Clutter

If you know me, then this will not come as a surprise.

I tend to HOLD on to things (tightly).

However, there have been some moments of my life that I have managed to go through the boxes, cupboards, closets and the purses to "de-clutter", to rid myself of unnecessary things and in many moments of my life I have even managed to de-clutter my friends, and the memories of my previous life.

To simply get rid of something that has no current useful value has been easy for me to do yet heart stopping as well. Now - it may take years for me to this for some reason or another but there are days when the "de-clutterization of Gina" could be a doctrine both in the physical sense and the emotional sense.

I am sure it comes easier at times then others, and I am sure my crazy childhood can account for some of the reasons I hold on as long as I can to things and yet in an instant I can find it easy to let it go.

Then one day - you come across a corner of a photo of a person that had been long put in the clutter pile many years ago. Immediately intrigued by the years that have passed you pull the corner of the photo, and like pulling a thread - it all comes spinning back. An overwhelming amount of memories, friends, moments, photos, songs, smiles, tears, and laughs.

With trepidation you embrace the moments and share the time. Like being transported back to a life that previously was and a life that no longer exists.

My clutter seems to obviously define me or has helped define me. I am so thankful that I can see that more clearly today which is why I hold on to it so tightly. I am thankful for all the clutter that made me who I am today.

I get it now - I really get it!

Signing off for now - I am taking two large bags of cloths that I have (Size 0-4) to the Goodwill. Those days are gone!

It's okay to be a 6!

I will be back

WOW - time flies again and I have so much to say. Stay tuned for more mumblings of a girl who graduated high school 20 years ago and lived to celebrate it!

Time catches up

Time can also be the end for some - it was for me.

I know, it has been a long time and I could not begin to tell you what I have been doing for 5 months. It seems like just yesterday I blooged about that stupid mountain off the 5 Freeway, but then I realized - as I drove to LA yesterday morning - I had the same thought as I had the last time I drove by that stupid mountain. So at least some things do not change.

So where have I been... Well July/August I found my time being spent in LA at my theater, The Elephant Theatre; co-directing a play called One Fell Swoop. The show received fabulous reviews and come Septemer 3rd my job was done and it was time to move on - the show was well into the throws of it so I set out on a 4500 mile drive across the Western US. This was a 17 day camping journey that made my time here on earth grounded.

AND Lately I have jumped right into the deep, deep end of the Elephant again and have taken on a much anticipated role as Director of Development. The past two months has been a crazy organized and healthy chaotic time. I am thankful yet it feels like I have run out of time.

You see -- I have no had time to be sad. There is something to be said about being in touch with emotions - it is healthy at least to me. It keeps me sane and keeps me in this very moment of time. I have not had too much time to just "be" lately. But then time caught up with me. I lost a friend last week. This friend was not someone I grew up with or even someone that knew my family. This is someone that made each of of my days that much better by simply saying hello and asking about my cat and smiling at me and giving me a sense of calm. I worked with him and he made a difference in my life. When I heard the knews that I will not be able to ever see him again - I weeped. I weeped most of the night and again the next day. You see - there are people who are simple in our lives and make all the difference in their simplicity. Sometimes it does not take knowing all of a person's life long baggage to really care about them. Sometimes it's not the amount of time you know them or the amount of time you spend with them - BUT that you had the time to appreciate them and what they brought to your life.

I am glad time caught up with me - it will slow me down and allow me to be my sad, sad, overdramatic and overthinking self.

I missed me.

Remain Seated Please... Permanaced Sentados Por Favor

After the week I just had (one of the worst in a very long time) - I could not decide which would be more interesting to "blog" about: 1. My brand new car getting stolen from my garage 2. My 24 hours of being awake and driving to LA 2X in one day to finally get home at 4.36 am = only because I forgot to lock the theater door or 3. Losing my cat Saturday night and breaking into hysterical tears in the backyard - crying and trying to call out her name - Since all of those options seem to be sad and "just my luck" I actually thought I would focus on a friendlier and more positive blog (it has been a while) --- DISNEYLAND!!! The happiest place on earth.

So over the past few weeks I have had the unlucky pleasure of driving up to LA at least 3X a week and on Saturdays to my theater in Hollywood. Most of these drives take me right up the 5 freeway, right pass Disneyland. The silly part about this is - I probably live less than 10 miles from Disneyland but the traffic on the 5 freeway through this stretch can take up to 45 minutes.

Each time I sit in bumper to bumper traffic pass the "happiest place on earth" - I think back to the days when I was less then seven years old - when we would drive in from the gutter of California (San Bernardino) to go to DISNEYLAND!

I remember being so anxious, so excited, so ... nervous. Would I see Mickey Mouse? Would he talk to me? Would I get sick on the T-Cups. I want to be the one to lift Dumbo up and down this time? Oh I love Small World - they remind me of my dolls. We better get to go to Country Bear Jamboree, Are those Pirates real? and OH MY GOD!!!!!! SNOW! SNOW! Snow? Snow in the city? It must be magic, real magic.

There was nothing like driving on the 5 freeway during the years of 1974-1977, depending on which parent had my brother and I for the weekend; we were either in a Pinto or a Corvette - either way the view from the freeway was magical.

I remember knowing we were close when I could see The Matterhorn in the distance. It was huge. It was the biggest mountain EVER! My mind back then truly thought that they had built Disneyland around the mountain - I never actually could have fathomed that The Matterhorn was not real. Certainly it was real - it had snow on it and trees = Not to mention real people from Switzerland were climbing it - Oh My God - what if they fall off - are they safe? How do they get down? Oh I was so scared. No way was I going to ride the bobsleds - no way = plus I remember hearing that the Abdominal Snowman lived inside the mountain - Are you nuts? I do not think I rode the Matterhorn until I was about 13 years old.

Now I am 37 years old and each time I drive by and look at the Matterhorn - I actually kind of giggle - it looks like a pile of rocks. It is so undaunting, so small and were did the climbers go. I can totally tell that it is man made and to be honest - I am not sure what I was so afraid of as a kid - that ride is a "yawn". The best part about the ride is standing in line reciting the bi-lingual greeting - which has not changed probably since the ride opened in 1959.

I wonder what the adult equivalent is now to the Matterhorn of 1974? I am not sure I have found the mountain of wonder today in 2007. You know that great feeling of anticipation, the eagerness to get somewhere with wide eyes and total belief in what is right in front of you. Does the reality of age take away the youthful imagination? Or can we find something magical to believe in today? And I am not talking about world peace, no hunger, and no poverty - I am talking Matterhorn Magic?

Who knows? Until I discover it - I guess I will look the other way as I drive pass Disneyland. I really don't want to see the Matterhorn from these eyes. I want to always remember the Matterhorn as I saw it from the window of the car back in 1977. 30 years ago.

Are you my Mother?

Have you ever had one of those dreams where it seemed like you were in a cartoon, but not just any cartoon - more like the pages of a Dr Suess book. Like you were skipping through the pages of "Who-ville" counting fishes and eating green eggs and ham, although you don't like green eggs and ham, wondering what mischievous deed is about to explode with the Cat in the Hat or better yet having conversations with Fox, or Horton, or even POP. I think last night I was actually having intense debates in my dreams with all of my Suess friends. Perhaps I was questioning those hard questions in life, like If I ran the circus or better yet if I ran the zoo - it all seemed oddly real, fun and then it went to poo!

I woke up.

I had not been drinking last night, and I do not do drugs - although most would question my sanity right now. I remembered my dream and it was a good one too. I thought about all the Dr Suess books I loved as a little girl and it brought me back to my most favorite.

Are you my mother? The story of a little bird who hatched while his mother was away, who set out to find her on a larger than life journey. This little bird asks everyone along it's path, a dog, a cow, a plane and even a tractor. Are you my mother?

Had I not dreamed about all of my Suess friends, I don't think I would have actually picked up on the question I have probably been asking for most of my life, myself.

It is strange to be without a mother, sometimes I wonder which part of her did I inherit. Did she have an insane love for theater and art? Was she incredibly emotional and felt the pain and sadness of those around her? Better yet - did she insist that background music was playing from all the early decades each and every day in her life to accompany the many, many special moments.

I often wonder about those things. I often wonder if she wonders about me? I often wonder what it must be like for her to not know me? Not that I am so damn great but it is odd to know that she is out there, and I am here and yet .... we don't know anything about each other really.

I happen to actually find this photo of my mother this morning, I was not looking for it. I was filing old bills in individual plastic accordion files by year, by category, and separated by statement date (that trait is from my dad by the way) and ironically I found this photo. Funny how dreams lead you to something, even when you have no idea. I blame the Cat in the Hat (always trouble with that guy - always).

I don't search for her anymore but I do wonder.

Thanks mom for the blond hair and blue eyes.

I just don't want to fall in!

Over the long Memorial Weekend, Dan and I decided we would go with a few friends up to Yosemite to camp along the Merced River. You see Dan is a rafter. He has rafted some awesome rivers in the world, one I have no idea how to spell in Chile called the Foolefoo or something like that, not to mention the Grand Canyon 3X plus many US rivers up to class V.

Now before this weekend - I had heard these rafting stories like old mystical legends. These trips seemed to have a certain boys club anonymity. I was sure you had to have a secret decoder ring to be a part of one; but not this trip = Girls included. So off we went. We were going raftin'. I was now a part of that club.

On the early morning drive there I had one thought about my upcoming river adventure - What if I fall in? You see I am not a strong swimmer? If I fell in there was only one place I would be falling and that is in the frigid cold water of the smashing, yet shallow Merced river. And when I say smashing I don't mean handsome. The last thing in the entire world I want to do is fall in.

Fear set in. Panic mode was beginning and I did not know if I could do this. I want to be brave, truth is - I am not. I want to be adventurous - truth is - I am not. There came a point in our drive that I was paralyzed with fear - not to mention - the smell of cow crap along the rode was penetrating.

As we arrived - we were able to drive the road that ran next to the river so I could get a good look at the water highway I would be riding down the next day...... {not so bad, I can handle, not intimidating} - BUT - What if I fall in? I can't swim real well and the water is frickin' ice cold. If I fall in, will I freeze and panic and have a heart attack. If I fall in, will I conk my head on a rock and be rendered unconscious only to gulp river water and drown. Regardless of this interior monologue - I put on my brave face and smiled at Dan and said, "I am in." He smiled. I think for the first time I was jumping in (pardon the expression) to something he loved passionately. This was the least I could do for him after all of the theater I had dragged him too in the past months- and the most recent play had a naked man in it. Not cool and certainly no way close to being fun, by Dan's definition ( which I now totally understand).

SO long story short - we rafted on Saturday. It was awesome. I was able to really see Dan in his element. When I was telling the story to a friend this week - she said to me, "Did you fall all over again.". Not hearing what she was saying completely - I said "No - I almost fell out but I did not fall in." She corrected me and said - "No, did you fall in love all over again?" I had to think about this for a minute because I have learned to believe that "falling in love" is actually dangerous. By definition - "falling" means decreasing in amount or degree, becoming lower or less and coming down under the influence of gravity. Now I don't know about you but anytime I fall - I normally get hurt and I am not talking just emotionally - but physically. If you fall down on the pavement - you get road rash, if you fall off a ladder you break your arm, if you fall in a freezing cold river with enourmous rocks, well ---- you get the picture I am sure.

I believe what I feel towards Dan is more of a "climbing in love". The past two years my love for him has grown in degree, it has risen and it has been steadfast and unwavering. We have been climbing together towards a life that is in front of us. We have never once fallen or felt less than the day before, we have only climed. So how can that expression "falling in love" be a positive. After this weekend - and after Dan rowed that raft through two pretty technical rapids. I realized - He would never let me fall. He would never let us fall.

I thought before this trip that I trusted him - now I know I trust, and it is not because he is a good rafter - it is not because I did not fall out of the boat. It is because I realized as we were stuck on that rock - and the rapids thundered in my ears, as I was holding on to the rope, the dog, and my beer - that there was no way - I was falling in.

Dan rowed the raft to shore once we had completed the last rapid (Class IV). We were safe. Adrenaline pumping - cheering and acting like we had just defied the river God.

I climbed out next to Dan which is exactly where I want to be for the rest of my life.

Just so you know - if I had fallen in -- he would have saved me. I am sure of it.

Driving Miss Gina

So I had the unlucky privilege to go to the in the incredibly overcrowded grocery store on Friday night after work. I normally avoid grocery stores at the end of a weekday, it just seems like every idiot is doing the same thing I am - shopping in a hurry, and trying to get out as soon as possible, which we all know is the exact opposite of what always happens.

As I was approaching the check out station, which seemed eerily like a hungry lion creeping up on some innocent prey, the way I was swarming behind the check stands waiting for one line to not have some jackass in it with 55 items. I mean seriously did everyone not realize that M-F grocery shopping should be for 1-6 items only. Who does that much shopping at 5.30 during a weekday - hello - that is what weekends are for.

Anyways, check stand #1 seemed to be free of a line, I darted down from check stand 6,5,4,3,2, and then....1. I was carrying that little plastic, unforgiving basket that they give you for "just a few" items. By the time I had shopped for my 6 items and carried the damn basket up and down the aisles my fingers were completely numb on my right hand. Could they not make a thicker handle. Does it have to be as thin as a straw. Think about it, basket designer people - really?

So I slide into aisle #1 thinking I was the winner to beat out the other 15 people jockeying for the same aisle when I realized and almost collided with the cute little hunch back old lady that had somehow, mysteriously beat me there. Where on earth did she come from? I did not see her as I was sprinting to the end. Regardless she only had 3 things: a potted plant, a horoscope booklet and frozen peas - not a problem I would be out of this place in no time. I looked at the little old lady and I noticed I immediately tried to stand up straight. I guess the fact that she was hunched over so badly made me try and stand tall. She looked over at me and I smiled. I did not want her to think I was starring at her (which I so was). She did not smile back at me. She knows I am pretending to stand tall. Crap.

By this time the checkout lady could not find a price on her plant. "Do you know how much this is?" said the check out lady . . . [no response]. "Did you see a price on these plants" . . . [no response]. "Maam" . . . [no response] - so at this point I am like you have got to be kidding me - why are you asking her - get the damn bag boy and have him walk over and get another flippin' plant [I did not say that]. I just stood there and smiled and tried to act like I was not so totally ready to FREAK out. I was pretending to be patient. All the while the little old lady stood there holding her wallet in her hand. She too was waiting.... Waiting with her hearing aid turned off obviously, but waiting nonetheless.

Now what seemed epic long the checker carried the plant over to the flower part of the store to search for the price. I stood there, shoulders back and smiled still. Looking back on this - I must have looked like a complete idiot. I mean what was I smiling about. Was I smiling that I was stuck now in a line that should have taken 30 seconds, which is now up to like 3 minutes? Was I smiling because I did not want anyone to think I was rude to old people? Was I smiling because I was so pissed off - I was about to cry? I have no idea. I just know I was smiling.

FINALLY - the checkout lady came back and told the little hunched back old lady that the plant was $6.49. "That is too much money," said the old lady. Which I thought odd as this damn woman did not hear the check out lady 5 minutes ago but now she could hear perfectly fine. "Do you not want it" said the checkout lady. "No I do, I just don't want to pay more than $5 dollars for it."

Okay - so this is when I am sure I have pissed someone off in a previous life. This is one of those moments when my ears kind of heat up, and my head gets a little full and dizzy. How did my innocent efforts to run in grab a few things end up totally thwarted by this little old lady. I took a deep breath and ... smiled, again. I think at this point I gave in. I tuned out and gave in.

I went somewhere deep in my mind for a few seconds and tried to imagine what I will be like when I am 80 years old. I am told now that I have more aches and pains "than an old lady". that I sometimes carry on about trivial things like "an old lady", that my drving at the best of times, "is like an old lady" and I am only 37. If this is what I am like now, imagine me in 43 years.

And then she carried her plant out of the store, and I was next. I quickly paid for my things and hustled to my car, backed out, and headed for the far side entrance cause left turns are quicker then the other side of the parking lot. As I made the second left back out on to the highway and drove paralel to the Stater Brothers Parking Lot - I saw her again, carrying her plant and a small bag to the furthest corner of the parking lot where there was only one car parked. There was an older man sitting in the driver seat, I will assume it is her husband. From where I was, he just looked like a husband.

And I realized, wow how lucky this little hunched back lady is. She is not in a hurry, she does not need to park the closest to the front of the store to run in and run out and she has earned the right at whatever age she is - to simply say, "I don't want to pay that price". Not to mention, there is someone she loves patiently waiting for her in the car to take her home.

I smiled.

No Ceramic Ashtrays - Simple really. Simple.

Over the past 30 years or more, this time of the year has always been a little bitter sweet. You see this is a holiday that I do not celebrate. I can't honestly ever remember celebrating this day in my life. I don't recall making some lame ashtray or a paper mache' flower collage out of construction paper and tissue. In fact, I don't even know what it is like to buy one of the cards that is specifically to a mom. The cards I have always picked out are the ones that say, "Your like a mother to me" or "Because you are a mom" or To my friend on Mother's Day. I have gone through the same motions of buying cards like this as long as I can remember with little or no personal feeling about that I was not actually getting a card for my mom.

Now I know that over the years of my life there have been many a surrogate that has touched my life. Most of these ladies I call "Momma". I have been blessed to know them in many ways. But there has never been one that I call MOM. The closest woman to ever be my mom, well I called her Mae. She was an African American woman from New Orleans that had a certain way about her that was borderline nutso but for all intense purposes - she was the closest thing to a Mom that I knew. And that "nuttiness" is what I really think what has made me the woman I am today.

I was hoping this year would be different. I would have for the first time been celebrating Mother's Day, but in a different way. I was going to be the mom. Someone would have got me a silly hallmark card that said Happy Mother's Day. For some reason, I felt that this year would have been the first "sweet" Mother's Day I had ever celebrated. No more bitter. Life had, as it always does, finally found a way for taking the bitterness away.

I am not sure why today is tougher than any other day for me. I am not at work being stressed, I am not sitting in traffic, I am not even up against a life changing decision. Today I just am.

I just am sad. I feel like it would have been really nice to have a mom last November when I miscarried, someone who did not embarrass me for crying, someone who was not going to rationalize all the medical facts, someone who was not going to expect me to immediately be "back to my old self" , or expect me to go straight back to work on Monday. I just need a mom to hold me and perhaps cry for a little while, someone that can be sad with me, someone that probably would have understood - understood SOMETHING I was and am going through.

So this year, it won't be such a impartial Mother's Day as it has been the last 30 years or so. This year it will be a little bit sad for me. And I deserve that. I deserve to be sad so that I do not have to be anymore. I am not strong. I am not the person the men in my life think I am. I wanted a mom, and there are times that I needed a mom and right now is simply one of them.

Simple really. Simple.

the Calm before the Storm

Hawaii, 2007.

Sometimes when I feel like there is something happening beyond my control or that the clouds are moving faster than I can focus; I think back to this day that Dan and I went fourwheeling in the Waipeo Valley of this Big Island of Hawaii. This seems to make it all stop and slow down, much like we did that day. We stopped and stood there and listened to...... nothing. It rained shortly after this photo was taken. I smiled.

Nine Years Old Good

Over the past years of my life I have always believed I have made choices that had purpose yet I have not been one to put myself out to any charitable cause in the last 28 years.

I think the last time I tried to be selflessly charitable I was nine years old and walked in the March of Dimes WalkAmerica, which by my own admission was only because my then best friends in Mrs. Gilpin's 4th grade class said we would do it together. So eagerly I went out and solicited sponsors.

Now on the morning of the walk NONE, I repeat NONE of my friends showed up, so I had to walk alone. Not cool. I did not own a pair of tennis shoes so I had to start the walk in little white sandals. My dad had said he would meet me en route and bring me a pair of tennis shoes...................I had six miles to walk. I can't remember the mile marker that my dad found me to give me new tennis shoes; I just know I remember limping and feeling like my feet had exploded and the brand new tennis shoes were unforgiving to my already swollen feet and the pain I was feeling earlier in the day was 100X greater.

I believe I crossed the finish line at about 4.30 PM that day (the race started at like 8am). I was one of the last people. I did not even get the award for walking because the kiosk had already been broken down. But I made it. I honored the purpose driven commitment I had made to finish and I felt good. Real good. My dad was proud. I was proud.

So here I am 28 years later finding a purpose to participate again. Why? I am not really sure what sparked the enthusiasm. I have been enthusiastic before and given money to APLA many times. Giving money is easy (even when you don't have much to give). You rationalize it by saying I will pay less on a credit card so I can donate some money. You write a check and pop it in the mail. Done, and you feel good.....but not real good, not 9 years old good.

You see, many people I know have been diagnosed with cancer or they have had friends die of cancer and we all go through the sadness with them, nothing you can say ever seems full enough to help ease what they are going through and you never really feel like it was enough.

NOW - I could easily again write a check in the name of my theater company (The Elephant Theatre) who is also championing this cause OR I could be a member of our team and put in some effort and physically be present to support and raise money to help research a cure.

I chose to be a part of it and it felt good, real good, nine years old good.

The monotony of our lives tends to take over and we robotically go through life in the same habitual patterns. We think we have purpose, to our family, to our jobs, to ourselves but there is always a bigger purpose when you step outside of your circle and STOP.

I am stepping outside my circle and I am proud to support the Revlon Run/Walk for Women. I feel that I am doing this not only for myself but for my friend Olive who has faced cancer 2X and won or for my friend Tracy who lost her best friend to cancer or to a dear old friend Maureen who has just recently had a double mastectomy and I can not tell her how sorry I am because we have lost touch. You see purpose isn't about what you can easily do for yourself it's about what you can do in honor of others when it has nothing to do with yourself at all.

I have tennis shoes now. I only have to walk 1/2 the distance I did when I was nine and I have a whole team of friends I know will be there as a team to do this together.

May 12th = I am so excited to be 9 years old again.

To Contribute to my efforts please click on the link below. All donations are 100% tax deductable.

https://www.revlonrunwalk.com/la/secure/mywebpage.cfm?pid=365652

Lost & Found

For some reason, today I feel like I have been "found". I guess for the past almost year I have felt, well, a little lost. When I moved in August I lost my blog. Funny, how I lost something and I am the one that felt lost.

Ironically, for the first time in many months I made the decision last evening that today I was going to do NOTHING. I would have been happy to stay in bed and watch the 8 episodes of 30-minute meals that I have yet to watch. I would have been happy to fake sleep all day until it was time to go to bed and then real sleep. I had simply decided I wanted to do NOTHING. Well, I can't do nothing. If you know me you can appreciate that doing nothing is so counterproductive. So with the day to myself what was I going to do, hmmmmmmmmmmmm.

Well NOTHING turned into something.... It turned in to be finding my BLOG, which found me. I feel like a kid in a grocery store that had been going up and down the aisles and I have been simply one aisle away from comfort.

Today we met in the "spice aisle". I am settled.

Now - why is this so important - BECAUSE -- I have a tendancy to go on and on and to champion ridculous current events or non events and to be honest I think the people closest to me are like"So what Gina, who cares, why are you still talking about this, zip it".

Now - I know blogging may or may not ever be read by anyone but to me at least I have voiced myself over things as important as the War and as crazy and menial as Sanjaya,

So with that said - my mind is racing, and my hands are shaking because so much has happen in 12- months I don't know where to start. I just know that I am found and that feels like SOMETHING.

United 93

I remember where I was on September 11th, in fact I know most people do. It's kind of like when Kennedy was killed, or Lennon was shot and even when the space shuttle exploded. While I don't remember when Kennedy was killed, I am the type of person that remembers every detail of the moment that I personally experienced.

I remember hearing on the radio when Elvis Presley died, I was at my Grandmother's house I was seven years old (1977), I did not understand why she was sad. I remember when Lennon was shot, I was standing in my living room watching television I was ten years old (1980), I did not understand why my brother was sad. I remember when the Challenger exploded, I was in my fourth period Algebra class taking a test, I did not understand why my teacher called class out early, I was 16 years old (1986) and I remember having my roommate wake me up on September 11th 2001 to tell me that the World Trade Centers had been hit by planes, I was 31 years old and I was sad.

September was a day that I remember and I truly feel like I was part of. I am sure many people felt affected and outraged and we were all able to personalize these terrorist acts. I know I immediately said to myself - I was in the World Trade Centers the year before having breakfast at 9.00 am; WOW - that could have been me. I, like all people, was glued to the television watching newscast, after newscast, all of the CNN specials, the tributes, the memorials and I know I was emotionally upset each time I watched something. The sadness and tears became my "fix". It was almost as if I knew these people that had been killed. I wore the pain, I felt the pain and I really, honestly thought I had experienced this disaster first hand.

That was until I saw this movie.

There is a lot of controversy whether it is too soon to make a movie about this tragedy, I was even chastised by a co-worker for even going to see it. I have heard a lot of opinions from people who actually have not seen then movie yet are very secure in their judgements - which is fine, we all have that right.

BUT == I can tell you that on September 11th and the months following I NOW know that I in no way was a part of that experience. I actually had no idea what had happen, what people had went through or what these victims could have been going through. I can now think back and say my empathy was probably more about myself, my own mortality, and my own fear of not living a full life.

Sitting in the theater watching a movie I already knew the outcome had no bearing on the internal desire and adrenaline that was pumping. I almost believed these passengers of this flight were going to be successful. In most HOLLYWOOD action movies, we all cheer for the heroes, and we all secretly wish we were one of them, we all smile when the plot wraps up nicely and we go home BELIEVING, we could have done that. No problem.

I could not have done what those passengers did. I can not even fathom the notion of KNOWING I am going to die and just having to wait the 50 minutes to do so. This is not a prolonged illness where we are surrounded by loved ones and flowers, this is not a gun shot wound on a freeway that kills instantly = this is the idea of knowing you are going to die and doing something about it.

Who would I call, would I pass out from fear, would I just sit in my seat and cry - would my frickin credit card have enough money on it to call home and tell my family that I loved them and I was going to die, who would take care of my cat?

Unless you have a direct connection to this tragedy, of which I am so very sorry for your loss - You really have no idea. Go see this movie, if you think you experienced September 911 from your cushy sofa at home - you did not!