,
John

spelling

2007-05-31T23:23:00.001-07:00

I'm watching the National Spelling Bee Championship on my Tivo right now. These kids are amazing. Tia Thomas just got knocked off after misspelling the word "zacate." I'm only 15 minutes into the 2 hour show and Tia was totally the speller I was rooting for. Now who am I gonna root for? ALL OF THESE KIDS SHOULD WIN. Oh my god, it's so tense, I can't stand it. Every time someone says the wrong letter, my stomach knots up. God, I can't bear it.

Last weekend, Uma and Marie and I had dinner at Brian and Aubree's house (they made the most amazing dinner) (gnoche) (so freaking good) (seriously) (I really like gnoche and this was definitely the best gnoche I've ever had) (though I'm not sure if I'm spelling the word "gnoche" right) (which would be ironic and sad, seeing as I'm watching a kid trying to spell the word "bouleuterion" right now) (ooooo, he forgot the first "o") (I don't know if I can watch this, it's too hardcore) and at dinner (or after dinner, rather) Brian mentioned that I haven't blogged about my bowel movements lately, and so I just wanted to say that I had a really satisfying poop tonight. You know, the kind that wipes totally clean, on the first wipe. So refreshing.

Okay, one of the ousted spellers just made me cry. I need to focus and hope this kid Joseph Henares spells "punaise" correctly.

UPDATE: Okay, now I'm rooting for Matthew Evans to win. He's the youngest person left in the competition and the only competitor to be a veteran of four challenges. It should be his year. Genizah!

UPDATE: Dammit, Evan O'Dorney just spelled "schuhplattler" correctly, and now I want HIM to win, because he come on: schuplattler? Dude so deserves to win.

UPDATE: Okay, Matthew Evans is gone now, foiled by a silent "u" and a silent "d." Now I'm fully on Team O'Dorney. Come on, schuhplattler.

UPDATE: Sorry, scratch that: now I want Isabel Jacobson to win. Epaulement!

UPDATE: Okay...Isabel's out...now we're down to the final two. O'Dorney and the canadian kid...and...THE SPELLING BEE RAN LONG AND MY FREAKING TIVO DIDN'T TAPE THE END. Wow, I'm gonna have to google to find out who won. That's a letdown.

UPDATE: O'Dorney won! Woo-hoo! Winning word: serrefine!

and now a word from our sponsor

2007-05-30T10:55:00.000-07:00

I realize that I'm a bad blogger lately. And I feel like everytime i DO post, all I do is apologize for not having blogged much lately. Let's just say that I've been taking some time off, but I promise I'll get back into a regular groove soon.

In the meantime, I just posted a bunch of new photos on my flickr account.

Awesome Possum

2007-05-24T20:59:00.000-07:00

John just sent me this video. The quality isn't great (it's pretty dark), but what you CAN see in this video is what's important: Uma lifting her right arm (which, for the last few months, has been almost completely immobile)

Before seeing the movement in this video, I'd only seen her move her right arm with the tiniest of movements--this arm lift is HUGE.

She gets stronger and stronger every day!

Uma update from John, with a couple of questions

2007-05-24T09:50:00.000-07:00

FROM JOHN:

Uma 5.23.07

Hi again everyone,

Thank you for the replys to my email. It’s nice to
hear from people.

Yesterday in physical therapy (according to Marie who
took Uma there) Uma turned her right wrist over a few
times and moved her right upper arm away from her
body. And last night she simultaneously squeezed my
hand and flexed her bicep.

We walked well over a mile yesterday. This is good for
her because it builds up her endurance and muscle
tone. I question a little bit whether it’s good for
her walking form though and will ask the PT on Friday
about. The reason being that, like practicing a
musical instrument, what good is practicing for hours
if you’re not exercising proper form or technique? or,
in this case, does the form and technique evolve as
her brain heals and circumvents the damaged and dead
areas? I’ll try and find out. It may just be one of
the many “unknowns” of this whole challenge.

I have some questions for anyone out there who might
know. They are:

what is the benefit/risk, if any, of accupuncture or
accupressure for paralysis/brain damage?

What is the benfit/risk, if any, of hyperbaric oxygen
treatment for stroke/brain damage?

Are there any health insurance programs for small
businesses (two people)? Do they require information
about previous health conditions?

Uma’s condition improves a little every day. One of
the side effects of this is that she becomes more
frustrated and angry. More awareness = more awareness
you know what I mean?

But yesterday on our walk her awareness showed itself
in that she didn’t just plow through and keep going in
her sort of wobbly struggle. She slowed down and even
stopped a couple of times to think about the placement
and shape of her right leg. She pointed to it and
asked, loudly, “Why?!” I answered every question I
could think of with the fewest words possible followed
by several tons of encouragement and a review of the
history of her recovery since we got home.

She’s great. I’m lucky.

I really do believe that every thought and prayer and
expression of love counts for her. Thank you.

john

latest Uma update from John

2007-05-20T23:45:00.000-07:00

uma may 20

Hi Everyone,

I’ve come to the realization that I can’t update on
Uma every week......I think it will be better if I
send a small-ish note every day. (well....at least
that’s what I’ll try to do.)

I’ve said recently that my relationship to Uma’s
recovery is like watching a snail cross the street and
I’m on my hands and knees with my face right down
there near the pavement - just concentrating on the
snail and hoping that the doctors have really told us
to cross the right street and that a car doesn’t come
by and squash us both. Other people come by every so
often and remark about how amazing it is that the
snail has moved to far to the other side of the
street. I look up from the pavement and see just how
far and am amazed. But it takes other people’s
perspective to help me see what has happened.

Today, like most days, Uma and I walked about a mile
in our neighborhood. As of yesterday I began working
with her on straightening her right leg at just the
right moment in her stride. (Have you ever thought, in
minute detail, about what you do when you walk?) It’s
easier to access the leg-straightening detail when she
walks up our stairs. She plants her right foot on the
step, leans forward and pushes up. Before she plants
her left foot she must straighten her right leg -
essentially standing on one leg for a moment. We did
this yesterday after the walk. Today we did it before
the walk and so on the walk I would slow us down and
bend over while we walked and gently push her right
leg back at the right moment - straightening it and
causing the foot to roll more naturally. I do this
about 20 times. She gets it while I’m helping but not
after I stop helping. But the way this recovery goes
is just like that.....she gets it with help and she
needs ever-so-slightly less help each day. It is
enough for gratitude that she gets it with help.

...and then I begin to chant along with her stride,
“Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday.....” etc. And
she chants, in time, with me. She does well in
sequence and so I mix it up by telling her to
alternate with me. I say, “Monday”, she says,
“Tuesday” etc. It cycles around to where we each say
each day every other time. (7 days - 2 people). She
almost always gets stuck on Wednesday - she jumps from
Tuesday to Thursday all the time. So then we just say,
“Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday” over and over and then
start all over again. She gets better at it every
day.

....same thing in practicing her writing the alphabet.
Singing the alphabet song helps her find the
pronunciation for a difficult letter. The first time
we did it she would have to begin at the start of the
song each time. Now we just back up a few letters
before.

Today was the first time she took a shower by herself.
I helped her with strategy but she did all the work.
She absolutely loved it. She seemed to feel so much
better standing up and moving around instead of
sitting on the shower chair and having me move the
nozzle around and wash her hair etc. for her. She kept
saying, “wow!” and smiling. Then there were more
strategies for drying.....her back and feet present
the most problems but she did it. .....but how to get
lotion on her left hand and arm? it’s the only arm
that works......I had her put some lotion on her left
leg and then rub the back of her left hand and arm on
her leg. Big smile. ......so....things like that
happen each day.

Tonight Uma helped me cook dinner - stirring the
chicken/onion/garlic/pepper whatchmacallit and putting
produce back in the frig. We ate. She did the dishes.

Yesterday I did a gig and had two friends by turns
come by and watch her. They, in effect, are her
emergency phone call, if necessary, but the visits end
up being so much more than that. In the morning I
prepared meals for her that could be microwaved and
before I left for the job we walked and did speech and
upper body therapy. The days can be so full in this
way. My focus is her. Her focus is her.

Two nights ago she went out to dinner with Erik while
I went to play a show at a theatre we’ve both
performed at several times. I had to go early to set
up and sound check and she and Erik came by at show
time. The place was packed and a lot of her friends
were there. This kind of event is so mixed for her. It
is truly wonderful for her to see all of those
beatiful friends and have them so openly and warmly
express their love for her. But because she can’t
converse with them except to nod or laugh or say, “I’m
fine.” is really frustrating for her and she ends up
being emotionally overwhelmed. So....as soon as the
show is over we sneak out and go home. She’s happy and
sad. We’ll take the happy and accept the sad and
accept every expression of love offered. For all the
people who were at that show and spoke to Uma, thank
you so much and please understand where she “is” right
now. Take no offense that we left early or that she
didn’t say much. She loves you.

As of now she walks better than before. Her right arm
and hand are still, for all intents, non-functioning
but she says that it feels different. The exercises we
are doing each day that our home-based physical
therapist (a professor at USC) taught us cause Uma’s
right tricep and shoulder to stabilize and engage. Uma
really feels it in her arm. When she first did this
with the PT I saw the therapist’s face light up and a
very big smile appeared on her face. .....Uma has
trouble with speech, reading, writing, etc. but I have
hope. Each day she repeatedly copies the alphabet it
gets better. The progress seems glacial when I’ve
forgotten that her brain was so severly insulted. When
I reflect on her condition the first month after the
aneurysm I’m very content with her progress.

Yesterday we were walking home and she stopped and
uttered an, “Ah!” while gesturing at the sky, the
trees, the sun. We did some charades and guessing and
I discovered that she was feeling good about her life
despite the injuries. I remarked at how great it is
that we don’t live in a part of the country where it
snows or is otherwise cold - imagine having to bundle
up and wear boots etc. just to talk a walk - along
with a brace and arm sling etc. Sometimes we feel
very lucky.

She is on the computer each day looking at emails and
her myspace page. She really enjoys this so please
send her a note if you can.

nithipal@hotmail.com or myspace.com/umanithipalan.

If you want to see a really nice picture of her go to

myspace.com/johnballinger

This is a new life of patience and love. Please think
of her mind, her arm, her hand and feel love. Think of
yourself and feel love, too, and accept my love and
thanks for doing this and for all the previous
prayers.

I am so grateful.

John

apartment hunt

2007-05-20T19:15:00.000-07:00

My step-grandpa (i.e. my step-mom's dad) is moving into a smaller house (he can't really do stairs anymore, so he's moving into a place without stairs) and his move just happens to coincide with an impending move for me (i'm looking for a one bedroom apartment in either los feliz, silverlake, beachwood canyon, echo park, hollywood, or eagle rock) (so if you know of an amazing apartment, please give me a heads up) (thanks), so I spent the entire day helping my step-grandpa move out of his place, and looting his house for furniture (I scored a queen-sized bed, a dining room table, a Lazy Boy chair, a TV, and an entire kitchen's worth of pots and pans) (very exciting) and now I'm beat. I might have an apartment lined up in Beachwood Canyon (cross your fingers, it's an awesome apartment, and I'd be Laural Meade's neighbor, which would freaking rock), but that place might not work out, so, seriously: if you know of an amazing one-bedroom apartment, hit me up with the deets. Thank you.

a quick post about various random things and Taye Diggs' ass

2007-05-14T18:29:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting here with Uma at her place right now. John had a music gig today, so Uma and I have been hanging. We had a long (good) day, out and about in the world (we went to the Glendale Galleria, and then we tried to go to see Disturbia, but we both thought the movie was super boring and we ended up walking out midway through) (but even though we didn't finish the movie, it was still Uma's first trip to a movie theater since her damned brain aneurysm, and that was pretty cool), and now we're both sitting at our respective lap tops, checking email--which is pretty damned cool, too.

*

Okay, I started writing the above blog post, but then Uma and I got sidetracked by a little game that we like to call 100 Questions. (Marie coined the name of the game.) Uma read an email from my step-dad and she wanted to reply to the email, but she's still kind of flumoxxed by keyboards, so she had me type out the email for her. She had something very specific she wanted to say in her reply email, but she couldn't express what it was...which is when the 100 Questions game kicked into gear. Anyway, Uma was incredibly frustrated, but after an hour (YES, AN HOUR), I finally figured out that she wanted to thank Joe for the column he wrote about her. She was very relieved when we finally figured out what she wanted to say. (And Urp, I'm sorry it took so long, but at least we figured it out!)

If you've sent Uma an email and you haven't gotten a response, this anecdote should help explain WHY it's taking so long for you to get a response--most likely, Uma hasn't even read your email yet, because writing reply emails are sometimes such time consuming things! Anyway, we finally figured it out and Uma and I were both incredibly relieved and now I'm too tired to write a more complete blog entry. I'm just gonna go ahead and post this though because I have been neglecting the blog and I feel guilty about that.

*

Oh, on a completely unrelated note (and when did I ever care aboout segues on the blog anyway?), I have such a crush on Boo from the latest edition of Survivor. Like, a HUGE, massive crush. I wanna have his babies. I wish he had won the million dollars. He totally should have because he managed to get hotter every single episode and that MUST count for something, right???

*

I've received 4 theater rejection letters in the past seven days. I actually LIKE getting rejection letters because (1) a lot of the time you submit your work somewhere and you don't ever even hear ANYTHING, so at least a rejection letter lets you shut the book on that particular submission, and (2) you've gotta go through a lot of rejection in this business, so every time I get a rejection letter I figure that means I'm one step closer to another production, another YES. (As a sort of bonus, the four rejection letters I've received this week have been some of the most positive rejection letters I've ever received, so they managed to crush my soul and feel happy about it at the same time.) (Just kidding about the "crush my soul" part, I'm made of stronger stuff than that.)

*

Taye Diggs is naked on TV right now and Angela Bassett is totally rubbing his butt.

Christy and the NoNos this Friday night

2007-05-12T08:58:00.000-07:00

I have been such a bad blogger lately. Sorry about that.

I've been listening to Christy and the NoNos since I woke up this morning (which was only, like, thirty minutes ago) (but they only have four songs on their myspace page, so I've had time to listen to each song at least twice) and I wanted to give them a shout out because they are so damned good. If you live in LA, they're having a cd release party on Friday the 18th, and they give good show. Go.

CHRISTY AND THE NONOS
Singers: Chris Wells, Laural Meade, Polly Segal, Patrice Quinn
Musicians: Fred Cassidy, John Ballinger, Darren Embry

latest Uma update

2007-05-08T01:39:00.000-07:00

(I'm sorry I haven't posted in two weeks!) (many apologies!) (life) (but I'm gonna try to get back to being regular again.)

Dear friends and family...

It's been a really long time since I've sent out an Uma update—-about two weeks, actually—-and I've started to get worried emails from people—-asking me if everything has been okay—-so I realized that I need to get back on the ball with the updates. John wrote an update last night and his update describes Uma's daily routine pretty wonderfully, so I won't go into a lot of detail, but suffice it to say: every day she gets a little bit better, every day her walking gets a tiny bit more assured, every day she gets out a new word. So I'd say she's doing pretty amazingly.

A quick anecdote: I spent a few hours with her today while John was working in the studio with Ken, and we decided to go for a walk. Uma and John usually go on a walk in the morning—-down the street to get coffee—-and Uma sometimes goes on walks in the afternoon, so this wasn't anything new for her, but this was the first time I'd gone on a walk with her, so I was excited for us to venture out into the world together. I knew that the longest walk she'd been on so far was to Franklin and back—-which is 6 blocks each way, so: twelve blocks. Okay. So that's what I figured we'd do.

Uma and I started out on our walk and Uma was very confident. She didn't even need to use her cane. (In fact, when I asked her if she needed it, she gave me SO MUCH ATTITUDE, as if to say: "haven't you been paying attention? I don't need to use that damned thing anymore.") As we walked down the street, I flashed back on her days at the rehab facility when she was taking her first difficult steps...that was just over a month ago—-and then I flashed back on two months ago when she couldn't even move her right leg AT ALL—-and here she was walking through her neighborhood—-without a cane, without anyone's help—-walking so well. I don't want to overuse the adjective "amazing," but I can't think of another word right now.

When we got to Franklin, I told Uma it was time to turn around, and she said "no," and then pointed ahead. She wanted to walk further. "Okay, let's go," I told her. So we walked another block. And then when we got to the end of that block, I told her it was time to turn around and head back. "No," she told me, and pointed ahead. I told her we should really probably turn around, but she was adamant. So I gave in: "alright, let's go another block." So then we walked another block, and when we got to that next block, Uma was excited and enjoying herself and totally into the walk…so we went another block. By now we'd walked a total of nine blocks and Uma finally decided she was ready to turn around. So then we started heading back and by the time we got back to Franklin we'd walked twelve blocks, which was the longest walk Uma had been on so far, and by the time we hit block twelve...

...Uma was tired and so completely ready for the walk to be over. But she had insisted on walking further, so now we still had six more blocks to walk. Uma asked me, "when?" I finished the sentence for her: "When are we going to get home?" "Yes," she said. "We have six more blocks to go." Then Uma asked: "Why..." And I finished: "...why did I let you bully me into walking those extra blocks?" Uma laughed: "Yes."

Those last six blocks were tough. Uma was exhausted, so we'd walk about ten feet, then we'd take a break.

Have a sip of water.

Stand in the shade for a beat…

...and then we'd move forward another ten feet.

Then, again: pause, water, shade, then walk. And again: pause, water, shade, then walk.

Literally taking the rest of the way home in these little ten feet intervals.

As we walked those last few blocks, Uma started getting frustrated, tired, cranky, but we were almost home. We just had to get over the bend. (I know this sounds like some parable, but I swear to you there's a little hill right before you get to their house, so we LITERALLY had to get over one final bend.) We took one final break in the shade, one final sip of water. And then we continued on. Until finally—-finally—-we got back home and took our shoes off. Then Uma got into bed, ready to rest.

Anyway, (and this is parable time, for real) as far as Uma's speech therapy goes, I kinda feel like Uma's at the beginning of walking those last six blocks home. They are LONG blocks she still has to walk down—-who knows how long it will take for her to get all of her words back-—it's probably going to take a really long time. But every day she moves a couple inches forward. The thing is, she seems to comprehend everything that's going INTO her brain, but her words need to find new pathways to GET OUT, so it's kind of like she's learning how to speak again one word at a time. Which is tough, and grueling, and frustrating. But eventually she IS going to have all of her words back. I know she is. She's just gotta keep moving forward in these little intervals, and eventually she'll be "home" again, in every sense of the word.

Thank you for all of your continued love and prayers and good thoughts for her.

Here's JOHN'S LATEST UPDATE...(5/6/07):

hello everyone,

it's been a long, long time since last i wrote. in an
explanation of why i haven't sent an update in so long
i can start by saying that i now have an entirely
differnt brand of respect for my mother and father.
as the person who gets the therapists, sets the
schedule, sets the alarm, makes the breakfast, helps
dress her, gets her to the therapists, makes lunch,
does the laundry, the dishes, makes dinner, helps in
the shower, makes music on the side to pay the bills,
and gets her medication ready, i now see a little bit
of what it must of been like for my mom and dad who
both had full time jobs and took care of us three
kids. this is love on a different level. it's love
in action and it has left little time for words (or
anything else) lately.

we've been out of rancho los amigos national
rehabilitation center in downey for about 2 and a half
weeks. of the many things she can do now that she
couldn't do then are - reach down and pick up things
from the floor, carry dishes back into the kitchen,
get things into and out of the frig, wash some of her
dishes, put toast in the toaster, answer her cell
phone and have limited conversations, change the
channel on the tv, walk up the stairs without dragging
her right foot on the lip of the stair.....etc.
there are almost too many things to tell about.
there seemed to have been a plateau upon getting home
but that turns out not to be true.

to have seen her go, literally, from not even seeing
me to walking out of rancho with a cane on her way to
her first in 'n out burger in months marked a
progression of amazing speed. but now the progress is
measured differently. whereas she has been able to
ambulate with both legs, now she is working on the
finer details of what walking means. she must
reconnect with the muscles that her brain has
forgotten about. this is a deeper level of brain
activity than the gross movements we saw at rancho.

just about everyday she says something, some word that
she didn't say before.

usually she can move her fingers on her right hand a
little each day.

i honestly don't remember how this differs from the
last email i wrote but the difference for me is that
she is more 'there', more aware and present each day.
we were walking back from dinner tonight (!) and i was
checking in with her about how best to spend the
fundraising money on her recovery. a few minutes later
a fellow musician friend of mine named ken lasaine
was walking towards us. we greeted each other,
exchanged some words and moved on. i told uma, again,
about the fund raiser and emails and life-changing
activity people have undergone learning about
her....and i mentioned that he, ken, had donated to
her fund. well, THIS time it finally hit home with
her just how much has taken place in this regard. she
just kept on saying, 'wow!' almost until we got home.
she was truly amazed and overwhelmed by this. the
thing is, i have told her about this on numerous
occasions but never has she reacted this way to the
news. she is amazed. she is overwhelmed. she
understand what you all have done for her.

we have hired two out of probably only 7 physical
therapists in southern california who not only have
doctorate degrees in the field but who are also
neurologically certified. since the gap in time
between rancho's in- and out-patient programs was so
wide, we have so far, decided to pay for pt and st at
glendale adventist hospital. the speech and physical
therapist there are really good matches for uma - they
are really good (if i'm any kind of reluctant expert
now) and really nice and really tough and true in
their vision of her path to recovery. we see the
speech and physical therapist there 3 times a week
each. we also have hired an associate professor of
physical therapy from usc to come to our house twice a
week. both pt's are co-ordinating with each other to
maximize her work. so....by saturday, uma is pretty
worn out....but today, at her suggestion, we ate
breakfast (eggs scrambled with asparagus, tomatoes,
onions and garlic with toast) on the front porch
(first time ever) and then we went to the beach. she
is really waking up.

we've been back to rancho for a physical therapy
out-patient evaluation but the program for her
wouldn't start for another 6 weeks. her speech
evaluation was performed by someone who, honestly,
didn't do a good job. having been through so much in
terms of different therapists and in interviewing and
being evaluated by a number of therapists i've learned
a little bit about what the job(s) mean. of the three
speech therapists we've seen since she left rancho,
two of them were truly prepared, worked in really
efficient and penetrating ways with uma and got really
amazing results from her. the third was from rancho.
long story short, we've decided to use the fundraising
money by hiring the therapists we have now. they are,
in my opinion, the best for her and her recovery. we
have enough to last us about 8 months of 8 therapy
seesions (5 physical, 3 speech) per week. this is a
LOT of rehab but she is determined to recover all the
way. i just wanted everyone to know how this is
going and, in a way, how your donations are being
used.

uma loves being at home. our routines are nicer now
than a few weeks ago and they change everyday because
she can do more everyday.

i've never been through anything more life-changing or
exhausting or that has elevated my gratitude. but i
feel like i want to begin writing about her again -
or, at least, i feel like i have the energy. i don't
think i can do it every night like i did before but
i'm going to do it at least once a week. i think erik
is going to begin writing again too.

so many thanks to all of you.

all my love

john

some Uma love

2007-04-24T09:41:00.000-07:00

FROM BONNIE:

"I wanted to let you know that the showcase I'm producing is doing its curtain call to HEY YA in honor of Uma. It's even a blurb in our program that we want all in attendance to dance for Uma during our curtain call. So... Just wanted to be sure you knew there are at least 40 people on stage three nights this week (and another hundred in the audience each night) all dancing FOR UMA."

Thank you for continuing to spread the love and goodwill, Bonnie!

An Uma update from my mom, 4/20/07

2007-04-20T21:23:00.000-07:00

(the above photo of Uma and my mom--Sherry--was taken on Mother's Day, 2006)

I JUST GOT THIS UPDATE FROM MY MOM:

How wonderful it is to be able to visit Uma at home instead of in the hospital. I had my first opportunity to hang out with her at home yesterday, and it was very special. Colleen was there when I arrived, and John was in his home music studio working. Colleen left and Uma and I got cozy in the bed to watch a DVD that I had brought—“Ever After.” I was in the mood for a fairy tale, and Uma seemed to like the idea, too. So we watched the movie while John worked in the next room, and we took turns dozing since the plot was too familiar to keep us awake when we were both a little sleepy. As we watched, Uma had her right arm in the removable cast that she wears as much as possible as part of her therapy. It can get very uncomfortable for her, so it was great that she was able to keep it on for several hours.

After the movie, we talked—mostly about movies and TV shows, but also about other things. At one point, we talked about “Grey’s Anatomy,” and I asked her if she was going to watch the new episode that was on last night. She started to explain and couldn’t get the words out and appeared very frustrated. John came in and started asking her questions. He has a way of helping her express herself that no one else can match. We figured out that she really wanted to watch Grey’s, but also really didn’t because she had missed several episodes and didn’t want to watch them out of order. At one point in our conversation, she said, “I want to watch…” She often gets stuck after “I want” so it was good to see her forming a sentence.

Another time when I was trying to get her to repeat a sentence, John came in and counted with her to three and then she said it perfectly. The counting gives her time to prepare, and then she does much better. She is best able to form words and sentences when she watches the lips of the person she is talking to. At one point, she said the word “scenario.” I wasn’t sure what she was trying to say, but it’s clear that she’s working hard at it and the words are coming to her. They might not be the right words for what she is trying to say, but it is a start.

In response a look of frustration from Uma, John explained to her that he and everyone else can see that she is an intelligent woman and the same person she’s always been—that she just needs to work at being able to once again express herself through words. The way he explains this is so loving, so patient, yet also gently demanding. He stops her when she is frustrated and looks into her eyes and offers reassurance that he understands her plight and will be there to help her through—but also reminds her that she has to work at it no matter how frustrated she gets.

Toward the end of my visit, Uma’s friend, Lauren, arrived with a tray of cupcakes. I said goodbye to Uma and left feeling rested and grateful for the time I had spent with her. Uma will resume serious therapy next week, and she is getting some much-needed down time during her first week at home. John says they are sleeping well without all the interruptions and noises that invaded their privacy in the hospital. John is trying to get back to work while tending to all of Uma’s needs and making arrangements for her therapy. I worry about him because the role of primary caregiver is so exhausting, even when you get back as much love as Uma gives. There is also the tremendous sense of responsibility for so many things, from making sure she eats well and gets the quality of care she needs to making sure the bills get paid. We need to help John keep his strength up so he can help Uma keep her strength up, because no one does that better than John. I think he will ask for help, but probably not as much as he should. He needs quiet time alone with Uma, and he needs time to be away from her to do his work and time to be away and restore himself by doing whatever helps him to re-energize. I say this to direct your prayers and positive thoughts toward the support that John and Uma need to get through this healing process so that she can be fully recuperated in every way. We have already seen what can be accomplished when so many people pull together in love and hope—Uma has come so far with that power behind her, and I know she will keep making progress every day because she is surrounded by so much love and support and is very determined to reclaim her independence.

Joe's column about Uma

2007-04-19T21:34:00.000-07:00

My step-dad has been writing a weekly column in the Orange County Daily Pilot for the last few decades, and today's column is about Uma...I thought I'd reprint his column here for y'all...

(the above photo of Uma and Joe was taken last August, at my birthday dinner)

THE BELL CURVE:
Courage and hope despite odds

By JOSEPH N. BELL

My dear friend Uma Nithipalan went home last Tuesday, 77 days after she got on a plane in Los Angeles to fly to New York and join her husband-to-be who was awaiting her there for a brief visit. Twice in those 77 days, the people who love her were told that Uma had only a 20% chance of ever making that trip home alive.

But medical opinion turned out to be no match for the wave of prayer and love that washed over her.

The love came from hundreds, maybe thousands, of friends of Uma who met her and followed her story in the blog of my stepson, Erik Patterson.

This cornucopia of hope and, finally, conviction grew daily, first among Uma's dear friends. But very quickly, they told their friends who told their friends who told other friends, all of whom seemed to find in the courage and determination of these three young people a reason to look — even if only for a few moments — beyond the horrors taking place in our world today to a crusade anchored in the certainty that a reservoir of goodness remains, with the power to bring about results that could be seen as miraculous.

Uma is a native Sri Lankan and a citizen of the world who graduated, with Erik, from Occidental College in Los Angeles eight years ago. Uma was Erik's closest friend then, and she has remained his closest friend ever since. And when Uma fell in love with John Ballinger last year, John became Erik's second-closest friend.

That's the way it was when Uma got on the plane to New York last Jan. 30 to celebrate the engagement ring John had given her at Christmas. John, who is a fine and versatile musician, was playing a gig in Manhattan with the troupe that took "Dancing with the Stars" on the road. It was a job he wanted badly and was enjoying immensely. And it paid him well enough to bring Uma to New York to share it at least briefly.

John was working when Uma arrived at his hotel, but she was waiting in his room when he finished and hurried to her side. And a few hours after that joyous meeting, before the morning light, this wonderfully healthy 27-year-old woman was in convulsions, writhing in pain, gasping for breath.

An ambulance rushed her to the nearest hospital where five precious hours went by before she was diagnosed with a brain aneurism and transferred to another hospital equipped and staffed to treat her.

Thus started the journey of these three remarkable people.

A few hours after John called him, Erik was on his way to New York. He had joined John at St. Vincent's Hospital when the first desolate news was delivered by the doctor heading the team that treated Uma. She was in an induced coma, he said, critically ill, with, at best, a 20% chance of surviving.

That's when the two men in her life, staggered at first by the news, decided that they simply would not allow it to happen. And from that moment until she went home last Tuesday, one or both of them were constantly at her side. And so were the prayers they pleaded for in the long, poignant e-mails and blogs they sent daily to the folks back home. Always factually straight. And always upbeat. "Here are the facts," they seemed to say, "but the reality is Uma's full recovery."

That's the way it was through the first three weeks.

One minor setback after another, somehow dealt with.

But always there was the fear of stroke attacking her nearly defenseless body. If only she could get past that, they could all relax a little. And they almost had it made when stroke abused her body once again — and once again the doctors delivered the 20% lifeline of hope. And so the volume was turned up on the call for help, and the response was quick and sure. Uma fought off the grim predictions, resumed her recovery, and a little over a month ago was on her way back to rehab in Los Angeles.

That required a new miracle. Only an air ambulance could deliver her, and that cost more than $20,000. So Erik fired up his blog and told Uma's army the problem — and within four days more than enough money poured in to pay for the air ambulance. So now, after four weeks in a rehab facility, Uma is walking with a cane, communicating with beautiful smiles and nods and grimaces as she relearns speech a word at a time, expressing a range of emotions from frustration to joy, and flashing wonderful glimpses of the old Uma.

It's impossible to convey the almost lyrical flavor of the hope and love and determination in the reports that came from John and Erik every day since Uma was stricken. They could and should be edited into a fine and inspirational book. Here's just a taste from John, written when he went home for the first time in several months, after he and Uma returned to Los Angeles:

"I look around our house and see all the physical things that make up our life together — the little things like a receipt for a dinner we had, the new spice rack she bought while I was on tour, notes on the refrigerator, photographs that she put up on the wall, the Christmas tree she hadn't taken down and where she left her nightgown before flying off to New York.

"Her essence and personality seem very much to be there and intact. Her sense memory of me and trust in me seem to be just as present. But exactly where are her memories? Will she remember any lines from the play that won her an award from LA Weekly? Or how long it took her to breathe again after I asked her to marry me? And does it really matter? Maybe the essence of things is what I will lean on for a while.

"Her rehabilitation will take place for many years in some ways, but the bulk and the foundation of it will be done over the next four months to a year. So I'm asking again for your spiritual help for Uma. I really believe she has come this far due to the prayers and love sent her way by all of you. And she needs this again, just as much as before."

I was privileged to be among the people who love Uma and received the daily reports from her bedside.

A few days before she returned home, I visited her at the rehab center and reminded her of an inside joke we shared. And her eyes lighted up and met mine, and her smile was broad and understanding, and I thought of the final sentence in one of John's latest reports: "Tomorrow," he wrote, "is Easter, and Uma will rise up and walk."

Home, Sweet, Home...and some things to visualize re: Uma's speech

2007-04-18T00:07:00.000-07:00

So...Saturday night was the practice night at home...Uma still had to go back to the rehab facility for two more nights...but now she's officially checked out and HOME!

The latest update:

I just got home from spending the evening with Uma and John AT THEIR HOUSE (because Uma is HOME, finally!) (as in, NO MORE FREAKING HOSPITALS), and I was about to write an Uma update, but then I got John's update, and he says everything I wanted to say. So please read his email below. I'll just add a couple of thoughts:

(1) Hanging out with Uma at her own home after so many days of hospitalness is one of the greatest things in the world.

(2) It's been a while since I've asked you all to visualize anything...keep visualizing her brain finding new pathways to get the words out. It has become very clear that Uma DOES have her memories and that her personality is intact--which is one of the big things we've been praying for--and I can tell you that Uma is Uma, inside and out, in all of her wonderful, snarky, loving, Umaness. The final piece of the Uma puzzle that Uma needs to express all of her Umaness is, obviously, her words. I've been working with her on her speech whenever she'll let me. I've been trying to make it fun, or if not fun, to make it at least not seem like "work." To make it as casual as possible. Because working on her speech gets really frustrating for her and it's taxing and she only tolerates it in short bursts. Basically where she's at with her speech is:

(a) She comprehends what is being said to her and she can give very definitive "yes" and "no" responses.

(b) She can starts sentences: "I want..." "You want..." "We want..." "It's like..." "No, but..." etc., but she can't yet finish her sentences.

(c) She can read and comprehend written words.

(d) She can read written words aloud. But sometimes it takes her a few times to get them right. Life, for instance, we were reading the months of the year and she read "February" as "Debuary," but then we worked on it and she got out "February." Using the dry-erase board, and working with Uma for about forty minutes, I heard her say every day of the week, every month of the year, several names of friends, names of several restaurants in Los Feliz (I asked her which restaurant she most wants to eat at in the area, and she chose the Edendale Grill), as well as some sentences that I had written on the dry-erase board. Sometimes she'll get stuck on a word. Like, she got "Monday" down really well, and then we moved to "Tuesday" and she said "Monday" again. But she knew it was wrong and then she got that look of "ooooo I'm so frustrated" and I said Tuesday for her and she looked at my mouth and watched how the movement worked and she got "Tuesday" out. One of the tricks I learned from her weekend speech therapist at the rehab facility was to help ease her into saying words by giving the word a build-up. For example, if you ask her what color the sky is, she has trouble finding the word out of nowhere. Like, the words in there in her head, but her "word file" is all scrambled and so she gets frustrated because she has no idea where that word is, and she keeps thinking and the more she thinks the more lost that word gets. Like when you can't find your keys and you look all over the house and then thirty minutes later you find your keys on the dresser, which was the first place you looked. Her words are sitting somewhere in her brain and right now she's looking all over her damned brain to find them, and when she eventually does find them it'll be like, duh, they were right there all along. She also has trouble repeating words sometimes. She hears what you're saying and she knows the word, but mimicking and repeating that word back to you isn't always the easiest thing. BUT, when you saying something to her like, "red, white, and...," she can finish the phrase without skipping a beat. She'll say "blue" very clearly and fully. Much more easily than if you were to ask, "what color is the sky?" Anyway, we were working on days of the week and I was trying to say things that would fluidly lead to a "fill in the blank" moment with each day of the week, and the phrases I was coming up with were kind of pathetic, but Uma and I had a really nice moment with "Sunday." I asked her to think about "that one U2 song," and then I started singing "blahblah bloody blahblah...blahblah bloody blahblah" and she laughed at me, but she knew the song, of course, and then she sang with me, "Sunday bloody Sunday...Sunday bloody Sunday..." She sang each word completely perfectly and clearly, and she even sang the words with perfect pitch and melody.

Hopefully that gives all of you a really clear image of where Uma's speech is right now and the kind of progress we want to visualize for her in this area. Visualize Uma being able to find the words that she wants to find, visualize those words creating a new pathway from her brain to her mouth, so that she can get the words out without having to read them. Visualize the beginnings of sentences AND the ends of sentences, like, streaming out of her mouth. Hear her voice in your head--it's a good voice, and we're hearing more and more of it every day--let's help Uma continue to push that voice out into the air.

Also, one last thing: please keep sending Uma your loving energy so that she has the strength to get through her frustration. She is massively frustrated about not being able to communicate as fully as she's used to communicating. This whole not-being-able-to-speak-fully thing is still very new to her--we were talking to Uma and we discovered that her clear memories of the last 77 days really begin about two weeks ago. After she had the new shunt, after her ventricles decreased, and after she was finally off a lot of the medications she was on...so, while we've been helping her fight through this brain ordeal for the better part of the last three months, it still feels relatively fresh to Uma and she's still dealing with the newness of feeling like: WOW, I HAD A BRAIN ANEURYSM BURST AND HOW I LIVE MY LIFE HAS CHANGED DRAMATICALLY. Fortunately, I think the thing that keeps Uma strong is that even though so much has radically changed ( i.e. having to relearn how to speak, having to relearn how to walk, etc.), the most important part of her life is still there and 100% grounded and unchanged in his love for her (or, if it's changed, it's changed in a good way--it's grown), and that's John. He's amazing and I am in awe of him every day (and before I go to bed I send him love and energy too, so that he will continue to have the strength to be as 100% as he is).

Much love to all of you, and here's JOHN'S UPDATE:

MONDAY NIGHT:

Hi everyone,

I'm lying in the cot that Colleen Kane loaned to me,
right next to Uma's hospital bed. I've just put both
her night time casts on....one for the right leg, one
for the right arm. She tolerated the leg cast for 2
hours the first night, 3 the next until the pain from
keeping her leg straight and her foot bent at a right
angle was just too much. She can tolerate the arm cast
for about 6 hours a night. We just cut short an
episode of 6 feet under (thank you again Sezin!)
because she was tired. I hear her yawn, the hospital
bed inflating and deflating strategically to prevent
bed-sores, and the noise of the nursing station
through the closed door of her room. This is our last
night here.

The length of each day in hospital is just profound. I
remember, before all this happened, how I would
complain that my days seemed shorter and shorter the
older I got. The last 76 days seem to be my entire
lifetime. This feeling, in a lot of ways, carried over
into our 'over night pass' last Saturday night and
into Sunday.

On Saturday we went home after her therapy was over.
There was a mistake on the part of the doctors and
charge nurse on the previous day in that they forgot
to make arrangements with the pharmacy to get us her
medication and that, although the doctor signed the
order, the charge nurse didn't file it. We had to cut
short our In 'n' Out burger lunch to return to the
hospital for the medication. But we made it home and
later that night I cooked for Uma, Erik, myself, and
my brother Wayne. They all thought it tasted amazing.
I'm not tasting food so well yet. Maybe soon. It was a
really great night. It felt so good to be home. Out of
all the things I thought would be deeply felt by me,
the one that stands out is how wonderful it was to
sleep or sit or cook or eat and feel the breeze coming
in through the open windows. The other feeling that
stands out is how wonderful it was not to have to wake
up and see someone taking Uma's blood pressure or
giving her a breathing treatment.

On Sunday we slept in. I cooked a big breakfast and we
began the 6 feet under fest. It was pretty heavenly I
have to tell you. She was so happy and looked so
peaceful. Lying there in our bed, windows open, breeze
and the sounds of life coming in.

But another feeling I didn't expect was that of being
overwhelmed. In some ways, leaving the hospital is
scary - not as scary as being IN one but
still......She can do very little right now. I will be
cooking, cleaning, doing the laudry, shopping for us,
making all the plans for everything, and creating
anything that needs creating. And by all accounts, she
will be trusting me with all of this. And, almost all
the time, that is comfort enough.

TUESDAY NIGHT:

Now it is Tuesday night. I just couldn't stay awake to
finish last night. We've been home since about 1pm.
She watched TV and napped while I cleaned house and
clothes, made order of all that I could, threw away
MANY things, and napped myself. Erik came over about 4
just as Uma and I were about to have tea on the front
porch. (we've never had tea there.....I just thought
it would be nice - especially since my brother rebuilt
the porch). He joined us but soon I went in to tend
to the business of "follow-up" for Uma. Erik started
working with Uma with the writing board, using
creative ways to cover the spelling, choosing, and
saying the days of the week, months of the year and
what typically happens in those months, phrases common
to americans, etc. They laughed a lot but got a lot
done, too. I went to the market and made dinner for
the three of us: salmon grilled in garlic, butter,
carmleized onions and tomatoes, salad of field greens
and carrots, steamed broccoli and baked red potatos.
Why not, right? It's better than hospital food.

While Erik washed the dishes I showed Uma a notepad
that I found on the couch upon my return to L.A. On it
she had written dozens of notes about her life....like
an outline of the story of her whole life. The
captions were telling and deep, and sometimes very
funny. They spanned from her very early childhood to
now. The amount of words she can say and the clarity
with which she will respond to me made it very easy to
determine that she remembers all of this. Erik came in
and I told him what we were doing and he said to Uma,
"You remember all of this?" She nods and says, "yes,
but...." and I say, "Do you remember everything except
the aneurysm and the New York hospital?" and, before I
even finish the sentence, she says, "Yes". I like
that......."Yes".

So.....there are so many things to do and so much work
to be done for her - her right arm and hand, her
speech, her balance and walking, her sense of herself
and the community, getting the right kind of help for
her in and out of the home, finding a way for me to be
in my life, me learning to manage all of this too,
etc, etc, etc. ......but tomorrow is a day off from
all of it. We are going to have a Kathy Bates film
festival tomorrow. Erik and asked her, again via the
write board, if she wanted a film fest of an actor or
actress? She wanted an actress. He began writing
several names down and I blurted out, "What about
Kathy Bates?" Well....she ended up picking that and
then we listed the more memorable movies she's been in
and Uma and I will go down the street tomorrow
sometime to Jerry's video reruns and get as many as we
can. In between shows I'll do range of motion on her
right arm, make her stretch her right leg and do
resistance exercises with it, cook, eat, nap, etc. and
generall try and ignore the phone.

That being said, visitors are welcome here after
tomorrow. Please email me or call and tell me what
you're thinking of.

There was a man, a father, in the waiting room with us
at St. Vincent's in New York. His 22 year old daughter
was hit by a bus. He updated me via email tonight and
told me they are finally leaving to go to Columbia. He
and I shared a lot of moments together that are simply
indescibable. He and I know something about life that
not everyone does. I wrote back to him, among other
things, that Uma was lying next to me in OUR bed and
that with all the love I feel for her I am praying
with my whole soul for his beautiful daughter and for
him. The tears that came were different than the ones
I cried earlier today. They felt better somehow.

Thank you all for praying for Uma and thank you in
advance for the prayers and love you will be sending
her in the future.

Love,
john

a very nice, relaxing saturday night

2007-04-14T21:52:00.000-07:00

I just got home from having dinner with Uma, John, and Wayne (John's brother) at John and Uma's house. YEAH, you read that right. At their house. As in, not the freaking hospital. I have lots of other things to say, but before I get into a full-on post (I'm feeling tired and probably won't write up a new update until tomorrow) I just wanted to shout out to the world because, hello, how awesome is it that Uma is at home with John??? So awesome. We spent the evening hanging out on their couch watching American Idol, after eating a delicious meal of angel hair pasta with chicken and veggies (curtesy of John, the cook). Yes, there's a long road ahead, and Uma's already tired of therapy and frustrated that her words aren't all there yet. But the simple fact that Uma's at home is something to celebrate! Have a glass of wine with someone you love, splurge and order that piece of chocolate cake you weren't going to order, get up and dance. These are truly good times.

Dry erase board "tests"

2007-04-13T23:22:00.000-07:00

Uma had a really good day today, lots of therapy and she's making steady progress. During speech therapy, the therapist encouraged us use the dry erase board to write words for Uma because it's easier for her to read them than to have to come up with them out of thin air. So after therapy ended, I spent an hour writing words for her and having her read them to me. She had varying degrees of success with the reading--some words were easier than others, sometimes she'd get stuck on a word, sometimes she's kind of get it but not quite. However, I gave her some "tests" to take on the dry erase boards, asking her to circle certain words and match certain words, and she got every single question right. No help from me, no hesitation. These are all really exciting signs. I took a few photos, these are just six of the tests that Uma got perfect scores on today:

(1) I asked her to match the names of family members and friends with their professions:

(2) I asked her to match specific dates with their significance:

(3) I asked her to match the names of favorite television characters with the names of the actors who portrayed them:

(4) I asked her to match the first names of friends with their correct last names:

(5) I asked her to circle the names of everyone who she's ever lived with:

There were more dry erase board "tests," but these were the ones I took pictures of. She got 100% correct on EVERYTHING i threw at her, even things like "circle the name of the street you live on" hidden within a list of numerous street names. This is so encouraging. We've been worried about her losing memories, but I feel like these little tests prove that a lot of her past is definitely still in there.

Oh, and we watched the Ellen Degeneres show, and when she started dancing we both got jiggy. I took some video. It's crappy video footage because I was dancing while I took it, so it's all shaky, but I'm posting it because I think it's nice to see Uma getting her groove on a little bit.

a few updates, kinda behind on posting...

2007-04-13T02:53:00.000-07:00

I’m on a writing deadline and I’ve been working pretty strenuously which means I haven’t been out to see Uma since Sunday, and I haven’t even posted an Uma update from last weekend, and I’m going to see her again tomorrow (Friday) and I really want to post an update before tomorrow because if I wait until after tomorrow then I’ll have all of these NEW things to say and maybe I won’t get to last week’s update. And there are too many good things to report from last weekend that I don’t want to skimp out on any of them. Even though it’s 2am. I just drank a really huge thing of Coca-Cola, so I think I’ll have sufficient energy to write a long update right now. Okay, so. Here goes.

I’m gonna do it list-like, since this blog hasn’t seen a list in a while.

1. I spent a lot of time with Uma last weekend. She's doing incredibly well, but I don't think she knows how well she's doing because I don't think she can relate to just how dire her situation originally was. She tries to talk and she can't find the words and then she gets incredibly frustrated. But there was a time not so long ago when she wasn't even TRYING to talk, and then there was a time not too long before that when she was in a motherfreaking coma. So not being able to find the right words right now--even though it's incredibly frustrating for her--it's okay, because the words are in there, and her brain is going to retrain itself to find those words.

2. That being said, it's really frustrating and hard to watch her being frustrated. John is amazing and so in tune with her and really good at guessing what she's trying to express. Thank god for John. Seriously, I have a bottomless bucket of love for him because he's just so GOOD.

3. She has certain phrases that she can say really well. She says them so well, in fact, that she gets stuck on them. I think what's happening is that she gets stuck when she's really TRYING to express herself, and these certain words and phrases that she's gotten DOWN are words and phrases that she doesn't have to think about anymore. So they come out easily, and then when she starts TRYING to express herself…that's when the word clog-up occurs.

4. Like the phrase "I want." She has that phrase motherfucking DOWN. She can say that phrase like nobody's business. But then..."I want...I want...you want...I want...we want." She gets stuck. On Saturday, I was sitting with her and she started in on the "I wants" and I was trying to find the rest of the phrase for her..."something to drink?" No. "To go to the bathroom?" No. "To go for a walk?" No. "To go home?" A look of frustration because YES that's a definite want, but NO that's not THIS want. I rattled through MANY possibilities, and then I stumbled upon: "To watch an episode of Six Feet Under?" And finally Uma gave me the most exasperated "YES" ever in the history of exasperated yeses.

5. So we watched an episode of Six Feet Under. It was the second episode of the first season.

6. It felt so nice to watch Six Feet Under with Uma because this is a show that Uma and I used to watch together when it was originally on, when we lived together. We didn't have HBO so my mom would tape the show for us and then we'd get the tape and sit in our respective bunk beds and quietly cry together because just about every episode would make us cry at least once.

7. And one of the things that I love about watching TV with Uma is that we’re both kind of obsessive when it comes to our TV viewing habits (kind of?) and we know to give each other some space at the end of something like an episode of Six Feet Under. To, like, let the waves of emotion pass.

8. This particular episode that we watched on Saturday naturally made both of us cry. And that felt normal, and nice. Normal isn’t something that we’ve felt a whole lot lately because there’s not much normal about this crazy brain roller coaster that Uma’s been riding. We cried at the very end of the episode--when Brenda tells Nate and David to meet her on a particular bus and then once she has them on the bus she tells them it's the bus that killed their dad.

9. Tears. Gushing. We were babies.

10. Shout out to Sezin, who sent Uma the box set of the entire Six Feet Under series. Such a wonderful gift, and one that will be savored and watched over and over again. Thank you, Sezin. Uma is definitely enjoying it--I believe she's on episode five now. It really helps pass the time in the hospital to be able to transport to the Land of Alan Ball for a while.

11. Oh, and Claire and Ruth both made Uma and I laugh several times. How freaking good are Lauren Ambrose and Frances Conroy? So good.

12. The recreational therapist plays card games with Uma, and Uma gets into them. She loves playing card games anyway, so it's kind of nice that card games are actually THERAPEUTIC. Who knew? On Saturday, she played Solitaire for a while, and then Zack Graham came by for a visit, and Marie and I were both there, and the therapist suggested that we play a game of Crazy 8's so that everyone could play, and Uma was into that idea, so the therapist dealt out the cards and we embarked on an incredibly competitive few games of Crazy 8's. We had fun (except Marie totally cheats) (and I know that when she reads this she is going to get defensive and say that I'M the one who cheats, but she'll be lying) (SHE'S the cheater).

13. There was absolutely no transition between my "Lauren Ambrose and Frances Conroy are so good" comment and my introduction of the recreational therapist. Sloppy blogging.

14. But I realized I’d gone on long enough about Six Feet Under. I mean, come on. Move on.

15. Oh my god. The food. I have to talk about the food they feed Uma at the hospital. So gross. I mean, it's getting better now that she's eating solid foods and no longer stuck with the pureed goo. But still. Uma is going to be so happy when she gets to eat GOOD food again. Food with flavor.

13. The word on the street (from John) is that Uma’s going to be making pizza in her occupational therapy session tomorrow (Friday). That should be fun.

14. But back to what she’s been eating, they give her really bland hospital food, and when she was eating lunch last Saturday there was a piece of bread on her tray and she was about to eat it when she grabbed the sugar packet. She couldn’t open the sugar with just her left hand, so I opened it for her and then she poured all of the sugar on her bread and ate this piece of bread like that. I was totally perplexed because I’ve never seen Uma eat a piece of bread like that and she’s never really been much of a sugar person, but John told me that she used to eat her bread like that in Australia. Apparently it’s an Australian thing. So that’s new to me, and now we just have more proof that Uma has extremely odd eating habits.

15. Speaking of sugar, Marie sent me the following text message a couple of days ago: "I'm in the grocery store and just had a panic moment with I realized easter was over. I am buying fifteen cadbury eggs." A little backstory: when we were in New York, Marie and I discovered that we're both freaks for the cadbury egg. We love the cadbury egg. We would both marry the cadbury egg if it was legal. And then we would eat the cadbury egg, that's how much we love the cadbury egg.

16. So then I text messaged Marie back and asked her to buy me fifteen cadbury eggs as well, because what if they're all gone by the time I get my own lazy ass to the supermarket? That just wouldn't do.

17. I like the image of Marie buying 30 cadbury eggs at the supermarket. I was about to say "it's a really sweet image," but then I realized the pun and decided against saying that.

18. I was talking to Uma and I told her that she was my hero. She gave me the fakest smile ever. I mean, THE FAKEST SMILE EVER. So then I asked her, “you don’t want to be anybody’s hero, do you?” And then she gave me a real smile, a warm smile, the kind of smile you give someone when they really get you, and then she said, very clearly, very firmly: “That’s right.” So I told her, “okay, no worries, I won’t call you my hero anymore, but you’re doing really fucking good and I’m not gonna stop letting you know that.” Maybe she doesn’t want the pressure of being anyone’s “hero” and I totally get that. But she’s a strong mofo and it’s good to remember that, and to remind her of that. She’s going to need that strength as she her road of recovery.

19. I got to be with her while her therapist took her for a walk up stairs again for the first time. And when I say that the therapist “took her,” I don’t mean to imply that the therapist was doing any of the work for Uma, because Uma was definitely doing all of the walking. She walked up and down two flights of stairs and it was awesome. By the time she got back downstairs, she was completely exhausted, but her therapy session wasn’t over. She still had to do exercises in the therapy room, including three sets of ten leg presses. The therapist asked her to count off her leg presses, which Uma did, and while she was doing her second set she got visibly tired…so as she was counting, she went “one, two, three, four, five, six…(pause)…ten.” And then she looked at the therapist as if to say, “you were really paying attention?” And then the therapist said, “nice try” and made Uma finish out the set. But what I loved about that moment was that Uma was being mischievous. She was tired and she was totally trying to trick her therapist into letting her off the hook for a few of those damned leg presses. She wasn’t forgetting the numbers, she was trying to beat the system. And that shows signs of the kind of cognitive thinking and comprehension that we want, that we love, that we need.

20. Please keep praying for Uma and for continued neurological improvements. For her to find her words. She needs her words. All of ‘em. Because she’s good with words. In all of the years that I’ve known Uma, I’ve seen her grow a lot. I think she went through a long period where she didn’t really trust the world and it’s like, in the last few years, she started letting the world back in, trusting it again. And she’s opened up in a lot of ways, and she’s gotten to a place where I think she’s really able to accept love and to give it, fully, in a heart-on-her-sleeves kind of way that’s completely honest and raw and true. So when I pray…which is something that I never used to do, but that I do pretty much all the time now…when I pray (to the universe, to god, to all of the collective energy that we put out there), I think about all of the love that I’ve seen Uma put out there into the universe…and I visualize her being open to all of the love that’s coming back to her right now during this crazy, weird time…and I continue to say the refrain that I started saying back in New York, all of those many, many days ago when Uma was in her coma: “Please let Uma Nithipalan have a full neurological recovery.” I visualize her brain finding new channels, new ways to get those words out…the words that we all know are there, we gotta keep visualizing them coming out. And I pray for her to have strength, and for John to have strength, because we know this road to recovery is going to be long (but there’s a road!) (and we weren’t always sure there was going to be a road!) (and so that’s something to celebrate every single day!)…and I hope and I pray that this will whole experience will make Uma stronger, will solidify the feeling that the world is a good place, a place that we should keep trusting. That even though we’re sometimes thrown these incredible curveballs—that even though her life has taken this crazy detour—all of the energy and goodwill that’s been manifested since that scary day at the end of January, it’s all ultimately good, and we’re all going to be stronger for how we catch that ball and run with it. I don’t know anything about sports, so I probably shouldn’t have tried to use a sports analogy just now, but what I’m trying to say is that, maybe, through all of this, we’ll all become a little bit better at expressing our love. I realize it’s the middle of the night and I’m on a whole lot of caffeine right now, but that’s really the ultimate lesson that I feel like life’s been teaching us lately.

I should go to bed now. I’ll have more Uma updates soon, I promise. In the meantime, here are two very detailed updates from John. (I really wish there was a gay Ballinger, by the way.) (I think maybe I’ve said it before, but it’s kind of a shame, because I really want to marry into the Ballinger family.)

JOHN’S UPDATE FROM APRIL 7

Today is April 7th. 67 days after Uma’s “insult” as
they call it. I’ve been spending virtually all my time
at the rehab place since we arrived back there from
the shunt revision. But today, Erik and Marie are
giving me a much needed break. I’ll be gone from there
about 7 hours and will be cleaning our house and doing
the laundry because on Monday the therpists will drive
Uma home where I’ll meet them and we will look at what
needs to be done or obtained for Uma upon her
permanent return, which will be most likely on April
17th.

Some of the things she is doing now include but are
not limited to:
walking with a cane to the bathroom
walking all the way back from the PT gym with a cane
and a brace and virtually no help from the therapist
eating regular food (her g-tube is out!)
spelling and reading many words
saying some words
looking through her new eyeglasses (“wow” was her
response upon “seeing” again)
beating people at card games
getting extraordinarily frustrated with her speech
problems - this is not really bad - imagine what it
would be like if she wasn’t AWARE that she wasn’t
speaking well? THEN where would she be?

So - she has really come a long way in a short time.
What is coming for her next is, after another week to
ten days of in-patient therapy, going to the same
facility for out-patient rehab AND having this
augmented by our own private efforts which are being
worked on now. She will most likely have her
tracheostomy removed early next week which I’m sure
will make her feel much better about everything. And
we will live at home again soon. Her rehabilitation
will take place for many years in some ways but the
bulk of it, the foundation of it will be done over the
next 4 months to a year. Out idea now is to begin very
intensive speech therapy and physical therapy for her
right arm and leg as soon as possible. The pace she is
going at now is appropriate for her physical health
but she is recovering quickly and soon will be able to
sustain more therapy throughout the day. The problem
is that the county doesn’t provide for that intensive
of a program so, as I said, we will look to augment
this to the extent that she can handle it.

I look around our house and see all the physical
things that make up our life together - the little
things like a receipt for a dinner we had, the new
spice rack she had bought while I was on tour, notes
on the refrigerator, her keys and cell phone,
photographs and things hanging on the walls that she
put up, the new color on the walls in the den that she
picked out and painted, where she left her nightgown
before flying to New York on January 30th......and I
assign great meaning to many of these things as
physical representations of my memories of her and us,
both every-day and specific to events. The memories
occupy and physical and electro-chemical place in my
brain. All arguments to the contrary aside, MY brain
is not damaged, but hers is. And I wonder what she
will remember....will she rememeber the necklace I
gave her? or the one she gave me? or the play she was
in that won her the LA Weekly award? or any lines or
expressions from that play? Will she remember how long
it took her to breathe again after I asked her to
marry me? and so on......

I won’t know this for a very, very long time and yet I
have based my life on relating to my experiences and
relying on my memories to guide me physically,
emotionally, and spiritually. I was talking with my
brother about this last night. Maybe the essence of
things is what I’ll lean on for awhile. Her essence
and personality seem very, very much to be there and
intact. Her sense memory of me and trust in me seems
to be just as present. But exactly where are her
memories? Does it really matter? I don’t know and I
don’t know how I’ll be letting go of this, at least
temporarily, but I will have to let it go along with a
lot of other things, too.

Maybe that’s enough of the diary....there are some
actually funny moments too that I should share.

The other night she seemed very, very upset by
something and I couldn’t tell, nor could she, what it
was. After asking the basics: do you need to go to the
bathroom? does your head hurt? etc. and getting
nowhere she began and kept saying, “YOU WANT IT!
YOU......WANT!” and I’m thinking that she is thinking
about some huge life issue along the lines of - I want
her to live and keep working but SHE is in despair.
Suddenly, she sits bolt upright and points to a pillow
at her feet that I had casually set there a few
minutes before. I said, “You don’t want the PILLOW!?”
and she, exhasperated nods, “YES!” .....so I toss the
pillow across the room and we both laugh. Later I
remembered that she doesn’t like pillows without a
pillow case - this one was case-less.

A few nights ago we were lying in the bed together
watching a dvd and began to look in each other’s eyes.
It was just one of those moments between a couple that
happens all the time but that is the real glue that
binds you together. I asked her, “Are you afraid?” and
she immediately and very forcefully said, “NO!”. The
look on her face was so fiercely clear I actually took
my face a couple of inches further away from hers. I
was startled by how much power there was in what she
said. I guess that’s the second time I got a very
purposeful ‘no’ from her.

Last night was the first time we, she actually, walked
to the bathroom. All I do is very lightly hold the top
of her pants at the back in case she slips or leans
too much. Otherwise she negotiates the whole thing.
This is just going to get better and probably at an
exponential rate for awhile. I’m sending a video of
her walking in the hallway with a physical therapist
to Erik’s blog site.

http://myyearofnewthings.blogspot.com/

Bear in mind that this was captured AFTER she had
already walked about 200 feet. I couldn’t get a good
shot without her looking before that - so in this
video she is already a bit tired. The LAST time she
did this she had to wait two or three times for about
a minute to catch her breath. This time she didn’t
stop.

....so we continue and life has completely changed for
both of us. We may go back to doing many of the things
we did before but on the inside and the way things are
perceived, that seems all different now.

Tomorrow is Easter and Uma will rise up and walk :)

love

John

AND HERE’S JOHN’S UPDATE FROM APRIL 11

hello everyone,

been a while, i know. so much has happened it's hard
to know where to start.

uma had a home visit on monday. she and two of her
therapists met me at our home to go over any changes
that need to be made for her. she walked up the stairs
and came in thru the front door on her own steam. very
nice. it turns out we didn't need to make that many
modifications because she is fairly mobile. Yesterday
my brother wayne and i made all the mods needed. it
took about 6 hours and colleen and sherry watched uma
while he and i worked.

also - yesterday morning dr. pasey took uma's
tracheostomy out. we got to his office - he had never
seen uma before this - and he was talking with her and
her erstwhile speech therapist and equivocating on
whether or not to take it out saying that her voice
sounds too soft etc. i stepped in and talked him into
it. he took it out and was, i'm not kidding you, 6
inches away from her adam'a apple cleaning the opening
and didn't notice a sutuer that was there from new
york which the previous ENT didn't take out. I said,
"wow, there's a suture there." he says, "no there
isn't." i said, "yes, there is." he says, "well, it
would help if i put on my glasses..." then he saw it
and took it out. AGAIN my question is, "what if i had
not been there." answer: she would STILL have her
trach in and STILL have a two month old suture in her
neck. amazing.

i found out on monday that there is most likely a gap
in time for her between in- and out-patient therapy
here. for some reason - back log of patients or
something - she will have to wait at least a month and
possibly two to get into the out-patient program.
so......i'm scrambling around trying to line up
private speech and physical therapists for her in the
interim. it's not easy - there are not a lot of speech
therapy options so far. what i'm truly looking for and
asking for is help with this. erik has done some
online research and given me a lot of names and i am
calling them. if anyone has any experience with this
or knows of any programs or people that could help,
please email me as soon as you can. i would rather
have options open to us than not and i honestly
believe it is medically reckless to start and then
stop this kind of therapy.

she is walking and getting around much better and is
understanding far, far more than anytime since this
happened. but her brain was so hurt, so incredibly
hurt......her right arm is still not responding and
her speech function is very, very slowly returning.
the research i've done indicates that the amount of
healing in these areas she does in the first months
indicate what her long term outlook will be. i would
love to be corrected on this, believe me. and i need
help with this, too.

i'm asking again for your spiritual help for uma. i
really believe she has come this far due to the prayer
and love sent her way by all of you. she needs this
again - just as much as before. please send all that
love to her beautiful mind and beautiful spirit -
specifically for her right arm and her speech. i would
love nothing more than to have the people at our
facility be even more amazed at her progress in the
very short time we have left in in-patient. please
get your sprirt in the place you need for this and
send the love and prayers. i see her covered in
prayer and love - each movement of her little body,
every effort by each therapist, every visit and every
act of help for her (and even me) i view as a prayer,
as a gift of love. you should see her laughing at
something or sleeping so soundly after a long day of
work or even being seriously irritated by yet another
round of vital sign taking. she's incredible. the love
she has received from all of you is incredible. if it
felt good to do it before, feel good again.

last night we were working on word fun durnig
commercial breaks of 'dancing with the stars'. i was
taking her thru 'ring', 'hand', and 'smile'. we said
those words and then i pointed out what they referred
to. this is hard for her......i would hold up her ring
and she would say 'hand' etc. but at one point when
we started over durning a commercial, i held up the
ring and said, 'what is this?' and she says, smooth as
can be, 'it's a ring' not without some incredulity.
that moment of clarity passed and we returned to her
not quite getting the concept. but the work is good
and she does as well or better with me than with her
speech person there. honestly, i think the speech
program there just doesn't add up to the words on the
sign outside the hospital, "state of the art medical
rehabilitation".

this morning after breakfast we were doing her
exercises for bed.....raising her hips, range of
motion on her right arm, etc. these things hurt her
but she does them anyway. she is trying so hard with
all of this.

yesterday i saw her outside with the physical
therapist walking on a slanted grass area that was
very uneven. she did it well.

whenver i talk about going home for some days off,
just cooking together, relaxing and watching dvds or
whatever she just moans and sighs a bit. she really
misses her life. it's been a long time.

anyway - i wish i could get internet in the hospital
room. i have blue tooth on the mac and the cell but
can't seem to get that together yet. any ideas?

i thank you all in advance for all the love you will
be sending to her. it will heal her.

all my love, john

Latest Uma update from my mom

2007-04-10T22:03:00.000-07:00

FROM MY MOM:

Uma is scheduled to go home a week from today. I spent a few hours with her at the rehab facility today, and there is such a wonderful sense of Uma getting ready to leave this place. There are no more tubes in her, she’s eating solid foods, walking remarkably well with her cane and leg brace, and looking incredibly tired of living in this place filled with hospital noises and people who are nice enough but not really part of her life and not really tuned into the fact that she intends to—and is very capable of—a complete recovery. You can’t really blame people who work in this environment for aiming for minimal results that will enable people to do basic things like feed themselves and go to the bathroom without help. That mentality would be hard to resist if you spent your entire worklife with the “disabled.” But that’s just not good enough for Uma, and everyone who knows and loves her knows that—especially John, who spent the day getting their apartment ready for Uma’s return and was so elated with the progress he made with help from his brother, Wayne.

Uma’s friend, Colleen, was there when I arrived today, and I was wearing my Uma T-shirt and it felt great to be a part of the “Uma team.” We are all going to be needed for quite some time, because Uma has a lot of work to do to achieve that full recovery and she and John are going to need a lot of love and all kinds of support. There certainly has been no shortage of that so far, and I have no doubt that whatever they need will somehow be provided.

Today, while Uma and I were leafing through entertainment magazines and watching “Ellen,” I stole a glance at her lovely profile and then remembered how she looked in the ICU in New York. Now that she is back in so many ways and taking steps every day toward that full recovery, it’s easy to lose sight of how miraculous it is that she is even breathing. But miraculous it is, and I know that a great many people who have kept Uma in their thoughts and prayers—some of whom she has never even met—have helped her get this far. Someday she will fully understand the depth and breadth of love in her life as she learns about all that has happened since January 31. What an amazing thing it is going to be to watch her heal and grow as she reclaims her life in coming months.

No one likes to spend time in hospitals, but when John returned today and it was time for me to go home, a part of me didn’t want to leave. There is something very special about being in Uma’s presence. Her beauty is profound, even more so now that she is having to reach deep inside herself for the strength and determination to confront all the new challenges in her life. We clasped hands as I was about to leave today. I didn't want to let go.

some Uma videos

2007-04-07T18:47:00.000-07:00

Check it out, Uma's Year of New Things is upgrading from still photos to video! I thought I'd post some of these very short videos (curtesy of John's cell phone and my cell phone) so you can see some of the amazing progress Uma's been making.

First, a video that John took yesterday (at least I think he took it yesterday) (regardless, it's recent). It shows Uma walking down the hall with one of her physical therapists. She's moving kind of slow because this was the end of a long physical therapy session.

(And remember, just a month ago, she was barely moving her right leg AT ALL) (so all of this movement really is quite wonderful and miraculous and exciting)

Walking on April 6th:

And to put the above video into some perspective, here are a couple of videos taken on March 24th that show Uma getting out of her wheelchair and walking. As you can see, her steps are much more tentative (and she needs a lot of help, as opposed to the above video where she's doing everything on her own and the physical therapist is acting more as a "spotter" in case Uma loses her balance).

Getting out of the wheelchair on March 24th:

Walking on March 24th:

And a sign of even MORE progress: Uma walked up and down two flights of stairs today! I took some video of her climbing the staircase, but for some reason my phone is refusing to email the videos to me right now, so check back later and hopefully I'll have them posted.

uma love

2007-04-06T09:01:00.000-07:00

a quick, little update: they took out her g-tube yesterday. that's the feeding tube that went directly into her stomach, which annoyed the hell out of her. (she would keep trying to scratch at it and pull off the tape that was holding it on.) the fact that another tube is GONE is huge, awesome. and they've said she's ready to eat more solid foods, which is also exciting because the pureed stuff they've been feeding her is kinda gross.

i'm in the midst of a big writing project, so that's why my updates have been sparce recently. i'm spending a good chunk of time with uma tomorrow, though, and i'll have more updates then.

April 4th, Uma Update

2007-04-05T00:27:00.000-07:00

Hello everyone...here are the latest Uma updates...from my mom and from John...much love to all of you...xo, erik

UPDATE FROM MY MOM:

I spent a few very special hours with Uma today, and it was wonderful to walk in and see such an enormous difference in her since my last visit a week ago. I know she is very frustrated with what must seem like incredibly slow progress to her, but the fact is, she is making dramatic steps forward. When I arrived, she was heartily eating a very boring meal of pureed food. Even though the food wasn't exciting, it must be thrilling to be getting back the capability of eating rather than having liquids poured into you through a stomach tube. And she will probably begin eating solid foods this week, so please visualize her swallowing with no problem and convincing the doctor that the stomach tube can be removed.

I shared a guilty pleasure with Uma today--watching soaps. I got a big smile when I teased her about getting me hooked on soaps. It is so easy to get caught up in the problems of those beautiful people on the screen. They are so beautiful that you can't help but enjoy their suffering. For Uma right now, just watching is part of getting back a sense of normalcy in her life, because she has long been a soap fan. We enjoyed a relaxing hour of TV before the occupational therapist arrived. One of the big focuses today was trying to help Uma strengthen her right arm. She got very frustrated when she was unable to move it, but then the therapist explained that just leaning on her right hand would help strengthen her muscles--that this is a beginning, and many patients in her condition have recovered the use of their arm. Uma seemed to be reassured by that. Her therapy also included a bit of cleaning in the kitchen, and she did a great job scrubbing the countertop. The occupational therapist works on helping Uma function in many practical everyday ways that will help her to be independent when she leaves the hospital. Uma seems to be responding to this therapy very well--a sign of how eager she must be to get home.

Next she spent an hour with the speech therapist, who had her counting and working on pronouncing words. The therapist explained that Uma is probably not able to understand complex sentences right now, but does grasp key words. So we can learn to emphasize the main idea of a sentence and keep it short when we speak to her. She does seem to understand a great deal of what is being said to her. She is also gradually finding more words to express herself, but the inability to put her thoughts into words is probably her biggest frustration right now.

John is keeping a detailed diary of her day-to-day activities and visitors are adding their messages to this journal. It's becoming a beautiful record of her recovery, and it's very helpful when the nurses come in and ask questions about Uma's activities. One nurse today said she's never seen a patient with so many visitors. And all the therapists comment on how incredible John is. He certainly has their attention--they know he's closely monitoring everything that happens, or doesn't happen, and I'm sure that's making a difference in her care.

In the midst of all of the hard work Uma is going through, and all the frustration, there is that beautiful smile. Her sense of humor is very much intact, and what a joy it is to see her face light up when something amuses her. That, more than anything, tells me she is farther along than we can even see. Each day is filled with small steps forward that will all add up to big steps down the line. It is a privilege to be a part of Uma's journey. I so admire her courage.

*

[a note from Erik: When Uma's finally able to use the internet again and she starts reading these updates, she is going to be so pissed that my mom outed her as a soap lover. But then again, I don't think she was ever very good at keeping that info in the closet. So maybe she won't be pissed. Either way, it'll be exciting that she's on the internet away, snooping and such, so I'm cool with her being pissed about the whole "out as a soap lover" thing.] [Also, while we're on the subject of loving soaps, I'll come out of the closet too and admit that Uma got me hooked on One Life to Live. Ohhhh the travails of Todd, Blaire, and Star will never be boring, no matter how many times Todd betrays Blaire and Blaire takes him back again.] [If you're also a closet soap lover--god, that phrase makes it sound like you like soaps that clean closets, not secret lovers of soap operas--anyway--if you're also a secret lover of soap operas, then take comfort in the fact that you're in good company, and next time you watch your soaps, visualize Uma curled up on her couch at home, fully recovered, enjoying those ABC soaps completely openly.]

*

UPDATE FROM JOHN:

hello everyone,

i honestly can't remember the last time i wrote or the
last time i was home. i've been staying at the
hospital over night and, since uma is now becoming
what they call a "fall risk", I've been finding it
difficult to go home.

the work she is doing is really good. she is improving
everyday in every area. today i watched her walk on a
treadmill with help from the therapists - but not very
much help at all. and then she walked back from the
physical therapy gym to her room - about 50 yards -
with her cane and a small brace on her right leg.

she has been eating orally since friday and had had
her tracheostomy "blocked" since monday evening. it
looks good for her to have the feeding tube taken off
late this week and possibly even the trach.

one of the problems with having been around there so
much is that i have, in effect, 'trained' the nurses
to rely on me to do all the transfers to the bathroom,
much of the maintenance of her airway, feeding, and
monitoring her. the other problem is that i'm now
needing to get away to work occasionally and also just
to get away. erik has been great, as usual, in helping
to get me some help during the weekdays and weekends
so that i can leave. but i have a specific request -
monday, april 9th i need to do a job that will take me
away from the hospital from about 3:30pm to 7:30 pm.
is there anyone who can come by then to make sure she
doesn't try to walk away (don't laugh - that's what is
meant by 'fall risk'.....she sometimes just tries to
get up from bed or her wheelchair and walk!)

also- along the lines of specific request - we're
looking now for world class speech and physical
therapists to augment the out-patient program she'll
be on. these specialists can be in the form of
private, in -home workers, or in the form of another
facility here in southern california. what we need
are recommendations from people who've had some direct
or even indirect connection to neurological or
post-stroke rehabilitation. the reason we're looking
for this is that the county system will only give us
so much per day and per patient on these crucial
issues and uma can accelerate much faster in these
areas even now. the work she is doing now is truly
great but we want to let her rebuild herself with no
limits if at all possible. please let me know and i
thank you in advance.

she is very clearly "in" her body - that is ....uma
exists much as she was before. the problem is that her
words don't work. she has aphasia. they are very, very
slowly coming back but the problem is that she still
has an expectation of using language....her
intelligence remains but her words are, for the most
part, gone. each day she seems to be able to follow
more of a conversation and more commands from staff
but she, as yet, can't SAY what she wants at all.
(except for 'i want pizza' which i taught her to say
when my sister sent one to the room. she tasted a bit
of it. funny how that phrase stuck with her so easily)

she can become really frustrated by this...to the
point of tears and real agitation. she can read quite
a bit and organize sentences via reading comprehension
but this has not yet translated into the spoken word
for her.

other parts of her mind seems to work very well.
sometimes something happens with us that is truly
funny - not like a joke or funny sound or accent or
sight gag but just an everyday occurrence .....putting
your arm through the wrong sleeve of a shirt etc. and
she laughs....no cues, no words. two days ago we
played the card game 'war' with the recreational
therapist. basically each player draws a card and who
ever has the highest face value takes the hand. uma
presented as someone with no problems at all. the only
sticking point was when there was a six and a nine
drawn in the same hand......she took a bit to
distinguish the two.

she had a cast on her right arm to reduce spasticity
and this now off. that thing weighed almost as much as
she did! and they've begun again with electrical
stimulation for that arm.

i just keep on it and keep pushing with all the
respect i can. we all get along very well with all the
staff and nurses. pretty soon there isn't going to be
anything for the nurses to do for her anymore. but the
discharge date is somewhat flexible - if she is doing
very well, they might keep her an extra week.

i saw the results of the follow-up ct scan yesterday.
her ventricles are smaller and look more like
ventricle are supposed to now.....sort of butterfly
shaped. they will most likely improve still. she looks
to have had a lessening of swelling and infarction but
these things did take place. techinically, after the
aneurysm, she suffered a stroke.

her character and stamina are amazing given what she
has been through. she really is the strongest person i
know. the challenges ahead for her are monumental. to
hear that she can now walk a bit, or eat some, or talk
some is very encouraging. to see it first hand each
day tells a story of many, many months and even years
before she is done working on this injury. every day
is huge - there's just no way around it. each day is
so large in every possible way for both of us. this is
the highest level of living i've ever experienced and
it can be grueling. it requires a level of stamina i
didn't think existed in me but, somehow, it's there.

i'm just thinking now of how many prayers there have
been from all those different people, many we don't
even know......it helps me to view this, as my father
said to try and do, as a gift. it's hard, believe me,
but i think this is the right path to take. how we
respond to these situations is the key to it all i
think.

i thank you all, in advance, for praying for her mind,
her spirit and her body to heal (a moment of bravery
coming....) COMPLETELY!. keep hoping and loving.

love,

john

ALSO FROM JOHN:

hello again,

forgot to mention the following links again. the first
is erik's blog spot - very nice. lots of pictures and
good perspective on all of this. the second is a place
where you can actually buy a t-shirt or other item
that has different versions of 'team uma' or 'i love
uma' etc. on it. that sight was set up by our friend
michal braun - very nice indeed. (profits go to the
fund for her now and future rehab!)

thank again.

bye

http://www.spreadshirt.com/shop.php?sid=97704

ALSO:

There's a photo album of all of Uma's hospital photos at: http://www.flickr.com/photos/theumafund/

And if you want to buy crafts made with love for Uma (all proceeds go to fund Uma's rehab):
http://www.etsy.com/shop.php?user_id=5098556

and www.teamuma.blogspot.com

Jason, prayers, Uma update

2007-04-03T13:21:00.000-07:00

I've been behind on updating the blog...if you're on my email list, you've already gotten this update...

Dear friends,

Before I get to tonight's Uma update...I have a request for all of you beautiful, amazing people who have been praying for Uma and visualizing her full recovery...I just spoke to my very good friend Sian who informed me that one of her very good friends, Jason, is in the Neurological ICU at St. Vincent's Hospital in NYC right now, after having suffered severe head trauma. (He's in the same ICU that Uma was in.) On Saturday night, Jason was walking home from a gig (he's a DJ) when he was attacked by a gang of guys outside of the club where he works—a total random act of violence—and now he's in the same hospital that Uma was in for all of those weeks, going through pretty much the same thing she was going through: there's a lot of blood around his brain and the doctors have put him into an induced comatose state while they drain the blood. That's pretty much all we know right now. Jason's in a really scary place and his family has begun to gather in the waiting room at St. Vincent's, and they have begun their waiting, waiting, waiting. I know exactly what they're going through—Jason's in a really scary place—but Uma was in the same scary place, and she's doing so amazingly well, so I want his family to know that they have to have hope. (Don't let the doctors tell you otherwise. Because sometimes they say things along the lines of "we just don't know," and they might not offer you the hope that you're begging them to give you. But don't let that stop you from hoping because HOPE freaking WORKS.)

Jason's a really great guy—he's never met Uma, but when Uma was in New York, Jason read about what she was going through and he sent a donation to The Uma Fund to help bring her home. Uma has been in Jason's thoughts—even though he didn't know her—so I thought I'd send along this message about what Jason's going through so that some people out there in the world who don't know Jason might put him in their thoughts, too. That's my request: if you've got a list of people you pray for, please add Jason to the list. Say a prayer for him, visualize the blood draining from around his brain. Tonight, tomorrow, the next day. I have seen the power of prayer and visualization—and whatever you believe, whatever you want to call it—I know that all of the love and energy we've been putting out into the universe has manifested itself in Uma, it's helped her, it brought her out of the coma. I know it did. Let's help get Jason back too, help him wake up. It's completely messed up that random, violent things like this happen. It's completely messed up that we can have brain aneurysms and not even know it and they can just pop. A lot of things are completely messed up. BUT—and here's the thing to focus on—there are so many MORE things in the world that are NOT completely messed up, and we need to take note of all of the beautiful things and people around us every day. And we need to just freaking love, you know? And express our love to the fullest.

Speaking of love:

Uma is speaking more and more. I spent a lot of the day with her today and it had been several days since I'd seen her and in those few days she has improved dramatically. It's hard for John to see all of those improvements because he's with her so much (heck, it's hard for UMA to see all of those improvements because she's just living her new, weird hospital life), but she's making so much progress and it's worth celebrating. Uma is incredibly frustrated, but she is going to get through this tough period. The words are going to come back to her, she's going to relearn the things she no longer knows.

Now that Uma has started to talk again, it's become clearer that she doesn't understand as much as we thought she was understanding. She seems to forget things and repeatedly asks things like "why can't I talk?" and "what happened to me?" And John will explain to her what she's going through and assure her that she's going to be able to talk again. See, the thing is, she's not really speaking in complete sentences yet. She'll get out the beginning of a sentence and then lose the rest of the sentence. Yesterday, John and Eleanor worked with Uma on the phrase "I want," and today I heard her say "I want" several times, and she seems to understand what the phrase means, but she wasn't able to complete the sentence and say WHAT she wants. So we would guess, and ask her: "do you want x, or y, or z?" etc., until we stumbled upon what it was that she truly wanted. And that's when Uma gets frustrated—when she's trying to express something that should be easy to express and then she hits a wall and simply can't finish expressing what she freaking wants to express. I can only imagine how difficult it must be for her to not be able to find the words, but fortunately, even though Uma hits those walls of frustration often, she doesn't give up. She's still trying to find the words, she's even initiating moments of speech (occasionally) instead of just speaking when spoken to. These are all good signs.

At one point this afternoon, I asked Uma: "Are you frustrated?" And then she said the only complete, full sentence I heard her say today: "Yeah, because I'm not in my room." I interpreted this to mean that she's tired of the hospital and just wants to be home, in her own room. It's been over sixty days since she's been there. The good thing is, she's going to be there soon. I told her that, and then I asked her if she was afraid, and she said: "I can't...here..." and then her voice trailed off. I'm not sure what she was trying to express, but I hope and pray that her brain starts firing all of those synapses soon so that Uma can fully express everything she needs to express. She's on her way.

Today was a very busy day—several visitors, and lots of eating. (Uma's eating food now!) (I almost said she's eating "real" food now, but I hesitate to use the word "real" when describing the stuff she's eating—it's all purees for the time being: carrots, veggies, potatoes, etc.) (I tried the veggie puree and it was kinda gross.) (But still, it's food that Uma's putting into her mouth rather than food that's being directly pumped into her stomach, and that's a very good thing. (Progress!)

I have some more Uma stories to share, but I need to get to sleep. I apologize for any typos in the above email but I'm too tired to go back and read this over before sending it, so I'm just gonna hit "send." And if anything's incoherent, it's because I'm falling asleep. So, in a nutshell: please pray for Uma, please pray for Jason, and please tell everyone you love how much you freaking love them.

So much love to all of you,
erik

Clinks

2007-03-30T18:03:00.000-07:00

A few things to check out:

My friend Aaron's girlfriend Kelli started up a website where she's selling handcrafted goods--ALL of the proceeds go to help pay for Uma's medical bills, etc. Very, very cool. So if you're feeling creative and you want to make something to sell for Uma, go HERE to find out how you can donate your handcrafted items. Or if you want to do some shopping and buy some very cool handcrafted clothes, etc., made with love for Uma, go HERE to do some shopping.

Also, I started up a Flickr account (at Communicatrix's awesome suggestion) to keep track of all of the Uma photos I've been posting on the blogs. The web address is: http://www.flickr.com/photos/theumafund/

Photos are divided up into four albums: hospital photos, Vandalism photos, Get Well Card photos, and random Uma photos. If you have any photos that you'd like me to add to any of the albums, send 'em my way and I'll add 'em.

latest Uma updates

2007-03-29T12:15:00.000-07:00

UPDATE FROM MY MOM:

I spent several hours at the hospital on Wednesday, mostly just sitting with Uma while she tried to sleep. She was exhausted from not having slept much the previous two nights because of her cough, and it had been a busy day of therapy. And it was very difficult for her to rest because she was still coughing. We must pray for that cough to be healed so she can get the rest she needs and build strength for her therapy.

I just want to share a couple of impressions. First, a very special moment: she answered a question by looking at me and saying "Okay" in a very clear voice. I was so startled that I forgot John's rule about not making a big deal about such things, and I did act surprised and delighted to hear her voice. It was such a beautiful sound. Uma is, indeed, coming back, but yesterday I saw how very difficult this process is. Spending a few hours watching therapists and nurses come and go every 15 minutes or so made it clear that John and Uma are in a world where there is no peace and no quiet. At one point, when it seemed things were slowing down, John laid down with Uma to help her fall asleep. For about five minutes, it was amazingly quiet, though hospital sounds in the background never stop. But those few moments of quiet were very precious. Maybe this is why Uma cried when she heard the sound of rain on a meditation CD that I played for her while John was taking a break at Starbuck's. I tried to reassure her that she would hear the sound of rain again. She listened for about 10 minutes, then took off the headphones. She'd had enough. I love how clear she is about what she does and doesn't want.

Imagine living in this hospital universe 24 hours a day and trying to maintain any sense of privacy and dignity. Imagine a very private, dignified woman like Uma trying to accept that she has no choice in this, that she must submit to all of this care in order to get well--yet she must also find a way to maintain her sense of autonomy and dignity and self-will. Sometimes this very basic human need works against her in her therapy, yet she must assert herself--even if it comes out in a lack of cooperation--because that is what keeps her sense of self intact. She is so fortunate that John understands this so well and is such a strong advocate for her in every way. But John needs a lot of support, because he is not getting much rest either, and he must keep his strength up to be able to do what he is doing for Uma.

Leaving the hospital yesterday, I appreciated my ability to walk to my car, to watch the sun go down, to go home and eat the home-cooked dinner that was waiting for me, to do simple things for myself that I take for granted. It's not fair that I can do these things and Uma can't. But that's just the way it is, and I guess it doesn't help anyone to feel guilty about it. What we can all do is treasure our everyday lives more, wake up every day with gratitude for what we have--and keep praying for Uma to get it all back.

*

UPDATE FROM JOHN:

Hello everyone,

I've been spending the night at the rehab where there
is no internet so I didn't write yesterday. My day
goes like this - get to the hospital about 10 am,
observe all the therapies, make comments and
ask/answer questions, consult with the doctors, eat
somthing and then at about 4 all the activity stops.
Usually there is someone visiting so I see them and
answer their questions and talk for awhile. At about 7
Uma and I are alone and she is usually asleep. I lay
down next to her and nap or pray or look at her.
Sometimes she wakes up and we watch a dvd until she
falls back asleep. I talk to her sometimes, tell her I
love her, remind her that this is all temporary. Then
begins her 'sleeping' time. Colleen Kane brought a
nice cot by that folds up and fits in the closet so I
usualy sleep on that with my head at her feet so I can
look at her face and more easily hold her hand at
night. I'm just a little too big to sleep in the
hospital bed all night. I stay there until about 5 am
and then go home to sleep some more. Wake up about 9,
gather myself and go back.

For the last two nights she has had a very thick cough
that crops up about every twenty minutes. I ususally
use the suction machine about 10 times a night to keep
her as clear as possible. This has continued into the
day too and today they did a chest x-ray and began
more fluids and are restarting the cool mist and
respiratory therapy to try and break up the
congestion. It's really awful seeing her cough like
that all the time. Here we are, 60 days out from the
aneurysm STILL dealing with pulmonary problems. It
severely impacts her therapy because she just can't do
much on such low energy and little sleep. I ride the
doctors and they respond. They are moving just about
as fast as they can I think. I brought it to their
attention yesterday and today the new action begins.

Yesterday in ST the therapist was having a slow hard
time, as usual (not Uma's fault - I'm working on it).
She was being asked to match little cards which had
either pictures of household items or pictures of
animals on them. No response. She was asked to trace
her name on a piece of paper. Some response. She then,
with a laugh, picked up the pen and began writing a
word and what looked like drawing a picture of a face.
At the time neither I nor the ST could figure out what
she did. It hit me later that the word was "good" and
picture was a caricature of the therapist (a very
distinctive face). And all this with her left
hand......tiny little circles for eyes and a face and
mouth. Almost forgot to say, this is the only
therapist that talks to Uma like she is five years old
and always says, "Gooooooood Umaaaaaaaa!" in a real
sing-song voice. I stepped in and explained to her why
she is in the situation she's in - the damage etc. -
and that we need to rebuild her brain just like we
would rebuild a broken arm. I told her I would "count
the numbers out loud with her so you won't be alone
and won't be the only one here doing this silly
exercise". I followed, while pointing to the
corresponding number on the page, with "one..." and
she SAYS "two" .....we then proceed to start over and
she says very clearly, "one, two, three........eight"
with me, in order, no hesitation at all. Then we try
the animal/household item cards again and she finishes
the exercise very quickly and with not a little
disgust.

At one point yesterday, while helping her in the
bathroom, she looked up at me and, even without her
speaking valve on, clearly said, "go away".....so I
hid behind a curtain and watched her shadow to make
sure she didn't fall off the toilet. And last night in
bed she began to make some sentences but stopped after
a few words - seeming to not know what the next word
was that she wanted.

Today, again while helping her in the bathroom, she
began to cry and said a couple of sentences that
contained some words in order but mostly non-sequitor
words. The context was unmistakeable - why am I not
able to do what I used to....or very similar to that.
In moments like that there is no end and no limit to
the love and comforst I have for her. Just as
unmistakeable to her in those moments is the knowlege
that she is not alone and never will be in these
trials and, for whatever it's worth, that I can feel
how hard it is for her, that it is temporary.

She is following commands better every day, making
transfers from bed to the wheelchair almost by herself
and, in fact, refusing help a lot of the time even
though she still needs it. She ate soup, potatos, and
milk today - no problem at all, and this while having
her tracheostomy completely blocked off. And at speech
therapy today she asked, in about a half-complete
sentence, "do you know why...." which was very clear
and then, "(something) don't..." and then "talk?".
The ST fumbled with a lengthy answer and soon lost Uma
again. I stepped in and told her very clearly what had
happened to her and what was happening to her and what
will happen to her. This helped a lot and we
continued. (gotta do something about that ST. Her
accent is so thick sometimes I can't even understand
her. If that isn't the definition of irony.....)

And today she got a bag of blood because she is
slightly anemic and they are going to be upping her
fluids to help with the urine and the cough and
sometime doing that can cause greater anemia. It's
interesting signing a consent form for blood. The
doctors have to tell you that there is about a one in
a million chance that she could get HIV or hepatitis
or that she could have an alergic reaction. And, along
with the blood, she gets tylenol and benadryl to ward
off the allergic reaction. So, now, she gets keppra
(antii-seizure), pepsid (anti-ulcer), heparin (blood
thinner), Detrol LA (and bladder spasm), tylenol
occasionally. Since they removed her PIC line on
Monday she had to have a separate IV installed in her
right hand. I put the mit on so she wouldn't see it
and pull it out with her left hand. And they are
watching and waiting for her heart rate to come
down.....we'll see what happens with that.

on and on and on and on and on.........the days and
nights just spill over each other like waves on a
beach - me, the bouy, chained to the bottom with
sometimes not enough length of chain.

It has come to my attention that the staff are
focusing on strengthening her left side to compensate
for the right side - rather than on restoring the
right side. They told me today that the discharge date
is April 17th from in-patient therapy. This is four
weeks. .........now I know much more what to expect.
I'm pushing so hard for work on the right side - they
resist - I push harder and they respond. But I realize
now that we will be doing this kind of thing for a
long time. Erik and I were brainstorming the other day
about what to do when she is discharged. Probably we
will augment any county arranged out-patient therapy
with something elsewhere or at home. It seem to me
that, the stronger she gets, the more work she can and
will want to do. This one hour a day for each therapy
is probably appropriate for her condition now but she
can do more later and we will provide that for her no
matter what it takes. Her personality and mind and
will and life are still in there and they are coming
OUT! We will honor this with every known and
still-as-yet-unknown opportunity for her to regain
everything she lost. I've never had to do this before
but I can't imagine anyone more qualified to get all
the help they need.

Meantime, for the prayful/thoughtful/visualize-ful,
she REALLY needs to sleep at night and REALLY needs to
be DONE with respiratory problems. Take a deep breath
and pray for her. If she can't sleep or breathe well
she's not truly getting the fullest therapeutic
experience here....and with just 3 weeks left this is
very important.

I know that I'll need help when she comes home. There
will be times when I can't take her or maybe can't
pick her up from out-patient therapy.

I plan to keep up this schedule 'till about the first
week of April. By then I really hope the staff and she
and I have the kind of relationship and patterns
established that I can work at home and spend some
time away from the hospital.

Keep her in mind, please. Before this facility, the
intrusive and acute side of medicine had a lot to do
with her recovery - but couldn't have done all that
was necessary without the prayers and thoughts of so
many hundreds of people. Now, we're a little bit more
on our own so-to-speak. It's kind of up to her, some
therpists, and our love to bring her back. Please
continue your love for her.

Feel free to email me anytime. When I'm down during
the day (and this happens each day) I like to get on
my cell phone and check emails.

All my love and respect to you all,

john

A new task for friends of Uma: A Statement of HOPE

2007-03-27T11:52:00.000-07:00

Okay, this is really freaking strange. I woke up this morning thinking about Uma (okay, that’s not the strange part, the strange part is coming—wait for it) and I was thinking that it’s been a few days since I’ve assigned a “task” for people to do, to keep thoughts of Uma out in the ether.

So I decided, okay, we need a new task today. But what should it be? And then I remembered something that Uma wrote on her MySpace page a while back. I don’t know why it popped into my head today—I haven’t read her MySpace “blog” in months—but this particular post just popped into my head.

The subject line of her post was: “perhaps some goals, grace and love....”

And then the body of her post read as follows:

here's the story:

two fellas started this so that you could write yourself a letter to be delivered at a later date. we've all had to do them in high school and college. it's sorta cool to receive a letter from yourself about where you thought you'd be a year (two years? more?) later. FutureMe.org is based on the principle that memories are less accurate than emails. we strive for accuracy.

http://www.futureme.org/

So, I was lying in bed, and I remembered this post, and I thought: that’s a great freaking idea. Let’s all send emails to Future Uma today! Because every time one of us sends an email to Future Uma it will be like we’re telling the universe: “Look, Universe, I believe that Uma’s going to continue to recover as beautifully as she’s been recovering and I believe that she is going to come out of this with all of her Uma-ness intact, and I know with all of my heart that one day Uma is going to be sitting down at her computer, reading emails. And I’m sending this email to that Future Uma. And for that Future Uma, thoughts of hospitals and rehab centers and brain aneurysms—that will all feel like a funny dream. It will all be something that Past Uma dealt with and kicked in the fucking ass. And it’ll be nice to remind Future Uma of all of the love that helped Past Uma get through that whole damned brain aneurysm ordeal. So that’s why I’m not sending an email to Present Uma’s dormant email box. That’s why I’m sending it to Future Uma, as a Statement of HOPE. To let her know that I knew she was going to get through this, that I had the faith that this was an email Future Uma would someday receive.”

So that’s the task I am humbly asking you to complete today. Write an email to Future Uma at www.futureme.org, and have them send it to: nithipal@hotmail.com on whichever future date you desire. (Remember, if you want to make it a birthday wish, her birthday is September 20th—but pick whatever future date you want her to get your message on, whatever date you find significant.) Even if you don’t know Uma but have been following her progress, it would be great if you could put your own little statement of HOPE out there into the inter-ether.

Oh, and I almost forgot to tell you the freaking strange part. So…I went to “copy and paste” Uma’s post about the www.futureme.org website and just as I was about to close the internet explorer window, I glanced up and noticed the date that Uma had posted her MySpace message about www.futureme.org. She posted it on March 27th, 2006—exactly ONE YEAR AGO TODAY. And that’s gotta be more than just some random coincidence, right? I mean, that’s too weird to just be a coincidence. I dunno.

Anyway, send Future Uma an email! (and again: her email address is nithipal@hotmail.com)

(and feel free to repost this and ask others to send Future Uma an email!)

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