le bonheur et la tristesse

The hubby’s birthday is just around the corner (October 19th) and I have a special outing to our favorite sushi spot ready to go. Luckily, we’re getting there the same day a weekly fresh fish delivery arrives, yum! Due to the egregious cost of our impending Christmas honeymoon, we’ve decided to try and keep it pretty lean for the rest of the year… I bought him a pair of Diesel jeans on mega sale (in my defense), through Nordstrom Rack and due to this year being my 3oth on November 19th, I have hinted at finally getting one of those fancy gold oversized watches, not real gold of course and from Amazon. I equate it to when you hear of people receiving a watch for being at their job for 20 years, only this is a long sought after Marc Jacobs that I’ve chosen for my personal hard work during 30 challenging years on earth. Also, (I said we’d try to keep it lean!) the Alliance Française de Sacramento is hosting an amazing La Fête du Beaujolais Nouveau fundraiser the night of my birthday so we obviously cannot miss this event… because, WINE.

I could swear the price of our honeymoon increases with every month that brings us closer to departure. It’s safe to say we will not be using a travel agent ever again. For future arrangements, I’ve looked into Go Ahead tours; coming up in September of 2017 (hopefully) Italy! We’ve also discussed Iceland, Cuba, and potentially another RV trip, this time through Canada! One of these countries may become our future permanent residence, what with the state of the nation, a very poor education and daycare outlook, and the horrific stories that pass through my desk on a daily basis in my government position, detailing just how poorly some children are being treated by peers and even teachers at school. Though we feel it might be the best option for our family to re-locate, I do have a mountain of student loans which tie me to the US through a generous forgiveness program, so long as I continue my work with the government full-time. Granted, at this stage it may be more of a fantasy than a concrete plan, I am still incredibly excited at the possibility of international living!

The reason I began this blog was to discover new and hopefully exciting things about myself, and to have a platform far removed from the more analytical set up of my cinema blog. I’ve been trying on different tones and styles through this little site and hopefully I continue to have a healthy dose of diverse topics and things to share. Just to prepared the reader, what I am about to describe is bit more raw and potentially emotional than my previous posts.


I had a dream last night about an old friend. The dream began with my husband and me discussing our plans to relocate from California to New Zealand. I was scouting new homes and somewhere along my search I was abducted; a seller tried to force me into buying their property! It gets really spliced after that but when the dream comes back into focus I am –understandably– in a panic as I take out my cell to call my best friend. It was an instinctual gesture, whenever I needed anything there was only one person I wanted to turn to; an unwavering beacon of hope and happiness. I was elated when he picked up. As it turned out, he was only half a block away and we began walking towards one another while he stayed on the phone to calm me down. The sight of him coming around the corner was/is a feeling I can’t easily forget, or describe. I quickly dropped my phone and rush over to him. The sight and the feel of his warmth enveloped me in a way I am ashamed to admit. This is the person who was there throughout my tumultuous high school experience, the one who stuck up for me when his family decided I wasn’t good enough (based on my skin tone), that beautiful blue eye boy that loved me unconditionally at my worst most abhorrent young adult moments.

The cat wakes me up…I don’t immediately begin gasping and crying as per usual. I remember that my husband has the day off due to poor weather so I was sensitive not to wake him. The silent tears rolled down my face as the alarm begins to wail, fully thrusting me back into reality. It’s time to get ready for work… happy Friday. I comfort myself the best I can, tears hot on my cheek; the anger begins to rise. A life cut short at just 24 years old while the rest of us are left to go on as best we can in the wake of his enormous absence. Life can deal some devastating blows, and there are those who get knocked down more than others. Mine came in 2009, when I experienced the tragic end to what was then absolutely, hands down, the love of my life; fatally affected by an irresponsible party goer with a stolen prescription narcotic.

I’ve listen to both sides of the debate over whether it’s ‘easier’ to know when the loss is coming versus scrambling to deal with it suddenly. In my case, had you told me in advance the most caring and kind person I’d ever meet at that point was going to have their life cut short, there’s not a single thing that could have prepared me. Sure I could have said my goodbyes and there may be more closure than there is now but the rage in my heart would survive. The cruelty of the universe is still fresh in my soul because I refuse to come to terms with what has occurred and why. Though I may never get an answer, only speculations and frequent reminders to myself of how blessed I am to have the love and understanding of my husband. How he stands by when that light inside me, which he’s grown so accustom to, becomes a bit dim now and again. Yet I keep waiting for time to heal this wound, or for my memories to become less defined. Then days like today hit me like a wall of freezing water and suddenly I have shards of glass slicing through my heart as I try to breathe past the pain. How do I tell my future children about this loss? How can I keep putting my husband through the strain of seeing me this way, over a lost love no less? I am left here, looking to the future for the answers.




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