Here is me getting my root canal! Three hours of holding my mouth open made me think of all the times I should have kept it closed! Payback's a .... painful process.
This week has been a challenge to stay sane (a relative term), with little sleep and a full schedule, appointments and assignments due. I made it through, but not in the greatest form. By Saturday, it seems I had regressed to the point I could barely hold a cup when at work I dropped a customer's large supreme deep dish pizza on the floor, then a can of soda (at least a whole meal was sacrificed). The list goes on, then when I got home, the pizza delivery car topper was still on my car, so I had to drive back and turn it in.
Earlier in the week, I made it most of one day until, arriving at an appointment at 4pm, I realized my sweater was on backwards, which was a turtleneck, so who would know, right? I had been watching a youtube video by Tom Greene earlier in the week, "The Backwards Man," so I had to laugh and I started singing it until a woman walked out of the building. I stopped, but she looked at me like I was having too much fun to be walking alone in the parking lot! So, today, I am hoping the next week will go a little smoother. Tests and papers are due, so we'll see. But at least, no root canal!
Above is a photo of my visit to the College of Dentistry at OU. I have two student dentists who take turns working on my dental care. They are best friends, and have been really great to me. Aaron, with the mask, first helped me. I had a bad experience a few years back with one dental procedure, so when I first went to the school, I was very nervous (an anxiety attack is more accurate). However, he was very thoughtful and patient. Rob is the friend he recommended to do some of the work, and he came to check and see if Aaron was doing things right, ha. They have been very understanding and have done a wonderful job. I highly recommend their program to anyone. They helped me get into the full program, which is not easy, since openings for new patients are limited.
We each have more than one story that makes up who we are. Growing up in a broken home, where my mother was a German immigrant, my parents divorced and she remarried an abusive and violent alcoholic, domestic violence became common and familiar to me and part of my story. Somehow, I felt a degree of protective immunity in adolescence, that I was somehow invincible, and that it would never happen to me. This idea got me through, until it did happened to me. You'd think that after growing up in the midst of domestic violence, I would have recognized the signs. But, unfortunately, I didn't, until they became obvious and it was too late to avoid. I was twenty before I learned why that is common, but I blamed myself for allowing it until I began to learn more about it, once I was free from the situation.
One of the benefits of my experiences growing up is that it gave me a desire to help others who were victims of abuse, neglect and violence. During my break with the past, I toured with Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey Circus for one season in 1977. The circumstances which led to my "running away with the circus" were profoundly well timed and orchestrated for this opportunity that fell into my lap. It not only became my way of escape, but a turning point for me where I learned to take a stand and fight to be free.
When I returned to Oklahoma after one season on tour due to family circumstances, I began to work for a non-profit organization that was founded by a couple who had just returned to Oklahoma City from Kampuchea. They were the last Americans to leave Phnom Penh when it fell to the Khmer Rouge. In 1979 until 1984, I worked for them as a personal secretary and assistant. I was responsible for correspondence with the continual flow of mail from the refugee camps, each seeking to find sponsors to relocate in the United States. Some knew the founders personally, Todd and DeAnn Burke, from their time in Phnom Penh, and others had heard of them and their organization. They had spent a few years in Kampuchea and written a book about their experiences there, titled "Anointed for Burial." We also had a large constituency that contributed to their work in the Thai border camps, as well as for those who were associated with their work in Katmandu, Nepal, Calcutta, India and the Philippines.
The Burkes also had two sons, Judson, who was 3 years old and Jeremi, who was 6 months old when we first met. They later had more children, five in all. Their work grew to include many organizations associated with their work in Europe, Canada and Australia. People were coming to their home from all over the world on a continual basis, leaders of organizations and people who wanted to meet them after reading their book and influenced by their work. Todd also traveled extensively from time to time internationally. My job also included living with the family for the first two years, although I had my own separate space, a room built onto the house, like one of the anchorite nuns! But we were basically housemates. I also assisted with the children and many aspects of their daily lives.
Todd was a mentor for me not only for my work experience, but also in seizing the day, and making the most of opportunities in life, sometimes wrestling them from the jaws of the lion, sometimes creating them from thin air, and sometimes by rebuilding on the broken ruins (or 'tels').
I enjoyed my work, especially when I got to be directly involved with the correspondence and relocation of the Khmer people. I was invited to attend two banquets to meet and shake the hand of the President of Free Cambodia (Kampuchea) at the time, President Lon Nol. I also had up to nine Khmer roommates at a time, when they would come to Oklahoma City to relocate. This usually included picking people up from the airport after their flight directly from the Thai border camps, and assisting them with every aspect of their new life in the States; including practical things, such as applying with the Social Security Office for their new Social Security cards, (and yes, they noticed when I got lost driving downtown!), obtaining local state id's, enrolling in ESL classes, looking for jobs, and providing transportation to all the necessary activities. I learned how to shop at the Asian market, for example! I also learned from my roommates how to eat with chop sticks, Asian cooking, some Khmer language and many of their home remedies. We enjoyed many activities together as they adjusted to their new lives in the States.
One of the first families that relocated to Oklahoma City opened their own restaurant, which has been successful now for many years. They had no money when they first arrived, but achieved their goals by working long hours and saving. Some of the families or individuals have married and moved to other cities to reunite with family and friends. (I have included a few photos.)
This last photo is a picture of my mother and step-father. I am happy to say that their lives improved over time and my stepfather stopped drinking. Although things weren't perfect, they were happy together and had one daughter together, my sister Paula.
Its always nice to remember them, their life struggles, their stories, and, as Tom Petty sang, the fact that we don't have to live life like refugees!
Here is a Valentine's day wish for those who have flip'd or been flip'd at one time or another =-<3->
"At the touch of love, everyone becomes a poet." -Plato @>%~
my favorite poem this week: from the jim carroll group list:
i want to play that kissing game when you let my words fall down your face like tears and lay upon your hair like rain and glisten like jewels on finest velvet i close my eyes and smell your skin and drink it in and drag your love down into my poor dim dungeon i want to play the kissing game so you will say my name and let it feel like a thousand years of kisses in that voice that's as delicious as honey and tears
Looking at a painting in my room (shown), it reminds me of a hall of mirrors. The image in the mirror isn’t exactly the same as the one looking at it, but some kind of version of it. The painting reminds me of how life is a lot like a Fun House I went to at the state fair. You go in with a group of people, some you know, some you don’t know, and everyone is just hoping to have a good time. Entering the fun house, there are all kinds of obstacles to get through, startling sounds, swaying bridges, walkways that move back and forth, shaky places, spinning disks and rolling tunnels. Much like a Picasso painting, it’s all mixed up and you hold on until you make it to the next phase, a lot like the childhood phase.
Then you enter the maze of the glass house where you begin to walk with both feet on the ground and things seem more rational, but you have to feel your way around through the invisible barriers, sometimes bumping into invisible walls and sometimes confronted or confused by mirrors. You can see the people who entered with you, but it’s not always easy to know how to get to them, and you may go in circles or run into dead ends. Someone may seem close to you and you smile and wave, but there are invisible walls that separate you until you can find your way. Sometimes you hook up again, and sometimes you don’t. Sometimes you can see the crowd outside, but an invisible barrier separates you from them also, and they laugh like an audience as they watch you feeling your way along, lost in the clarity of the maze. You might even make faces at them or act silly in a way you wouldn’t do if the glass wall wasn’t there, even though they’re not far away and can still see you.
Finally, when you make it through the maze, you enter a room which is the most surreal. The room is a hall of mirrors of all shapes and sizes; however, the images are a warped version of the person looking into them. This reminds me a lot of the growing phases, when the person who is on the inside somehow doesn’t match the one in the reflection, and you wonder who is staring back at you from the mirror. Luckily, your friends that are with you look just as mixed up, so you can laugh and make jokes about it, realizing the reflection is not the same as the person looking into it. It helps to realize the value of the perspective of others, especially when we no longer trust our own reflection, question ourselves, or fear what we might see.
After thinking about this, one of my friends posted some new photos on myspace.com of himself with his girlfriend going through the funhouse with the mirrors. I was right, it was funny to look at, but it’s also a relief to know that what you see in the reflection isn’t always the whole picture. Somehow you feel initiated into 'a world full of carnies' when you’ve made it through the fun house and when you come out the other side, you feel ready to tackle the next big ride!
