Sunday, July 31, 2005

try this on

the woman whose victoria's secret boxers i swiped so many years ago totally came over today to tell me all about how she kicked her husband out last week. like i said, wonders never cease. LOL.

music to my ears

the most touching thing i've heard in weeks, from the mouth of my saving grace:

"mille, i missed you so much." and "know what mille? i love you forever." this chick sure knows how to get what she wants!

Thursday, July 21, 2005

selective hearing...

...grace's area of expertise.

phone conversation 10 minutes ago:

grace: "mio, (where) are you?"
me: "at my house, but i'm leaving for the beach."
grace: "oh okay. i go (with) you. MOMMY! i need my bathing suit! mio coming (to) get me, go to (the) beach."
me: "no baby, not this time. i have to go alone today."
grace: "ahhh no fair mio. mio....ummm..... i love you."
me: "i love you too baby doll. i'll come see you in a few days, ok?"
grace: "MOMMY!! mio coming (t0) get me! i not go to church, mio coming!"
me: "not today! in a FEW days."
grace: "you coming (to) my house? mio, i miss you."
me: "i miss you too baby. you're the first person i'll come see when i get home, okay?"
grace: "okay mio. mio? i go (with) you, okay? please? i go with you 'morrow. we can swim, okay? i go to (the) pool with you and you hold me up and i swim, okay?"
me: "okay grace, i'll hold you up and we'll swim."
grace: "oh okay. i love you! mio, hear me? I LOVE YOU! oh okay, i talk to you tomorrow."

my heart is filled to the brim with gratitude. my babies are amazing.

hetter tamille

dear candace
you died yesterday
so you know what you never asked
i wasn't ready
i had things to share with you

who am i kidding
now you know what
i was too afraid to tell you
well thought out
yes it was
my sense of self sacrificed,
the threat too great
more than i could bear

now that you know
do you love me any less
or more
or the same
do you want to warn everyone else
or show me the error of my ways

that i even have these thoughts
saddens me

water parks
matching dresses
kittens dressed in doll clothes
forts of pine straw and branches
picking black berries barefooted
sharing homemade ice cream
and koolaid in purple cups
at the big rocks
with us sharing the indian chief seat
always sharing...

almost always

those are the memories
that are dear to me
that will always be what counts

Sunday, July 17, 2005

stuff portrait day - 3 days late

The One Thing From The 80s I Can't Let Go Of...

this is richie, the bear my dad got me when i was 3. this bitch is 19 yrs. old so don't hate because he's a little rough around the edges. yes, he's here at college with me. so sue me. richie wanted to give a shout-out to snowball!

A Movie Or CD From The 80s...

this was a made-for-tv movie that came out in 1985 when i was at the beach with my family. it was super trippy, but i loved it as a kid!

It's A Picture Of Me From The 80s...

that's right guys, i was just a kid back then. i didn't get the full 80s experience. the 90s is more my area of exptertise.

we'll be the lucky ones

as timber is telling her family of our impending trip to nyc, her father exclaims "oh my god! there's going to be a terrorist attack and you're going to DIE in a nuclear explosion!" timber calmly replies "well daddy, we'll be the lucky ones because if there really IS a nuclear explosion, we're ALL going to die, but at least camille and i will die together instantaneously. you'll have to wait as the cloud of dust covers the sun and then you, mother and bobbin will starve to death."

did i mention i LOVE my friends? just ADORE them. especially you, tenacious.

Saturday, July 16, 2005

the creek

so there's a resident at the hospital who looks JUST like dawson leery. i mean, there's no way in the world someone couldn't see the resemblence. this morning at 5 a.m. he walks into the unit which is quiet with weary nurses from a rough night. i immediately burst into my best rendition of the dawson's creek theme song - "i don't wanna wait for our lives to be over..." i'm sure they think i'm going to be an excellent nurse, because everything i do and say is so clinically related.

Thursday, July 14, 2005

when you come back to me again

i rode down a familiar road last week. the last time i was there, i was in the jeep with michael. it was summer. the wind was warm and it covered me like a blanket. we laughed at my hair blowing in the wind and he told me stories i'd never heard before. i met his grandparents, who are from holland, and felt blessed to see this side of him that in all our years of friendship, he'd not shared. i hurt him by rejecting him when we were younger. it took us a long time to get back to this place. we were aimless that night, but he was calm. he was different when we weren't around everyone else. i can still feel the wind on my face. i know exactly where i was and what it felt like to be in that moment.

but i lost sight of that night soon after. i became a friend i would never want to have. michael's depression became overbearing. we didn't want to deal with it. we stopped inviting him to dinner, and declined invitations to do things together because we thought he was such a downer. and he was. but it wasn't his fault. and a real friend would've cared enough to try to help him make it through it. i was not a real friend to michael.

the last time i saw him, he was lying on my living room floor. we were all wasted, and we'd made our way back inside to the air conditioning. michael was lying on his back staring at my ceiling. "when you come back to me again" came on. and he sang it at the top of his lungs. we laughed and laughed, although it's not a funny song. i wish now i hadn't laughed. that song and its lyrics break my heart to hear it today. he was reaching out, in so many ways. and i did worse than not extending my open hand...i had his hand, but i let it go.

and so michael brantley, 21 years old having just started his own business, lost hope. put a gun to his head and pulled the trigger. called me just before. and i didn't answer. it's enough to make me wish...well...i didn't feel worthy of life when i heard the news. i'm sorry, michael. it's worthless now, i know. but i didn't tell you how much i loved you and how much our friendship really did mean to me. i didn't thank you for riding 4 wheelers and cooking dinner and making CDs and doing me favors and believing me when no one else would. i will always be sorry for not being there when you needed me most. i will never, ever forgive myself for it. i can only hope that now you are in the sun, living without any darkness.

On a prayer, in a song
I hear your voice and
It keeps me hanging on
Raining down
Against the wind
I'm reaching out till
We reach the circle's end
When you come
Back to me again

save me from satan

"i'd rather get smacked in the head than have my face shoved in shit." a memorable quote from the evening.

i do awful, awful things when i'm with this girl. like
- dance on tables
- drop entire drinks right after i get them from the bartender
- get on stage and sing while the band is on a break between sets
- go into a restuarant with nothing but my tshirt on
- tell guys i'll go to late night but don't show
- have hershell (or charlie?) carry me up three flights of stairs
- moon everybody in the bar and on the streets
- become the culprit of a piercing expedition
- let boys kiss me because i like the way they dance or play music
- dance with mandy HOLDING ME UP like an inflatable doll
- get announced in pizza places
- light up cigarettes in illegal areas
- dance around with a huge L on my head and make fun of the homophobe in my face
- jump. we always jump.
- sing karaoke. sometimes good. sometimes sad.
- drink more to get food. i'm like a 5 year old "mandy i'm hungry." "drink 2 more drinks and i'll get you a taco"
- fall off my bed. HARD.
- do the black girl booty shake. and i am sooooo white.
- swear the next day i'll never drink again. until next weekend when it's the 3rd weekend of the month (!) and the metro is the place to be. ohhhh, the unmentionable fun that awaits. see ya thursday, moo. i love you.

oh yeah: i also tell my ex boyfriend "i never knew you were this short," call mandy a dirty whore and say fuck every other fucking breath. angel. i am angelic.

Tuesday, July 12, 2005

moonlight adventure

the georgia night is softer than a whisper
we tiptoe in the moonlight
our bare feet warm against the boards of the dock
the glistening water is dark and shiny
tanna doesn't really say, more like breathes "dark water"
and we giggle as we clasp our hands together and squeeze
the boats rocking in the water is a comforting sound
as we stand in the night air.
in the darkness, the only illumination
is that of the lightning bugs floating around us.
we are tempted to catch a few, but then remember
the task at hand.

she challenges me
"you jump first"
i feel my way to the edge with my foot
and stand unabashed on a cusp
with my pajamas fluttering in the summer breeze.
i swallow my fear and dive into the unknown
the splash echoes and then fades.
my surfacing breath punctuates the stillness
and tanna, still whispering, squeaks "that was so awesome"

once i convince her that the water isn't cold,
we begin our work
diving down to the floor, we scoop up
handfuls of clay and bring it to the surface.
red, blood red, georgia clay
our hands and clothes will be stained, no doubt.
when we have enough,
i lift my body back onto the dock
and pull her up over the edge.
with her, i am 10 yrs. old again and we are
sisters in every sense of the word.

the molding ensues and my fingers
in the clay soothes my soul.
sculpting and forming takes time,
but time is all we have.

the artistic tango
lasts through the night
and as the sun washes morning light on us,
we scurry back inside, lest we be discovered.

and we lie in bed, with the smell
of the water and clay dried into our skin
listening ever so closely to hear the
squeals of delight from the kids next door
as they discover
our offering of peace.

Monday, July 11, 2005

you are

so incredible. so talented. so many things there are no words for. i am in a constant state of awe and appreciation. the words 'thank you' are so inadequate. i will leave it to emotion and pray that you know what i am thinking and feeling. and i have a sneaking suspicion that you know exactly where this is coming from. the comfort i feel in knowing that words aren't necessary with you is limitless. i am so, so blessed. so lucky. you are my gift.

Sunday, July 10, 2005

interview me!

Here's how it works:
1. If you want to participate, leave a comment below saying "interview me."
2. I will respond by asking you five questions -- each person's will be different.
3. You will update your journal/blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview others in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.
Here were my questions and responses from Sarah.. This was fun!

1. Do you hold the door open for others? Yes, always. Well, unless I'm pissed off at you, then I slam it in your face and lock it.
2. Your best friend is dating a loser, but he/she is too blind to you tell them? Yes, but with more tact than that. I am known for being pretty abrasively direct. In that situation, I'd feel it out with a comment about the person's unworthiness and then let it go if they were hostile/defensive about it. It is, after all, their life and not mine!
3. Is there a something that you want to do before you die (like bungee jump, sky dive, etc)? I did the dare devil dive last month, which was an unimaginable thrill (see the picture above). They pull you to the center of the top of the arch, then you free fall. I love heights and roller coasters. I will sky dive, bungee, jump from bridges, you name it! I have so many things on my to-do list, I couldn't put them all here.
4. If you could ask your fave celeb only one question, what would it be? I would ask Bette what she thinks about at night when she's falling asleep.
5. What is your ultimate dream for your future? That my life will be full of love and friends, and people who accept me for who I am.

cast me gently into morning

from fallen to falling. wonders never cease. i am beginning to learn to let go of the need to control, as i continually realize that relinquishing the death grip is the only way to really LIVE my life. and life is good.

Saturday, July 09, 2005

yes, she did

at the risk of being repetitive, i have to say that the friends i have made recently are among the most cherished of my life. today sarah has given me the most beautiful gift. someone who can see that deeply to your core without any need for explanation is a true soul sister, and she is mine. i am speechless and moved by my friends' loyalty. sarah and chris especially, you girls have been the music in my life lately. but everyone else here is amazingly intuitive and talented, too. annie, jan, lighty, RSG, sarah, dixie, angel, kara, jas, marybeth, kirsti, traci...i could never thank you enough for the gift of your friendship. it is priceless. there are other newbies on here, too, who i'm only beginning to get to know, but their sincerity shines through. you all are no longer arial ghosts. you're the truest of friends, and i'm honored to call you mine.

PICU, schmicu

you guys are going to think i'm anal and depressed all the time. this post will be an attempt to redeem myself in the name of all that is sane. i am in the pediatric intensive care unit (picu) now...still doing this externship at the large teaching hospital. needless to say, it is a particularly stressful unit and i'm not good at "leaving it" when i walk out the door. i am super emotionally involved with these children and their parents, and i come home and cannot sleep because i'm so filled with worry. the past few mornings i've left feeling like i just might lose it and hurl before i even get to my car. now, i can handle bodily fluids with the best of them. internal organs, invasive procedures, gastric contents, poop smeared everywhere, wound packings, sutures, staples and drains: i've never thrown up or passed out handling things like that. but let my 3 kilo ex-preemie continually de-sat on me and keep me hovering over her for 2 hours. THAT i cannot handle. my stomach will not handle my patients trying to die on me.

i was caring for the afore-mentioned ex-preemie, who we will call sweet pea for HIPPA purposes, this week. she has a plethora of complex issues, but her main one at this point is respiratory. she was on a ventilator and needed to be transferred to a bigger hospital where she could have a primary pulmonologist. texas children's hospital is where we decided she would go. they agreed to take her. so we prepared her as best we could for her cross-country flight.

after waiting over 24 hrs. for the family's insurance company to finally okay such an astronomical expense, a team put together just for sweet pea flew over in a leer jet to get our baby. when they touched down in georgia, they did not have an isolette for her. an isolette is the small, clear incubator-looking equipment with all the monitors and temperature regulating device. they had brought a stretcher for her. and they argued with us on the phone, saying "she's 4 months old. she doesn't need an isolette." needless to say, this EX-PREEMIE on a VENTILATOR who weighs 3 KILOGRAMS and cannot regulate her own body temperature and is in ICU cannot be thrown on a stretcher. she lives underneath a radiant warmer. this baby has not been out of our sight since the moment she was born. i think we know what she can and cannot handle. when i relayed this to the physician from texas children's, do you know what she said to me? "we'll bundle her." umm NO, mrs. i-just-took-my-boards and apparently know nothing about this child, you will NOT bundle this baby for a 2 hr. plane ride. she will die before you get there. so after coming all the way out from the airport and looking at this baby for 5 minutes, the medical team flew BACK to TEXAS (at a cost of $1 million that texas childrens' will have to eat) to get an isolette.

and that's not even the most infuriating part. sweet pea was stable the first time they got there. for the last 2 hours before they returned, she became very unstable. she kept dropping her o2-sats and wanting to die on us. by the time they returned, her parents and our medical team thought it may very well have been too little, too late.

SO...when things like that are happening at work, and i leave not knowing if my baby made it somewhere or not, then i get my panties in a wad and am not much fun for a few days. BUT, as of this morning, mom called and told me that they made it to texas okay and she was still stable. so for now, that's good news. but she probably won't make it to her 1st birthday anyway. if anybody has a suggestion for a better way to handle this stuff, i'm open to hearing it. i'm getting opposing views from most people. some say "nurses get too hardened over time. they need somebody as emotionally involved as you." then others are saying "you've got to leave that shit at work or you'll end up with stress ulcers and insomnia." but for tonight, i will sleep well knowing that sweet pea is safe, and my other kids are stable. she's only one of 8 stories i could tell you about this week. all in good time...

Wednesday, July 06, 2005


Heaven bent to take my hand
And lead me through the fire
Be the long awaited answer
To a long and painful fight

Truth be told I've tried my best
But somewhere along the way
I got caught up in all there was to offer
And the cost was so much more than I could bear

Though I've tried, I've fallen
I have sunk so low
I've messed up
better, I should know
So don't come round here
And tell me I told you so

We all begin with good intent
Love was raw and young
We believed that we could change ourselves
The past can be undone

But we carry on our backs the burden
Time always reveals
In the lonely light of morning
In the wound that would not heal
It's the bitter taste of losing everything
That I've held so dear

I've fallen
I have sunk so low
I've messed up
better, I should know
So don't come round here
And tell me I told you so,
Don't tell me I told you so

Heaven bent to take my hand
I have nowhere left to turn
I've lost to those I thought were friends
To everyone I know
Oh, they turned their heads embarrassed
Pretend that they don't see
But it's one missed step
You'll slip before you know it
And there doesn't seem a way to be redeemed

Though I've tried, I've fallen
I have sunk so low
I've messed up
better, I should know
So don't come round here
And tell me I told you so...

it's interesting how songs somehow capture every angle of a situation in your life. this has become the anthem for my recently broken relationship. and it was completely accidental. i've known this song for years...knew the lyrics. only really listened to them again a few weeks ago and suddenly stopped singing along and listened. sometimes we forget to do that: listen.

this is me yelling through the melody

i wrote this on jan. 17, 2003.

the days become longer, the nights heavier. i have no concept of time or obligation or responsibility.

it hurts to smile. it hurts not to smile. and although i dance in a storm of confusion that is ostensibly fabricated within the confines of my own head, through the eyes of anyone else, i am not moving at all.

the wave breaks and rolls into itself as my eyelids close, yet nothing is washed away. the ocean has become a pool where things don't ebb, they simply float and get soggy and break apart...tiny pieces of bigger problems floating randomly, bumping into one another and being repelled back to me. i could drown in this pool.

of the things i lack, the thing i long for the most is this: some new, perfect perspective. an orange inferno of a new outlook on life. like that fiery summer day in washington when i realized there might not be three sides to every triangle. the day my imagination expanded as i grew younger, yet matured. the day i decided i was not broken, only broken in.

but there is a difference between being broken in and being worn. my twenty year old mind feels as though it's been running an 80 year marathon. i threaten it by picking up a bottle of the pink, diamond-shaped pills, and it shrinks back into quiet surrender. but only long enough for me to catch my breath and pretend that everything is okay.

and you know it, but are unable to do anything to help. and i know it, but refuse to help myself. you ask if prolonged depression leads to masochism? maybe i was a masochist to begin with? maybe i was always crazy? and you will never know. and one day i won't know anymore. that day we will meet each other for the first time again. shake hands and smile and exchange glances that make us ask, "where have i seen her before?"

and maybe we'll start over. lace our lives together again. but more likely we'll keep walking, puzzled and bothered but unwilling to put forth the effort required. our spirits will tiptoe and look back, but our lives will continue as a sad, partnerless dance, now only a faint whisper of what they used to be.

Tuesday, July 05, 2005

into the woods

Originally uploaded by camille26.

this is my most recent purchase of original artwork. the story of how i came to own this painting is now integral to its history. while at the sunshine festival with my beloved aunt (with whom i've become a pea in a pod), we stumbled upon a regional artist showcasing his original works. i greatly, DEEPLY admired this painting which i intially called "the tree." it had no formal title, and it became MY tree.

we were sticky and sweaty, and the sky was threatening rain. so we stood under this artist's tent and i stared, with my hand on my face, into and beyond this painting. looking and relooking. discovering and then rethinking. after a moment, the artist (chris locklear) said "make me an offer." i was still speechless, stunned by the emotion that piece had evoked in me. after a few moments i said "i can't." and i was too flustered to give any explanation. i asked him if he sold all his work. "eventually" was his reply. so we looked a little more and left.

hours later when we were leaving the festival, i asked my aunt if she'd mind if i went back to look at the tree one more time. she suggested i ask the artist for his business card. she said "when you can afford it, maybe he'll still have it." this painting was already framed and the artist was asking $100 for it. being the struggling student i am, i of course could not justify spending that money right now, although i believe it was more than a fair price. when i returned to chris's tent, he began writing his number down for me (he'd run out of cards during the day) and said again "make me an offer." i said "i really can't. i would love to, but i know that what i could offer you is much less than what that painting is worth, and i would be embarrassed to do that." once more he said, "well you'll never know if you don't make me an offer." frustrated i replied, "i could only pay $30 or $40 at most." and he said "well young lady, that painting is yours."

my aunt and i carried it home, propped it up in front of the couch where we prepared to watch a movie, and ended up looking at and discussing it all night. i am very pleased with it. although it will always be my tree, we decided on the more appropriate title of "into the woods," which in itself is a story for another time. i am happy.

beautiful disaster

this is for sarah.

splendor on the coast

happy at dinner time
Originally uploaded by camille26.

the kids have been so great. i forget how much i enjoy being around them sometimes. last night anna and i struggled to sleep in the midst of a thunderstorm. we counted in whispers together after each strike of lightning and i guessed the actual storm to be 5 miles away. with her knees in my stomach and head under my chin, anna whispered "who makes the lightning?" i was quiet for a moment, moved by her curiosity, but i quietly answered "god does." "well doesn't he know it scares me?" she said to me. "yes baby," i told her, "but learning to face things that scare us is how we grow up." as she chronicled the ways in which she was definitely a big girl, a familiar feeling of pride and gratitude overcame me. more than anything, i was grateful to see these children growing.

and it may be entirely selfish, but having that sweet baby reach for me and rest his head against my body is the best feeling in the world. i don't know many people who "nanny" at the age of 22, but i have NEVER done it for the money. i have always done this out of complete and utter adoration for these children and how calm and in my element i feel when i'm with them.

the thought of having a child of my own scares me to death. i cannot BEGIN to imagine my heart full of that much love and wonder. i wonder if i would be so overtaken by emotion that i'd be blind to all logical thoughts. that love would be the purest and most unconditional in the world. i cannot even wrap my head around the thought.