ohhelloholly

apoetreflects: “If you wait until you got time to write a novel, or time to write a story, or time...

Fri, 24 May 2013 07:25:05 -0700

“If you wait until you got time to write a novel, or time to write a story, or time to read the hundred thousands of books you should have already read—if you wait for the time, you will never do it. ‘Cause there ain’t no time; world don’t want you to do that. World wants you to go to the zoo and eat cotton candy, preferably seven days a week.”

—Harry Crews

What It Took To Get Roses (20 Years Ago Today)

Fri, 24 May 2013 07:09:38 -0700

Friday, May 28, 1993 – Memorial Day Weekend

The first thing I saw was the grove of eucalyptus trees that stood further down, alongside the highway. The first thing I heard was the commotion of voices above me. Shadowy figures hovering over top, darkened to almost nothing more than shapes with the setting sun behind. Someone commented that I was coming to and they said my name in a soothing but purposeful tone.

“Hi Holly, you’re okay.”

And then that’s when it began to dawn on me; I’d been in a car accident. My jostled brain and re-emerging awareness could almost recall what had happened minutes before. Alone and on my way north, up Highway 101, I had come up in the fast lane on a car going slower than I. With cruise control set, I knew to tap on the brake to release the steady hold, but when I did nothing happened. I know panic set in at that moment. The car ahead of me was still a ways off, so I quickly looked over my right shoulder and found that I could switch into the slow lane to go around it, but I needed to do it now as there was a car on the approach. Too sharp, too fast, I swerved into the slow lane and ended up running my passenger’s side tires into the gravel on the shoulder. At that point, I’m not really sure of the details, but it all sent me beyond what I could control and I ended up driving right off the shoulder, where I believe I hit some sort of a ditch, I think, and over my car began to flip. I can recall the giant, thunderous sound of my car making its first impact with the ground. A horribly loud thunderclap of a crash, shatter and crunch whose sound and shock waves resonated all the way into my skull and down my throat. Lights out.

The first time I remembered that humongous sound of impact, I was standing in line at Burger King at the mall, some months after the crash. All of a sudden, staring up at the lit menu above the cashier’s head, I involuntarily brought the memory back to mind. I stood totally still, staring at that menu and was nearly brought to my knees, re-living the improbable sound of me crashing my 4Runner.

After lights out, it was reported to us by an off-duty sheriff and two other eyewitnesses, that my car flipped another three times and came to rest, right side up, in a field of tall weeds, narrowly missing a giant, wide-trunk tree just a few yards ahead. Worried something might ignite in that tall grass, the off-duty sheriff, maybe with the help of the others, ran to my side and found me knocked out. Because of the extensive damage to the car, the only way to get me out was to pull me through, what must have been, the broken out window of the backseat behind me. I remained unconscious through the whole ordeal.

By the time I came to, the paramedics had arrived and transferred me onto a backboard and my neck was secured with a brace. When I opened my eyes and became aware of what was happening, I freaked out.

A voice or voices saying my name and telling me I was okay did nothing to soothe me. I immediately went into hysterics. I wiggled my toes in my black, round-toe, lace-up shoes and was relieved I could still function below the waste.

“It’s okay, Holly. You’re okay.” They did their best to calm me down.

“But I’m supposed to graduate in three weeks!” I cried out, repeating that phrase in a panic, over and over for the next few minutes.

A hard fought battle with the Spanish language was just about won. I was going to walk across the stage to receive my BA, which turned out to be contingent as it took me another eight months to make up the finals I was about to miss. I always said a degree from UCSB meant a graduation into well-rounded-ness: you know how to enjoy the fun in life and still manage responsibility – enough anyway. After this Memorial Day spent up at home, I was supposed to go right back down to school, cram for finals and then celebrate. On what felt like the long road to get there, I’d chewed through a total of three schools and four majors, three of which were actually declared. I wasn’t going to miss this.

“You’ll make it to graduation.” They tried to reassure me, but I was spun, totally hysterical and inconsolable. I settled down a little bit when they asked me where they might find my parents. They’d found my planner (in the days of Daytimers) and asked which of the other numbers they could and should try since there’d been no answer at home. I was still so fuzzy-headed and the first thing I came up with was maybe they were at my aunt’s. I told them to look under my own last name.

They reached my aunt, to whom the dispatcher was speaking when Mom called in to follow up on the message they’d only just left for her on our home answering machine. She’d been out with my sister and had just gotten home to hear the message,

“This is the Salinas Highway Patrol. Please call us back regarding your daughter Holly.”

My poor mother; her and every other mother’s worst fear – a child killed in a car accident. Our family had already suffered one such tragedy when Dad’s sister was killed less than a two years before I was born. All of them, his parents, his other siblings, my mom, driving back from an Easter Sunday spent on the Delta had actually driven up on the horrific scene. My aunt, for whom my sister is named, and her husband and young son had left earlier than everyone else and in the interim had gotten in a horrendous head on collision, killing all three of them, my twenty-two year old aunt and four year old cousin on impact. The wound of that unbearable grief stayed fresh for years and my parents were especially strict about us driving with other people for long distances and we always had to call right before we left a place and again as soon as we reached our destination. Driving was an understandably tender issue.

Squeezing the circulation out of my little sister’s thirteen year old hand, Mom had called the Salinas police and they’d unimaginably put her on hold as they finished the call with my aunt. Relief washed over her when she found out all they had to do was drive the two hours down to get me. I’d be okay.

I did have a broken right collarbone, a concussion and quite a few laceration and gouges on my face, arms and shoulders. After seeing the picture of my totaled truck, I was amazed I’d even survived.

In the ambulance ride to the hospital, I remember hearing enough to know they’d reached my family and let them know I was okay. What the dispatcher had relayed to Mom over the phone was direct from the paramedics at my side, “physically, she’s fine; emotionally she’s in need of support”. So well put.

My memories are all pretty disconnected until I was in the hospital room, still on the backboard. The on-duty highway patrolman had come into the room with me and would keep me company until my mom arrived. I remembered his name for years, but have since forgotten it. He was young and had a dark mustache. It was so kind of him to stay with me. We chatted on and off and it was to him that I remember saying, as I looked at my outstretched hands and fingers,

“Oh wow – I didn’t break a nail.”

That made him chuckle.

The nurse came in to suggest it was time to take me off the back brace but when she began to move me, I cried out in pain. The searing in my collarbone was a sharp and intense pain that I wasn’t prepared for. So she gave me a shot of Demerol, and when that wasn’t enough, a half hour later a second shot and within five minutes after that I would’ve danced a cha-cha, if asked.

Since I was in painkiller la-la land, it seemed like no time before my mom and sister arrived. Before they got there, my dad had been patched through to my hospital room and we’d had a chance to speak, briefly.

“I’m just so glad you’re okay, Holly Bear.” I remember his words clearly.

“Hi Mom! I’m fine!” I offered cheerfully when she and my sister peeked into my room.

“Fine!?” she squeaked in her tiny, incredulous way.

It was time to get me ready to go home and as they began to unhook me from my IV, the needle pulled out with it a little bit of my blood. My sister went sheet-white and had to lie down on the gurney next to mine. There stood Mom, between both daughters stretched out on hospital beds.

The next day or so I spent upstairs in my parents’ room, on their big bed. It was surreal to wake up the next morning and recall what had happened the previous evening. A follow-up visit to our local hospital had revealed my concussion, confirmed the break in my collarbone and added a sprained shoulder. Otherwise, I was fine. I had to call my friends down at school to let them know what happened. I called my best friend and roommate first.

“Bub, I got in a car accident!” I was almost embarrassed to admit it, although I’m not quite sure why.

Then I called my boyfriend, who, at the time, wasn’t really my boyfriend. We weren’t technically going out, but we were sort of moving in the direction of getting back together after a turbulent ride through the winter of our senior year. Our relationship had bobbed along in a ‘gray area’ swinging back and forth between light and dark. So where exactly we were on our continuum, I’m not quite sure, but I do know that when I did get back to school ten days later, our relationship came back together in a new and much easier way; although neither of us ever ‘declared’ it. I guess we didn’t need to this time, but instead seemed to surrender to the uncomplicated happiness we’d felt in the very beginning. I lightened up about everything I’d taken so damn seriously and he began to take seriously, or so it seemed, what he’d made light of and we shared what turned out to be a beautiful, although final, summer together. A summer that for me, made all the colossal heartache and drama of the previous school year worth something.

He hadn’t been home when I called, so I chatted with his housemate, the one we called “Long”, so nicknamed because of his shoulder-length golden brown hair. A year or so earlier and well before I really knew him, we’d been at the same party and, standing in a random kitchen, he’d flipped his long hair out behind him and a lock of it stuck in my shiny lipgloss. I stood there with his hair clinging to my bottom lip, looked over at my two best friends and made an ‘omgwtf’ face. The three of us erupted into a fit of laughter.

Long wrote a message for D and left it on the counter; something to the effect of “Holly in car accident. Please call.” Which he did and the next day, he had a dozen long-stemmed red roses delivered to my doorstep.

I was so touched, but I wanted to laugh. So this is what it took, I thought.

I wanted to go back to school right away. I wanted to get on with the life I’d been granted to keep living, but I needed time to heal and everyone wanted me to stay home for a week, although the doctor didn’t insist on it. By Monday, I was so bored and anxious I began to seriously consider going back right then. Now, I actually think it wasn’t boredom, but the need to begin putting the whole scary ordeal behind me and get back to normal. I didn’t have to go back right away as I was quickly granted special dispensation from my professors to postpone my finals, some of which would have to wait until the following winter as the teachers were leaving right after exams to go back to their home countries for the summer. D and Bub promised to handle all the pre-graduation stuff I wouldn’t be able to do for myself.

To get me to stay, Mom, who’d taken over my summertime receptionist job at a local business, asked them to allow me a little temporary work there in order to keep me occupied. I enjoyed going in to see everyone – all the people I’d worked with the previous summer – as I always did, and of course they all got to hear the story of my dramatic car crash and marvel at the wonder it was that I was alive. I ‘worked’ there, with my right arm in a sling (I’m right handed), through that Friday.

And do you know who called to check on me and offer his thanks that I was okay? J, my first boyfriend, surely prompted by his sister, but nevertheless immensely appreciated by me. Our keeping in touch had slowed to nothing by that point. I think, once I began to mention D’s name in our phone calls, our relationship, even the friendship, came to its natural conclusion. Now he was calling to tell me I should be glad. Why? Because, he said, everyone is destined to be in something dramatic like a big car accident and now I was lucky, it was over. It was a balm for whatever unhealed parts of me remained wounded by our breakup. I don’t think I’ve heard his voice since.

Walk across the stage to receive my ‘diploma’, I did, a few weeks later on a sunshine-y Santa Barbara afternoon, the kind of day that’s sure to leave your nose and shoulders sunburned. With many members of my family in the crowd, I marched down to the water’s edge graduation site between D and Bub, the two people I felt closest to at that point in my life. I remember the walk the three of us made to campus that morning, strolling along the eucalyptus lined pathway, the one we’d walked so many times before and soon, would never need to walk again. In our caps and gowns, we’d felt the significance of the moment; and we felt a little famous: the graduates. Bub and I continually and melodramatically lamenting, “This is the laaaaaast time….” as we’d done for nearly every activity over the last month.

Pomp & Circumstance sounds so especially regal and joyful when it’s being played for you. I remember looking up at D in his graduation regalia as he said with sing-song-y importance, “Oh my God. This is totally a moment.” It totally was.

My collarbone healed a bit wonky and my right shoulder is forever noticeably lower than my left. I hate cruise control and used it again only once after the accident in a show of ‘getting back on the horse’. I’m forever grateful that I only grew to 5’2” because had I been any taller, I’d have been badly injured by the collapsing roof of my 4Runner. I think the highway patrolman who stayed with me was a very sweet person. I’ll never forget the extreme anxiety I felt when I regained consciousness, the desperate feeling of wanting to go back in time and un-do the bad that had happened; almost to the point that I began to believe it was possible. And in a way, I guess maybe I did, if only for D and me.

"Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter’s oven? And is..."

Thu, 23 May 2013 17:34:36 -0700

“Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter’s oven? And is not the lute that soothes your spirit the very wood that was hollowed with knives? When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy. When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.”

- Khalil Gibran

"I wouldn’t be surprised if poetry - poetry in the broadest sense, in the sense of a world..."

Thu, 23 May 2013 16:09:00 -0700

“I wouldn’t be surprised if poetry - poetry in the broadest sense, in the sense of a world filled with metaphor, rhyme, and recurring patterns, shapes, and designs - is how the world works. The world isn’t logical, it’s a song.”

- David Byrne

"Nature loves courage. You make the commitment and nature will respond to that commitment by removing..."

Thu, 23 May 2013 14:43:21 -0700

“Nature loves courage. You make the commitment and nature will respond to that commitment by removing impossible obstacles. Dream the impossible dream and the world will not grind you under, it will lift you up. This is the trick. This is what all these teachers and philosophers who really counted, who really touch the alchemical gold, this is what they understood. This is the shamanic dance in the waterfall. This is how magic is done. By hurling yourself into the abyss and discovering it’s a feather bed.”

- Terrence McKenna

"Important encounters are planned by the souls long before the bodies see each other."

Thu, 23 May 2013 13:17:20 -0700

“Important encounters are planned by the souls long before the bodies see each other.”

- Paulo Coelho

"Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life, and you will call it fate."

Thu, 23 May 2013 11:51:50 -0700

“Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life, and you will call it fate.”

- Carl Jung

"Wherever you stand, be the soul of that place."

Thu, 23 May 2013 10:25:50 -0700

“Wherever you stand, be the soul of that place.”

- Rumi

smartasshat: pocketcontents: thistumblerhasane: acrackinthetar...

Thu, 23 May 2013 09:14:33 -0700

smartasshat:

pocketcontents:

thistumblerhasane:

acrackinthetardis:

thistumblerhasane:

I can’t decide what I’m most cranky about. The no Traffic, but at least they’ve got a separator, or “Pete Townsend.”

WHO THE FUCK IS PETE TOWNSEND?!

THE LEAD GUITARIST/SINGER OF THE WHO YOU UNCULTURED SWINE

No no, you’re thinking of Pete Townshend.

Curious how almost two year old posts all of a sudden start getting reblogged. And then people start shouting at you. I blame Yahoo.

Did I already have a reason for waking up today? Shit, I can’t remember. Consider this one.

Are we just going to ignore the Comic Sans?

bbook: From Richard Linklater to Mel Brooks, Here’s What You...

Thu, 23 May 2013 07:53:02 -0700

bbook:

From Richard Linklater to Mel Brooks, Here’s What You Should Be Seeing This Weekend in New York City

♥

Thu, 23 May 2013 07:52:30 -0700

♥

Thoughts on a Thursday

Thu, 23 May 2013 07:45:00 -0700

There’s no doubt about it, I feel better when the moon is full. I have no clue what that means really, but I’ve been paying attention to this pattern for more than 6 months now and it’s true.
I had an amazing Reiki session with my mentor yesterday. I felt pretty goofy afterwards and was tired and sorta spacey for the balance of the day, but this morning - I feel better than I have in weeks.
It hasn’t been easy, but I’m finding my center. I suppose it’s been the wild swings from good to bad that have taught me where that middle-ground lies. It will be from this center that I’ll be able to move forward w/ compassion for myself and those around me.
The dark moments really do shine a light.

lonelyhenry: McD Chicken Namtok (Thai Traditional Spicy...

Thu, 23 May 2013 07:22:15 -0700

lonelyhenry:

McD Chicken Namtok (Thai Traditional Spicy Chicken) with Steamed Jasmine Rice at McDonalds in Bangkok, Thailand. (May 23, 2013)

lonelyhenry sure eats some amazing fast food. dang.

Photo

Thu, 23 May 2013 07:20:37 -0700

From: www.fullmoon.info

Thu, 23 May 2013 06:52:55 -0700

Dear full moon friends,

The full moon will be on Saturday (or Friday for certain time zones).

Moon events are exact and predictable and therefore the opposite of a human life. We have to acknowledge sooner or later that things turn out mostly differently than planned. Often, only in retrospect we do understand why everything had to unfold the way it did. Herein lies a magnificent opportunity to reconcile with your past. Once this principle is understood, you can shape your presence in another way, by telling yourself in case of unexpected trouble: “I will be able to understand later, why this is happening now.”

The exact time of the next full moon is:
Saturday * 25th May 2013 * 06:24:54 am
Central European Summer Time (CEST)
Moon sign: Sagittarius 04° 08’

Here you find this time converted into different timezones for other cities:
WELLINGTON = Saturday * 25th May 2013 * 04:24:54 pm (NZST)
SYDNEY = Saturday * 25th May 2013 * 02:24:54 pm (AEST)
TOKYO = Saturday * 25th May 2013 * 01:24:54 pm (JST)
BEIJING = Saturday * 25th May 2013 * 12:24:54 pm (CST)
BANGKOK = Saturday * 25th May 2013 * 11:24:54 am (ICT)
DELHI = Saturday * 25th May 2013 * 09:54:54 am (IST)
MOSCOW = Saturday * 25th May 2013 * 08:24:54 am (MSK)
RIYADH = Saturday * 25th May 2013 * 07:24:54 am (AST)
BERLIN = Saturday * 25th May 2013 * 06:24:54 am (CEST)
LONDON = Saturday * 25th May 2013 * 05:24:54 am (BST)
RIO = Saturday * 25th May 2013 * 01:24:54 am (BRT)
NEW YORK = Saturday * 25th May 2013 * 12:24:54 am (EDT)
MEXICO CITY = Friday * 24th May 2013 * 11:24:54 pm (CDT)
LOS ANGELES = Friday * 24th May 2013 * 09:24:54 pm (PDT)
HONOLULU = Friday * 24th May 2013 * 06:24:54 pm (HAST)

quotes about walking a mile in someone’s shoes are following me this week. hmmmm…..

Wed, 22 May 2013 21:31:07 -0700

quotes about walking a mile in someone’s shoes are following me this week. hmmmm…..

resisted the mat

Wed, 22 May 2013 20:58:08 -0700

and then i surrendered and just finished 30 mins of yoga that - of course - i feel tons better for having done.

practice.

accionpoeticaenchile: “Y ahora que todo es distinto ¿Qué...

Wed, 22 May 2013 20:54:07 -0700

accionpoeticaenchile:

“Y ahora que todo es distinto ¿Qué haremos con los recuerdos?”

Volcán Llaima. Las Condes

"Celebra el amor en una manera completamente nueva. Abre tu corazon para que el amor guia tu camino."

Wed, 22 May 2013 18:20:17 -0700

“Celebra el amor en una manera completamente nueva. Abre tu corazon para que el amor guia tu camino.”

- Roxana Jones

"Deserve your dream."

Wed, 22 May 2013 16:40:15 -0700

“Deserve your dream.”

- Octavio Paz