Long before the Scary Movie franchise started, there was this movie. Student Bodies (1981) was a childhood favorite of mine. I’d watch it over and over, giggling my butt off every time. To my delight, Amazon Instant has it available. I found myself reciting some of the lines when I watched it last night, approx. 30 years after I’ve last seen it. I didn’t laugh as much as I did when I was a ten-year-old, but I was still amused by the silly jokes. sigh. It was a nice, stupid walk down memory lane for me. How about you? Remember this one?
Yesterday was the last day of my 30s and the first day I ever received a royalty check for my writing. Actually, it wasn’t a check but a deposit into my checking account. Not the same, I know, but just as gratifying.
I’m excited about being 40. My 30s, for the most part, sucked. For me, the I AM FORTY attitude started after the first of the year. As in, I am 40 fucking years old, why should I give a shit anymore? I totally have the urge to embarrass the children I never had. I want to get several more tattoos because they can no longer be regrettable. I don’t feel the need to try to be cool anymore. Because I have survived, because I have made it to 40, I am cool regardless if anybody knows it or not.
As for the royalty payments, there will be more. I have stories to write. After talking with my friend Alissa, I’m considering publishing Come Back as a paperback. I love the process and the challenges of self-publishing. Now that I have finally gotten paid for my writing, I’ve officially become a Writer with a capital W.
Now, my introduction is this: Hi, my name is Neva. I’m a 40-year-old writer living in Portland Oregon. And it feels really good so far.
1966 – 2013
Last week, I watched them wheel you out of your house on a stretcher. Before they took you away, they unzipped the body bag for me so I could see your face one last time. It wasn’t you anymore, but I still wanted to pass a kiss from my fingertips to your forehead anyway.
It still doesn’t seem real. It’s a nightmare I can’t wake up from. I can’t count how many times over the last eight days I’ve wanted to text you, wanted to tell you about something, anything, everything. Because I always shared anything and everything about my life with you.
Now, all that is left is the memories and artifacts. The Barbie Dream House Christmas ornament you bought me one year for my birthday. Another year, you made a print for me of two cholas smoking cigarettes, with the words AMIGAS POR VIDA written in a beautiful script above them. Now, I have your long, faux fur leopard print coat and some of your beautiful dresses. Your vintage Vegas charm bracelet. A sculpture of a crow-woman you made. Nail polish and hair dye of colors of pink, purple, and blue.
Most important of all, of course, are the memories of you. I will always have the love and the laughter you brought into my life. I have thousands of pages of emails, text messages, Toonlet creations and LiveJournal blog posts to remember you by. I will treasure them until the day we meet again.
Do you even realize how much of an impact you had on my life? I’m a better, stronger person because of your friendship and your love. How can I ever repay you now that you’re gone?
There’s so much more I want to say, but the tears in my eyes and pain in my chest are getting in the way of the keyboard. I will write more, much more later, because death is not the end. Because we are friends for life and beyond. Because you are my beautiful Cuervolinda and you will never be forgotten.
As always, I love you like a chocolate cake,
I haven’t been writing any fiction lately, but I’ve been writing. Nothing I can share, not for awhile. But I’ve been writing.
At the beginning of the year, I stopped taking all the narcotic medication prescribed to me. Nothing was becoming “a problem”; It was a matter of polypharmacy. I stopped taking them because of questions I needed answers to, like how much are the pills really helping and do I really need to feel this numb all of the time?
What do I do now? I escape in television, I hide in books. I play a soundtrack of music when I’m in the car.
Another thing, heavy on my mind: Someone very close to me, someone I love very much, is very very sick. As in, it’s a coin-toss whether she’ll make it to next year or not.
What a great time to stop taking sedatives, right?
A few weeks ago, I started taking a meditation class that focuses on spiritual healing because oh, I’m so going to need it.
…and his name is John McAfee. Whoo boy, things are going to get interesting around here! I read the Kindle single John McAfee’s Last Stand back in November and I highly recommend it. If you want the Cliff Notes version of McAfee’s story, check out the Willamette Week article about his arrival to Portland.
I haven’t gone out on New Year’s Eve since I was in my 20′s, but it’s still my favorite holiday. I love the idea of a new start. Of course, any day can be a ‘new start’, but there’s something different about January 1st. Maybe it’s the sigh of relief that the holidays are over that makes everything seem fresh to me. I’m not sure.
For me, 2012 was just…sad, but I did learn a lot about myself throughout the year. That said, I’m so ready for 2013. Bring it!
I took down my last post (re:end of 2012) because it was lame.
I wish I could write an interesting post about my Christmas, but I’m drawing a blank. For once, it was a pleasant one: A Build-Your-Own Grand Slam at Denny’s for lunch, Django Unchained in the afternoon. When you’re childless and single, I think the best Christmas is a non-Christmas. Breakfast food and Tarantino movies make me happy. And what doesn’t scream CHRISTMAS more than exaggerated pre-Civil War violence and the n-word repeated 110 times in three hours? –I kid, I kid.
In the evening, my young niece and nephew in California showed off their new toys to me via Skype. After they were done, I opened the presents they wrapped and mailed to me. One of the gifts they gave me was Dr. Seuss’ Did I Ever Tell You How Lucky You Are? It’s a hardcover and I plan on slapping it against my forehead whenever I need to be reminded of my good fortune.
I hope your Christmas was everything you wanted to be, and that you were able to have a moment to remember how lucky you are…