Summing Up

"There comes a time when you have to stand up and shout:

This is me damn it! I look the way I look, think the way I think, feel the way I feel, love the way I love! I am a whole complex package. Take me... or leave me. Accept me - or walk away! Do not try to make me feel like less of a person, just because I don't fit your idea of who I should be and don't try to change me to fit your mold.

If I need to change, I alone will make that decision.

When you are strong enough to love yourself 100%, good and bad - you will be amazed at the opportunities that life presents you."

Copyright © 2000 Stacey Charter

On The First Day

I was engaged in a conversation with a good friend recently, and the crux of the discussion centered around the concept of whether or not it was realistic to expect other people to “accept us the way we are,” or do real relationships require what he referred to as “behavior modifications.” This gave me pause, because this is one of the basic themes of my whole life.

I am naturally drawn to people who are like me in some way; I identify with some aspect that resonates within me, very much like the sound vibrations you would create with a tuning fork, or the clinking of two fine crystal goblets together. Once that connection is established, I pretty much approach the relationship wide open – in other words, I say what I think and I feel, and I trust the other person 100% from the start, rather than the traditional way interpersonal relationships are typically developed (where you meet someone, and over time your trust in them increases, and correspondingly you reveal more of your inner self to them). I’ve always thought the “traditional way” was completely backwards. My way might be riskier, but in my opinion, “trust” is an all or nothing endeavor. As time goes on, the other person in the relationship either validates my trust, or threatens it… and too many threats will result in me simply cutting the person out of my life.

I’ve often wondered how the other people that know me perceive this tendency of mine. Good? Bad? Naïve? Brilliant? I guess you would get different answers, talking to different people. From my own perspective, my approach saves a lot of time. I am able to get into deep and meaningful relationships much quicker, which gives me the emotional return – the connection – that motivates my own relationship behavior. Sometimes I get burned, sure, but more often than not I am blessed with some pretty wonderful relationships. I look around, and because I approach others with my heart and soul on a platter, I tend to attract those same sort of people in kind. People can be absolutely amazing when you remove all the barriers and approach them in utter defenselessness.

As a result, I have several fairly diverse groups of friends. Some groups overlap with others, some are completely separate. When the Bunny first came into my life and I was making the “introduce the new guy” rounds through these groups, it always fascinated me that the Bunny could engage in conversation with anyone… he was open and friendly (a little at odds with his appearance, because he was a big, tough-looking guy), but most of all he was sincere. He wasn’t the sort of person that would be nice to somebody to their face, and then later when we got home would trash the person because inside he might not have liked them. And I don’t say this to mean he necessarily liked every one of my friends that he met, either – but he respected the fact that they were MY friends, that they were people, and it didn’t define him in any way whether he agreed with them, shared their values, or would make the same choices that they would, given the same circumstances. The Bunny trusted me. He loved me. And he knew what the people in my life meant to me. It was never, ever a competition. He wasn’t one of those guys that was like, “Now we are going out, I am the end all be all for all of your needs, Woman!”

Relationships CAN’T be conditional. I don’t want to change anyone, and I don’t want anyone to try and change me. I want to be inspired. I want to be adored. But most of all, I want to be trusted… I want to be understood. And kind of like the first rebel who proposed that the world was indeed round, NOT flat – I may not be able to provide solid proof to make anyone else believe this… but my reality is defined by being accepted for who I am. There is NO other alternative.

Welcome to my world.

Grief Counseling

Over the past several weeks, I’ve been working on a “processing project;” to explain what this is for everyone out there, it’s a project that I purposely choose to work on that helps me to emotionally reconcile the death of my husband. I’ve completed one such project so far, this one is the second. I don’t know how many of these projects I will need to complete… it’s one of those “I’ll know when I get there” things. For all I know, I’ll NEVER be done reconciling the death of my husband. But in my gut, that doesn’t strike true for someone like me. I know myself pretty well by now, and while right now I am still processing… I sense that one day I will be at peace with the event. One day… not quite yet.

So this project… it’s a photograph. The intent of the photograph is to “capture my sadness” in the wake of losing the Bunny, with the idea that I can move past it. The photograph will let me look back, and reflect, and remember what these emotions felt like – freeze how they feel now – which might sound a bit counterintuitive to most people. How can I move past what I can only describe as emotional devastation by looking at a picture representing all of those negative feelings? Because with all things negative, they are the best opportunities for growth. Those negative moments are the most defining in terms of who we are, as individuals. This photograph will also help me remember that despite things happening that effectively dropped a shroud over my eyes, I did get through it. I WILL get through it. I will remember all the pain, all the sadness, all the doubt, loneliness, tears, grief… and through the support of those people who love me, through the patient watchfulness of the time that passes, and by keeping some small spark of hope alive that there is a continuing purpose for my life, that God is NOT done with me yet… I’ll make it. I’ll make it to that future point – that one I feel in my gut, but don’t yet see reflected around me. Blind faith tells me it exists.

The point of this photograph isn’t even me – in fact, one of my requirements is that it doesn’t look like me. I’ll be dressed as a fairy (yea, one of those mystical creatures), wings and all. But I am the physical manifestation of my emotions (thus, the sadness) – the point of the photograph is a locket. It’s a special locket, one I had made out of the Bunny and my wedding rings. Our rings were originally handmade by a metal craftsman using an ancient Japanese technique called mokume gane – it has the appearance of woodgrain, but it’s different metals swirled together. Back in the samurai days, mokume gane was used in parts of the handle of the samurai’s sword. You can check it out here: http://www.mokume-gane.com/.

Today, my best friend Liz took me to Sephora to have my face made up by a professional makeup artist, to give me some ideas on what I might like to do for my photograph. I tried on my dress last week (which didn’t fit – I refer you back to my earlier post, The Victoria’s Secret Story, and you will understand what part of the dress is giving me trouble). My wings were also handmade, and I had a scare that they were lost in transit when UPS mistakenly updated their computer tracking which indicated that they had been delivered to my front doorstep (which in fact they had not) – it was a devastating blow to me, not for the wings themselves, but for their significance with regard to this project. Miraculously, they DID show up the next day, and my faith in the universe was restored. I’ve been working for the past several weeks with a local photographer, collaborating on the upcoming shoot. I chose Joe because I happened across his website, and his images had such character… I sent him that first email, told him my story, and he just “got” it. Sometimes you just have to put stuff out in the universe, and the universe in turn helps you out. It rewards you. I was rewarded in finding Joe. And he’s a family guy, so he could understand the emotions I am describing when I shared the loss of my husband. Maybe not identify with them – people really can’t, unless they’ve been through it personally – but he could understand the love and attachment involved in creating a life with someone, something you fully expect will last forever.

I’m sure when this project is completed, all of my friends will absolutely HATE this picture… it’s not often I show my “sad” face, and I’m working for this one to be absolutely representative of my inner self – probably the saddest I’ve ever been in my whole entire life. But it is part of who I am, and the bridge to the next phase of my life, the one with “just Shirley” in it. The Shirley that doesn’t need protection. The Shirley who isn’t afraid to live her life the way she chooses. The Shirley who recognizes the value of happiness, and the price that is paid for it. And when that phase begins, I’ll be ready.

Fake Ass Versus Real Friends

This gave me a laugh right when I needed one... thanks, Christina!


FAKE ASS FRIENDS: Never ask for food.
REAL FRIENDS: Are the reason you have no food.

FAKE ASS FRIENDS: Call your parents Mr/Mrs.
REAL FRIENDS: Call your parents DAD/MOM.

FAKE ASS FRIENDS: Bail you out of jail and tell you what you did was wrong.
REAL FRIENDS: Would sit next to you sayin "Damn ... we fucked up ... but that shit was fun!"

FAKE ASS FRIENDS: Have never seen you cry.
REAL FRIENDS: Cry with you.

FAKE ASS FRIENDS: Borrow your stuff for a few days then give it back.
REAL FRIENDS: Keep your shit so long they forget its yours.

FAKE ASS FRIENDS: Know a few things about you.
REAL FRIENDS: Could write a book about you with direct quotes from you.

FAKE ASS FRIENDS: Will leave you behind if that is what the crowd is doing.
REAL FRIENDS: Will kick the whole crowd's ass that left you.

FAKE ASS FRIENDS: Would knock on your front door.
REAL FRIENDS: Walk right in and say "I'M HOME!"

FAKE ASS FRIENDS: Are for awhile.
REAL FRIENDS: Are for life.

FAKE ASS FRIENDS: Will take your drink away when they think you've had enough.
REAL FRIENDS: Will look at you stumbling all over the place and say "Bitch, drink the rest of that - you know we don't waste!"

FAKE ASS FRIENDS: Will talk shit to the person who talks shit about you.
REAL FRIENDS: Will knock them the fuck out.


So glad you are a REAL FRIEND!!!

A Good Day To Die

What makes a day… a good day to die?

Is it the performance of a heroic act?
Like jumping in front of a bus to save a small child?
Or is it learning an important life-long lesson?
A realization of one’s destiny?
A fulfillment of a promise?

You performed a heroic act:
You transformed my misery into happiness
As if by magic.
You learned the lesson that
No man is beyond love and salvation;
We both learned that lesson.
Our destiny was shared…
But you broke your promise.

You ran ahead of me.
But not alone –

You took my heart with you.

And now every day is a good day to die.

An Empty Gesture

So, I should have done this post yesterday, but I was too tired after the day’s festivities (it was the Fourth of July). Overall it’s been a relatively calm weekend, with the exception of Saturday, the actual holiday.

I received a phone call from one of my music buddies who got a call from a couple who was getting married on Saturday. In hindsight, this was the first (I say first.. there were others) “red flag” – those little events that lead up to a big train wreck that, when you are contemplating something later, you think, hmmmm. There was my clue! And that other thing, and that other thing, and… so my buddy calls me and is frantic. He’s the pianist, and he’s looking for a vocalist – who is available on a holiday, with about 24 hours’ notice? The answer, almost nobody. And although I had my own plans, I told him I could squeeze it in. I primarily agreed to do it to help my friend out… and when it was all said and done, that was exactly my reward: the knowledge that a friend needed me, and I came to the rescue.

I’m a pretty aggressive person, and I can be impatient; one of the things that gets my dander up is first, when people wait till the last minute to get something done, and second, want to put all sorts of strings onto you while you are trying to solve THEIR problem. Such is how the conversation was going between my friend and the bride. He’s trying to negotiate the gig, he gives her our fee (at which she initially balks), then she starts wanting to make changes to our song lineup. I tell my friend, “I don’t know how YOU want to handle this, but if it were ME, I would tell her this:” and the “this” is pretty much ‘take it or leave it’ – no changes, no special requests, you either want music during your ceremony or you don’t. Frigging ONE DAY’S notice. For your WEDDING! It blew my mind.

Okay, so we lock the arrangements down, and we show up at the church on Saturday afternoon – did I mention, it is Fourth of July? Oh yea, I did. So the ceremony begins, and not too far into it, it becomes painfully obvious that this group (as a whole) has never set foot in a church before. Not even talking about a Catholic church… no one had any idea how to conduct themselves. Catholic ceremonies are very traditional; there are specific times to sit, stand, kneel, be quiet, respond, etc. etc. There are certain things to do when you read the Scripture. Each Catholic service – whether it’s a regular mass, wedding, funeral, whatever – usually has two Scripture readings, then the priest reads something out of the Gospel. When you start a Scripture reading, you say something to the effect of “A reading from the book of (Corinthians, Genesis – insert a name of any book of the bible, except the Gospels which are Matthew, Mark, Luke & John). At the conclusion of the Scripture reading, you say “The word of the Lord” to which the congregants present respond “Thanks be to God.”

Now, I’m not a Catholic mass purist, really. In fact, I would go so far as to describe myself as a “non-practicing Catholic” most of the time, except where music is involved. Singing in church for the past four years has really kept me in regular attendance. I’m not ashamed of that, because while I am there I listen to the readings, and the priests’ homilies (my favorite part of the mass, usually) – whatever motivates me to attend I perceive to be fair as long as when I’m there I pay attention, I’m not disruptive, and I “play my part” as a parishioner, so to speak.

So, this particular wedding has a whole different feel to it – not too positive, and something I’ve certainly never experienced before in singing a wedding. I want to say it colored me emotionally, with all the darker colors in the crayon box – the grays, the blues… it was just a little “off” for me.

Then we get to the ‘piece de resistance,’ as they say in France (although I think I’m butchering the spelling – what the heck, I’m not French). After communion – which is about three-quarters through; almost done! can’t wait - there is a part in the ceremony where the bride takes a special bouquet over to the statue of the Virgin Mary, and the vocalist (played by me, remember) sings the “Ave Maria.” A side note: I really enjoy singing the Ave Maria. Most people enjoy hearing me sing the Ave Maria. It’s not a lengthy version that I sing, but it’s rich and meaningful and I use my very best “singing” voice when I do it; it’s like the cherry on top of the sundae. And it’s in Latin, so I have to really pay attention and focus on what I am doing.

So the bride walks over with the bouquet, my buddy starts playing the intro, and I start singing. I’ve probably gotten only through four measures of the song (so I have a ways to go yet), and all of a sudden, I hear applause. Applause in the middle of the Ave Maria. I look over at the couple getting married, and apparently what had happened was the two of them decided to kiss each other at that moment, and the rest of the lookers-on were applauding their kiss. I almost stopped singing, I was so shocked. I looked over at my buddy on the piano, and he shrugged, so I kept going.

Now, yes, I realize this isn’t about me. I am a diva at heart, and I love to do music, and I always hope that whoever is listening really enjoys it. I love the fact that I can enhance someone’s experience by my contribution. But what struck me in this whole episode is this: if you are going to bother to have a “church wedding” then at LEAST have the decency to be somewhat familiar with the customs of the religion! But no, what it WAS, was a convenient “photo op.” Just an image in someone’s photo album, sitting on the coffee table collecting dust. Or cut out the “church” part completely; make it your own – just make it authentic. Make it meaningful. Make it real.

In retrospect, I should probably not have taken the gig so last minute – a clear indication of a lack of preparation, lack of care, lack of something! Whatever. But like I said, I did it for my friend. And that made me feel good. Despite not feeling good for the pure joy I normally experience in doing the music. Which just proves that saying – there is always something positive to be gained in ANY situation. A “photo op” wedding ceremony, or the death of a beloved husband.

You just have to be looking for it.

Those Pesky Squirrels

I love a good "squirrel" tale... thanks, Cousin Naty!

There were five houses of religion in a small Texas town: The Presbyterian church, the Baptist church, the Methodist church, the Catholic church and the Jewish synagogue.

Each church and synagogue was overrun with pesky squirrels.

One day, the Presbyterian church called a meeting to decide what to do about the squirrels. After much prayer and consideration they determined that the squirrels were predestined to be there and they shouldn't interfere with God's divine will..

In the Baptist church the squirrels had taken up habitation in the baptistery. The deacons met and decided to put a cover on the baptistery and drown the squirrels in it. The squirrels escaped somehow and there were twice as many there the next week.

The Methodist church got together and decided that they were not in a position to harm any of God's creations. So, they humanely trapped the squirrels and set them free a few miles outside of town. Three days later, the squirrels were back.

But -- The Catholic church came up with the best and most effective solution . They baptized the squirrels and registered them as members of the church. Now they only see them on Christmas, Ash Wednesday, Palm Sunday and Easter.

Not much was heard about the Jewish synagogue, but they took one squirrel and had a short service with him called a circumcision and they haven't seen a squirrel on the property since.