vesta_aurelia: Fangirl your Armor (Default)
Dear Mr. Rickman,

Today would have been your 70th birthday. And while I still have A Little Chaos, Eye in the Sky and the new Alice movie to see, what I miss most and shall miss most are your interviews. Especially those in the past few years, where you relaxed and really let your thoughts out: about the power of stories, and the responsibilities of the storytellers, of what words mean and how their power is both immutable and chameleonic. I work with words every day, telling tiny little stories--sometimes, even at less than 114 characters. What you said resonated with this other member of Walter Fisher's homo narrans.

The first film I ever remember seeing you in--not the first film I actually saw you in, just the one that made me look you up and see who you were--was ClosetLand. It reached inside my brain and gave it a good twist. When I looked you up, I realized I'd seen you in that film, and that film, and that film, and that film, and, hey! you were That Guy! And I became a fan.

And then the internet *really* took off, and... )

After a while, I realized it was about connections, and the very bones of who I am.

I liked your work, so I let it into my heart and my head. That changed who I am, and that changed all the "could-be" versions of me, as well. The work you were going to do, that I was going to see, and the interviews you were going to give in support of that work, that was all going to change my future "could-be"s as well. Your work and your words were woven into the trellis of my future growth--all those possible "me"s. So when you died, they all died, too. Those hundred thousand possible "me"s--gone. Other possible "me"s are growing to fill in those spaces, of course, but first--they all died.
And that hurts.


Some of the less-than-helpful things I was urged to do, the day you died, was to "enjoy the work he already did" and "celebrate that it existed at all." In many ways, it is little recompense to simply think back on the things that you'd already done. Emma Thompson wrote she couldn't wait to see what you were going to do with your face next. I couldn't wait to see what percolated out of your brain next. After my childhood, I got very ... leery ... about who got into my head, and what they left behind--what they left behind for me to hear at 2 in the morning, whenever I couldn't sleep. But--I liked your thoughts, so I put some of them into my head. On purpose. And now, every time I jostle one, like a broken bone, it aches.

And yet, I cannot bear to be that "me" who had never discovered your work at all.

I don't know what kind of creature I would be without your influence...
but I have my suspicions.


Goodbye, Mr. Rickman.
I shall miss you.

"Always."



‪#‎RIPAlanRickman‬
vesta_aurelia: Fangirl your Armor (bujold -- careful to aim this woman)
I don't put much stock in famous people. That song by Ookla the Mok about them being created by us, the public, is just so true.

But Alan Rickman is dead.

I've adored--and I use the term precisely--this man as a person and as an actor and as a thinker for decades.
I sobbed.
Like I did when my dad died.

I am still weeping.

I suppose I should have suspected when he and Rima finally married after 50+ years of living together. I thought it was just smart, long-term planning because inheritance laws in the UK are complicated and expensive, especially with intellectual property.

I will be crying, on and off, all day I suspect.

He was part of my "mind family"--the people who fed my thoughts and my thinking. The only one who will hurt more, I suspect, is Lois Bujold.
vesta_aurelia: Fangirl your Armor (Default)
19 years ago today



We miss you, Mr. Henson.

(music by [livejournal.com profile] filkertom )

Quote Tarot

Oct. 7th, 2008 07:52 pm
vesta_aurelia: Fangirl your Armor (minerva in mist)

So this whole "people I know having medical crises" thang can Stop Right Now.
Just. Sayin'.

B with her pituitary tumor, D with ALS, M with his brain cancer, J with her car crash, D with her colitis....I sure hope Hallmark appreciates the money!

I never really thought I was very empathic until people I know started hurting. Then I realized that I've just pushed away most folks so I didn't feel so torn up the middle, so much and so often. Bleargh. (And it really is torn -- like my ribcage is corrugated cardboard and someone's just grabbing one side and pulling... Quite unpleasant, really.)

I'm coping okay with it. It just takes me a little more time and energy to sit back and say to myself Perspective!  *snort*  Hey, it works most of the time, so don't knock it.

I've been reading this book called "The Secret of Letting Go" by a guy named, appropriately, Guy (Finley). Very helpful. There are certain phrases he uses that I have underlined and have copied over to my Quote Tarot.

Quote Tarot? you ask.
Ahhh, Grasshopper!

I have an old recipe box full of index cards. Contained on each card is one quote (duly cited). I do a random draw from the Quote Tarot whenever I feel vexed or pressed. (I understand that some people do this with the christian bible...) My Quote Tarot is filled with pagans (yay Seneca!), authors (yay Bujold!), philosophers (yay William James!) and ordinary folks (yay Sophie Veritas!). Random pulls from the Quote Tarot:

"A horse never runs so fast as when he has other horses to catch up and outpace" -- Ovid
"We tell ourselves stories as a dress rehearsal for life" -- MaryAnne, Flights of Fancy
"The present winter is worth an age, if rightly employed" -- Thomas Paine
"Nothing is mere-- Richard Feynman
"The one thing you can't trade for your heart's desire is your heart" -- Miles Vorkosigan/Lois McMaster Bujold
"Promises aren't things you give to people; they're things you ask of yourself" -- Sophie Veritas

I'm always looking for new, meaningful quotes for the Quote Tarot. Got a suggestion?

vesta_aurelia: Fangirl your Armor (Default)
 I spent last Saturday with my friends Liz and Sandy, from work. In January, Sandy's husband was injured at work and had his lower spine crushed. He has patchy sensation and mobility from the top of his pelvis down, and is in a wheelchair. Ever since that day in January, Sandy hasn't slept a full night through. She's been stressed out, freaked out, depressed, estatic and everything else in between.

And I go on this ride with her.

She talks about her husband's downturns, his frustrations, his pain -- her helplessness, her frustrations, her exhaustion. She shares his moments of hope (He can move his toes!) and moments of despair (He fell out of his chair today and couldn't get back in). She agonizes about how he feels, how she deals with his feelings of guilt and embarrassment, and just the sheer weight of dealing with all these extra steps to anything. 

I read up on things, too. I can't help it. I read about the latest research in spinal healing and repair; I read about prospects and likelihoods and my feeling swing wildly, with everything I hear from her (or read on my own).
"Latest research indicates near-full to full mobility is possible when..." and so much is bright with possiblities.
"Most paraplegics never regain..." and doubt slides over me like an observatory dome shutting all the light out.

And I have to think how much more this is for her -- for him. I know how the body can be shaped by the absolute determination to be or do or accomplish or correct or heal or destroy... i know I've changed physical characteristics of my own body, healed wounds faster, prevented illness, and more, just by the deep-seated desire -- the bone-deep want -- for something to happen thus

And so I know -- I know -- that the thought can manifest and become. 

Yet my hope slips, sometimes. Belief misses a step. And the person it lands on -- really lands on -- isn't me. It's her. And him. 

How do I pick that up again? When whether I believe he will make it -- or not -- can change? Sometimes it can change two or three times in a day.

How do I act belief and hope, how do I speak certainty, when I don't feel it? Or should I do it at all?
Is it a lie, a white and gentle lie?
Is it one of those things where we "fake it til we make it" and that's okay? Or is that a false and destructive lie, that makes them feel smaller?

I...I...don't know what to do. Every doubt and slip in belief and loss of certainty feels like failure and betrayal. And I can't stop them, the doubts and fears. Yet, trying to deny the doubts and fears feels like I'm lying to myself, and I lose respect for myself for the lack of integrity.

I...I just... I...
GAH

RIP

Jul. 28th, 2008 06:50 am
vesta_aurelia: Fangirl your Armor (Default)
Randy "The Last Lecture" Pausch 

Lance "Olav Durinson" McBride

d*mn

Car wreck

Jun. 23rd, 2008 09:21 am
vesta_aurelia: Fangirl your Armor (scream)
ETA: More information and picture of the accident scene. He was in the car on the left of the image
Accident scene

They're waiting for the family to gather from around the country. We'll know soon, I guess.

Thanks for your hugs. I've thought of what could have happened, why he could have swerved like that, and I just come up with so many possibilities: sun in the eyes, looking down at the radio, sneezing, heck, seizure from brain tumor, even.

Jeez.



-----
Accident claims two lives

The driver of the Mitsu was my coworker's youngest son. He was finally getting his life together, after a very mis-spent youth. I hope hope hope, for her sake, that he was not under the influence of anything at the time.

The driver of the other car was a 61-year-old woman. She had a 12-year-old and 13-year-old in the car with her. Both of those kids are in the hospital -- one in Grants Pass, one was airvac-ed to RVMC -- but they're both alive.

Wednesday would have been his birthday. He would have been 25.

Crap.

Stunned

Dec. 11th, 2007 07:59 am
vesta_aurelia: Fangirl your Armor (vesta goddess pic)

My friend and coworker M had to leave work today.
Her husband had a heart attack at Wal-mart.
He's... dead.

I feel like I've been dropped into a cave and I'm blinking stupidly in the darkness.

I want to ask my mom what she did when lost Daddy, so I can help M.
Because I'm afraid and I don't know what to do.
I don't want to make it harder for her.

I wish I knew what to do.

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