Today is a momentous day and a joyous occasion. You have accomplished much and come far. What lies before you is college, the military, jobs, training, travel, a whole world of possibility. Your parents are proud of you and so am I. I have been asked to speak today because the school believes that I am an alumni who can offer you view into a successful future. As a moderately successful actress who has appeared in a few commercials and as the friend on a few sitcoms, I would agree with your teachers. I am an example of the moderate success that hard work and determination can lead to, but that it not what I want to talk about today.
When I walked across this stage nearly 15 years ago, I was full of a mix of emotions. I have come to talk about some of those emotions. I have come to tell the truth. For those of you who are looking toward the future filled with excitement and hope: I am not here for you. This speech is not for you.
I have come to you today to tell a difficult story. It is a true story and I tell it, not in an effort to gain your praise or your sympathy or your admiration. Instead, I tell this story because I believe it might touch one of you out in the audience. I look at all of you, so young that you don’t even know how young you are. I remember that age. I remember Brother Tom, some of you may still have him for European History. He stood before us in his black frock that looked like a big dress draped over his belly. He told the class that it was the best time of our lives. At that time, that was the worst news I could have been given. If I could offer one bit of advice to all of the teachers here today: stop telling children that highschool is the best time of life. You see, I knew then what I know now. And I come to tell you not because I do not think you know, but because I do not want you to be alone in your knowing.
It was not the best time of my life. That was a cruel impossibility. It wasn’t obvious. I had friends, loving parents, good grades, and teachers liked me. I had a date to homecoming and prom. I competed with Mr. Hardkin’s Mock Trial team and even went to state finals. Teachers described me as energetic and outgoing, but there was something wrong with me. Or rather, something felt wrong with me. Something creeped and crawled inside me, left me crying in the far stall of the bathroom and angry at the universe. My parents called it teen angst, but I knew it was something deeper, something different. Something untouchable and more harmful than a hormone-driven phase.
Depression found me early. I was a happy child with an easy smile and when I found myself a miserable freshman, imagining ways to kill myself, it had happened so gradually that I was not surprised. Of course, the harassment and bullying by some of fellow students certainly didn’t help slow my emotional decline, but that is not a topic for today. I’m sure I’ll have ample opportunities to discuss my experiences at a reunion should I decide to actually attend.
I believe that there are those of you out there who know all about these feelings. Those of you who have felt them and have hidden them. I want you to know: your secret is not so secret. It is universal. It is shared.
I tell you this not to shame you, that is the last thing I want to do. I tell you because I want you to hear me. I want you to know that depression is not some harmless stray cat that you let into your home one day and feed. It is a monster in disguise. It is a savage, remorseless, brutal creature with sharp claws. It does not love you, does not write your poetry, does not help you feel and it will kill you if you let it.
I was twenty-six. I had nursed and loved my depression, treated the little parasite like a pet, had made it so much a part of me that when it shut me down and drove me to madness, I shrugged my shoulders as if an adorable puppy had just shit on my rug. I said, “Well, that’s just my depression, it is November after all.” As if any excuse could make up for the havoc it was wreaking.
I was twenty-six. The ambulance came faster than I had expected and the note that I had written for my room mate seemed as appropriate knowing I would survive as it did when I had thought I would die. It said, “I’m sorry about the dishes. I’m just so tired.” My method for attempting suicide is not important. Some of you may want to ask me about it after my presentation and I will not tell you. My method is not important. Suffice it to say, I wanted to die and knew how to get it done. But, among the frozen bits of me that wanted to die there was that tiny, pink flesh corner that wanted to live. The piece that picked up the phone and called the ambulance, that admitted what was happening and refused to give up.
I will not go into the gory medical details because I am not here to use scare tactics. I believe that you are all smarter than that, that you deserve better than that. Instead I will tell you that they loaded me to the ambulance, they took me to the hospital, and they saved my life.
The next evening, I had dinner in the cafeteria of a mental institution. It was the first time that I knew, I knew, I was in the wrong place. I looked around at my fellow patients, my peers, my colleagues in insanity and I knew that I had made a mistake. I knew that I had let a weed fill my garden, suicidal ideation, like a poisonous flower had bloomed in the garden of my heart and had taken over the soil.
It wasn’t that moment exactly. It wasn’t even when my room mate showed me where, in the bathroom wall, she hid her contraband chocolate. It was later, in the cold quiet of the night that something new sprang inside of me.
Laying there, on a twin bed with a rubber mattress pad, I could feel the harsh weave of the hospital blanket. Light from a floodlight flowed in through the bars on the window and was muted by the curtains. The thing I felt was shocking, overpowering. I lay in that little bed and sobbed with relief; I wanted to live.
I see that some of you are giggling. It may seem overdramatic, or maybe you’re laughing to hide your discomfort with the topic. It doesn’t matter to me. I have my story. I have my salvation.
I am here to tell you that it should not get so far. You should not let depression linger in your house. You must care for yourself better than I have. Your teachers will not sense your pain. Your friends will only be made uncomfortable by your anguish. You must fight your own fight as others have done. You must press on, or perish in battle, defeated by your nemesis.
Thank you, and congratulations to the class of 2011.
Monday, November 11, 2013
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Pancho Villa, Tequila, y la Policia: Mexico City Day 1
Well, I made it Mexico City and have to say that so far, I am in love. It's sort of a mashup of Venice boardwalk and downtown LA with colonial architecture thrown in for good measure. It's a beautiful, crowded, jumbled city and I love it.
The flight to Mexico was utterly uneventful and I was exhausted from my final week in LA so I slept the whole way here and even had trouble waking up for the landing. I got an "approved" taxi at the airport and we were off to the hostel. The taxi driver was a nice, older man who made small talk in Spanish with me while we made our way through the traffic to the hostel. At one point, disgusted with the traffic, he suggested that maybe I would like to stay at another hostel, maybe one that wasn't so far, but I persisted and we arrived a few minutes later.
The hostel is nice and clean. My room mates have been fine so far. There is a young German woman who was very inquisitive and when she found out what I'm doing and how old I am told me that I am very brave for ignoring societal norms and not become an adult. I wanted to tell her that she was very brave to say that to my face, but I bit my tongue and just said thank you. It really doesn't matter what some German girl thinks, I'm on the right path, I can feel it.
I slept for a few hours and when I woke up, I made a deal with myself that I would just have a beer at the bar and then go back to bed and attack the city this morning. However, as the saying goes, my best intentions and plans were... well...
I was at the bar when I started talking to the bartender who is from Austin, Texas and a fellow guest who is from Belfast and they were going to a party and invited me along. I figured that it couldn't hurt to go out and see a little of the city and so the night began! We met up with Rob and James, two PhD students visiting Mexico for their research and a man from Spain. We walked to a bar called Opera Cafe that was a beautiful old restaurant built at the turn of the century. We joined a bigger group of people who were celebrating a birthday and enjoyed a beer or two while offering birthday wishes. The man sitting next to me explained that in the corner of the room, there were bullet holes in the ceiling from when Pancho Villa had shot the ceiling. To be honest, I couldn't tell from the story if he shot the ceiling as a celebration or intimidation.
After the Opera bar, we walked to the sister hostel to our own and saw a great reggae band perform. We danced to the great music and then Jose, a member of the group decided that it was time to do shots of tequila. I don't usually drink tequila so I felt the shot almost immediately. Still, the night was young and we were having fun so it was time to go to the next party. I started talking to a woman from Spain named Ana and invited her to join us. We wandered out of the hostel and into the streets of Mexico City which is when we discovered that it is illegal to carry an open beer in the streets.
The police came up to us and took the beer away before they began asking questions and talking about arresting us. The police and our group of five took turns saying semi-apologetic, semi-hostile things to one another and looking at our feet. It was finally determined that 200 pesos (about $20) could help the officers forget about the beer and we walked away a little shaken and about 200 pesos lighter. I know it's awful, but there's something about watching people bribe the police that made me feel like I'm truly in Mexico City.
We walked to a museum where there was a party and a bar on the second floor. I think the museum was about the history or telephones, but my comprehension was rather compromised by then, so it could have been an art museum. I ordered a Coca-Cola in an effort to move away from booze. It was a good choice and we danced for a while to some great music.
Finally, it was time to get a little bit of late night food and then crash. We walked to a cafe near the hostel called "Cafe Popular" where I had chorizo and black beans that was so delicious I worried that I had died and gone to heaven. Cafe Popular is an all-night diner manned by round older women who could be your abuela (grandma) instead of your waitress. Finally, full of delicious food and happy to be wandering to the hostel, I climbed into my bed and slept deeply. I'm sure I snored loud enough to make my room mates wonder if they should look for another room.
My first nigh in Mexico City was a beautiful success.
Day 2: Frida Kahlo, Leon Trotsky, and The Cardinal
The flight to Mexico was utterly uneventful and I was exhausted from my final week in LA so I slept the whole way here and even had trouble waking up for the landing. I got an "approved" taxi at the airport and we were off to the hostel. The taxi driver was a nice, older man who made small talk in Spanish with me while we made our way through the traffic to the hostel. At one point, disgusted with the traffic, he suggested that maybe I would like to stay at another hostel, maybe one that wasn't so far, but I persisted and we arrived a few minutes later.
The hostel is nice and clean. My room mates have been fine so far. There is a young German woman who was very inquisitive and when she found out what I'm doing and how old I am told me that I am very brave for ignoring societal norms and not become an adult. I wanted to tell her that she was very brave to say that to my face, but I bit my tongue and just said thank you. It really doesn't matter what some German girl thinks, I'm on the right path, I can feel it.
I slept for a few hours and when I woke up, I made a deal with myself that I would just have a beer at the bar and then go back to bed and attack the city this morning. However, as the saying goes, my best intentions and plans were... well...
I was at the bar when I started talking to the bartender who is from Austin, Texas and a fellow guest who is from Belfast and they were going to a party and invited me along. I figured that it couldn't hurt to go out and see a little of the city and so the night began! We met up with Rob and James, two PhD students visiting Mexico for their research and a man from Spain. We walked to a bar called Opera Cafe that was a beautiful old restaurant built at the turn of the century. We joined a bigger group of people who were celebrating a birthday and enjoyed a beer or two while offering birthday wishes. The man sitting next to me explained that in the corner of the room, there were bullet holes in the ceiling from when Pancho Villa had shot the ceiling. To be honest, I couldn't tell from the story if he shot the ceiling as a celebration or intimidation.
After the Opera bar, we walked to the sister hostel to our own and saw a great reggae band perform. We danced to the great music and then Jose, a member of the group decided that it was time to do shots of tequila. I don't usually drink tequila so I felt the shot almost immediately. Still, the night was young and we were having fun so it was time to go to the next party. I started talking to a woman from Spain named Ana and invited her to join us. We wandered out of the hostel and into the streets of Mexico City which is when we discovered that it is illegal to carry an open beer in the streets.
The police came up to us and took the beer away before they began asking questions and talking about arresting us. The police and our group of five took turns saying semi-apologetic, semi-hostile things to one another and looking at our feet. It was finally determined that 200 pesos (about $20) could help the officers forget about the beer and we walked away a little shaken and about 200 pesos lighter. I know it's awful, but there's something about watching people bribe the police that made me feel like I'm truly in Mexico City.
We walked to a museum where there was a party and a bar on the second floor. I think the museum was about the history or telephones, but my comprehension was rather compromised by then, so it could have been an art museum. I ordered a Coca-Cola in an effort to move away from booze. It was a good choice and we danced for a while to some great music.
Finally, it was time to get a little bit of late night food and then crash. We walked to a cafe near the hostel called "Cafe Popular" where I had chorizo and black beans that was so delicious I worried that I had died and gone to heaven. Cafe Popular is an all-night diner manned by round older women who could be your abuela (grandma) instead of your waitress. Finally, full of delicious food and happy to be wandering to the hostel, I climbed into my bed and slept deeply. I'm sure I snored loud enough to make my room mates wonder if they should look for another room.
My first nigh in Mexico City was a beautiful success.
Day 2: Frida Kahlo, Leon Trotsky, and The Cardinal
Friday, June 24, 2011
A Poem
I have been writing again lately and it seems important to go ahead and share these things. If only because it forces me to be honest and admit that I am doing it. I'm trying to treat writing less like masturbation and more like... baking?
Ventriloquist
Ventriloquist
There is a piece
An ossification
Near the center
a bone that broke
near the gut and between the lungs
nestled at odd angle
dangling heavy
That whines when a storm approaches
Long before the sky has darkened
It's a storm I say
It won't matter I say
The windows permanently shuttered
I am in the root cellar sorting
The rotting from the spoiled
There must be something left to save
Then look around
Who said that?
Thursday, June 16, 2011
In Which I Offer Advice
Okay, I'm not much of an advice person. I truly hate receiving it and don't much enjoy giving it as I am almost always certain that I'm wrong. But, I was asked by someone about how I travel and how I make it work. So, here's what I wrote in response.
Hi,
Oh my! I talk a big game, but I am not the most fearless traveler I know. In fact, I've learned a lot from other friends who are far more experienced than me. Basically, I've been very fortunate.
Normally, my travels are fairly brief. I started traveling after my divorce because while I was married, my exhusband always had an excuse for why we couldn't go somewhere or why the timing was wrong for a trip. So:
#1. Get rid of your excuses. None of them matter. 60 year old you will kick you for not doing things rather than for having to save a bit more aggressively for retirement later on or having to pay off debts.
#2. Travel alone. If you wait for someone to go with you, you'll never go. Stay in hostels and make friends with other travelers. I've made a lot of great friends in my travels and now, when I'm in Europe, I have people who can come and meet me for a weekend in Budapest or Brussels.
#3. Ask friends for connections and help. When I went to Slovakia, I was able to work it out with my employer here in the states so that I could take a month off from work. A Slovak friend helped me negotiate an "internship" in a brewery in Slovakia so they provided a base where I could live and work during the week and then spend the weekends traveling by train.
My current adventure is that I'm moving to Peru to get TEFL certification. Then, I'll look for a job and hopefully teach. I'm paying off all of my debts before I go and hoping for the best. I'm selling almost everything I own.
For me, life traveling alone has its ups and downs. It's great most of the time because you can do/see/eat exactly what you want and you don't have to discuss it with anyone or accommodate anyone. It can also be incredibly lonely. You may have made it to the Eiffel Tower, but guess what? There's no one with you to take a picture of you in front of it. So, you ask a stranger, and that's fine...
I've heard good things about couchsurfing.org I'm about to visit Mexico City and I'm thinking that I'll try it out to see if I can get someone to show me the city.
I hope this message isn't too totally pedantic and that at least some of the information was helpful. Buy your plane ticket and then just keep going!
Cheers,
~peigi
Hi,
Oh my! I talk a big game, but I am not the most fearless traveler I know. In fact, I've learned a lot from other friends who are far more experienced than me. Basically, I've been very fortunate.
Normally, my travels are fairly brief. I started traveling after my divorce because while I was married, my exhusband always had an excuse for why we couldn't go somewhere or why the timing was wrong for a trip. So:
#1. Get rid of your excuses. None of them matter. 60 year old you will kick you for not doing things rather than for having to save a bit more aggressively for retirement later on or having to pay off debts.
#2. Travel alone. If you wait for someone to go with you, you'll never go. Stay in hostels and make friends with other travelers. I've made a lot of great friends in my travels and now, when I'm in Europe, I have people who can come and meet me for a weekend in Budapest or Brussels.
#3. Ask friends for connections and help. When I went to Slovakia, I was able to work it out with my employer here in the states so that I could take a month off from work. A Slovak friend helped me negotiate an "internship" in a brewery in Slovakia so they provided a base where I could live and work during the week and then spend the weekends traveling by train.
My current adventure is that I'm moving to Peru to get TEFL certification. Then, I'll look for a job and hopefully teach. I'm paying off all of my debts before I go and hoping for the best. I'm selling almost everything I own.
For me, life traveling alone has its ups and downs. It's great most of the time because you can do/see/eat exactly what you want and you don't have to discuss it with anyone or accommodate anyone. It can also be incredibly lonely. You may have made it to the Eiffel Tower, but guess what? There's no one with you to take a picture of you in front of it. So, you ask a stranger, and that's fine...
I've heard good things about couchsurfing.org I'm about to visit Mexico City and I'm thinking that I'll try it out to see if I can get someone to show me the city.
I hope this message isn't too totally pedantic and that at least some of the information was helpful. Buy your plane ticket and then just keep going!
Cheers,
~peigi
Monday, May 23, 2011
Things I've Done in Los Angeles
On May 22, 2004, I moved to Los Angeles from Las Vegas. I've had a very full life here and to celebrate, I sat down and made a list of some of the things I've done while living here:
- Gotten married
- Gotten divorced
- -----
- -----
- Assisted at the births of five babies
- Built numerous bonfires on the beach
- Been engaged twice
- Rear-ended, side-swiped, and clipped other cars
- Ridden a Critical Mass
- Trespassed in a Pelican Reserve
- Fed a llama through a kitchen window
- Shot at a bobcat with a bb gun
- Found a snake in the bathroom
- Eaten a rattlesnake that was killed by a neighbor
- Swam in a salt water pool on the edge of a cliff
- ----
- Attended an art dinner
- Attended the LATimes Festival of Books with an author
- Attended a televised awards show in a gown
- Got a friend to tell a crude joke in front of Leonard Maltin
- Hiked to Griffith Observatory
- Written for a music magazine
- Brewed beer
- Won a ribbon in the county fair
- Attended a concert alone
- Seen the following bands perform live: Cat Power, Pedro the Lion, Emmylou Harris, Willie Nelson, Band of Horses, Ryan Adams, Porter Wagoner, Marty Stewart, Maroon 5, Dwight Yokum, Billy Bob Thorton, Radiohead, M. Ward, Dengue Fever, Andrew Bird, Tom Brosseau, The Mountain Goats, Zoe Keeting, Ricky Skaggs & Kentucky Thunder, Doc Watson, Earl Scruggs, Carol Channing, Michael Palin
- Taught young offenders to knit
- Volunteered at a homeless shelter
- Ridden the metro
- Been on the board of a brew club
- ----
- Ridden a motorcycle through the Angeles National Forest
- Danced at King King in Hollywood
- Puked in the bushes in Hollywood
- Puked at a metro station
- Biked down the coast
- Eaten chicken satays at a curry festival
- Taught people to brew beer
- Worked in a yarn store
- Taken a lot of classes: flamenco, yoga, stained glass, sewing, draping, pattern-making, doula-ing, writing, anatomy, human development, microbiology, statistics, biology, nutrition, homebrew, BJCP, beer flavors
- Gotten a friend pregnant
- Gone to a movie premiere for a movie voted "worst of the year"
- Lived in: North Hollywood, MarVista, Hawthorne, Westchester, South Robertson, Little Armenia/Thaitown, Koreatown, Burbank, Altadena
- Knit for a fashion company
- Gone to Dodgers game
- Eaten nachos at a Galaxy game
- Had a beer at a UCLA hockey game
- Gotten loads of parking tickets
- Eaten cow tongue
- Threatened someone with a knife
- Been interviewed by the local news
- Been interviewed for marketplace on NPR
- Gone wine tasting
- Learned to make gumbo
- Dated online
- Sabotaged a blow-up doll
- Learned to be alone
- Been painted nude
- Bought a train case at the Pasadena Swap Meet
- Been painted clothed
- Gotten a colonoscopy and two endoscopies
- Watched The Big Lebowski 500 times (at least)
- Eaten Korean BBQ
- Seen Mary Roach speak at USC
- Been to a private presentation at the UCLA plantarium
- Learned to navigate celestially
- Worn a bear suit to my birthday party
- Worn a bear suit to a political rally
- Played croquet in Griffith Park
- Gotten a turkey drunk
- Had a chicken steal an egg from my plate
- Watched a family of deer from a few feet away
- Taken the ATV route to a campsite (in my Neon)
- Taken a sound bath
- Started my own business (as a doula)
- Sewed a period costume based on a picture
- Catered an art opening
- Sat in a cubicle
- Written short stories and poems
- Started a novel
- Attended a critique group at Beyond Baroque
- Had five wisdom teeth removed
- ----
- Eaten from taco trucks
- Attended a tattoo convention on the Queen Mary
- Pet sharks, a starfish, and a manta ray
- Given a cat cold medication
- Invited strangers to parties and Thanksgiving
- Take a sock monkey to a party at a museum
- Broken up, a lot.
- Gotten together
- Been to the Magic Castle
- Spilled red wine on a "serious magazine journalist"
- Fed a Lorikeet by hand
- Used a washboard to wash clothes
- Watched a movie in a cemetery
- Had fancy cocktails at the Edison
- Ice skated in Pershing Square
- Marched in an antiwar protest
- Been invited to a "naked hottub" while dancing in Santa Monica
- Pet a police officer's horse at the Blessing of the Animals
- Taken Burlesque classes
- Gone fabric shopping in the fashion district
- Gone to the enormous flea market at the Vernon station
- Raised worms on my patio
Friday, January 18, 2008
Student ID
On Wednesday night I went to campus and got my student ID before class. I'm giddy with the excitement of being a student again!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)