Wednesday, December 3, 2014

Free form thought

It's a big responsibility.
One I'm happy to have.
If I really do have it.
Because FREE is getting something without giving anything. Something for nothing.
And that's not how freedom works.
It's a series of choices and commitments, risks and dares. There's a fear factor to freedom.
It's an all-in kind of deal. You can't be half free. That's like being half alive. It's delusional.
Like Plato's example of shadows on a wall. You're living a life of projections instead of actions.
And that's a shame.
I've thought about my life abstractly and what I've come up with is this:
I am free...
... and it terrifies people. Nobody that I know who is content and happy is free. They do things for others and behave the way they need to in order to fulfill obligations set in place by someone so they don't loose what makes them feel safe.
I do it; I tip toe along keeping one eye on the wall and the other on the light projecting the images.
I look to the darkness behind the projector. And what's scary about it is also THE corner stone of all that is freedom:
The undefined.
As soon as anything is defined it is done being free. Strange. How TO BE something essentially means determining your own end. But without definition there is no way to be accepted by the rest of the world living in the light. It's fun and warm and safe there where walls and colors, shapes and methods keep us all moving and following a highway of light, safe from the unknown darkness we'd prefer to not acknowledge.
Even now it's impossible to accept the idea of the dark as infinitely beautiful. Irrational and undefined but ultimately powerful. Because nothing that is made has the power of what it had when it was unmade. Because nothing that knows itself has all the components it had before it did. Because knowing is defining and defining is limiting.
Why do we crave limits and then ask for freedom?
Freedom is what then?
Perhaps we've decided that freedom is merely the choice to define ourselves. In doing so it's true we choose our own mortality. We choose to have a limit; a finite timeline.
But why?
Why would anyone born free choose these constraints?
What are we getting out of all these definitions?
Physical experience.
And maybe it's worth the sacrifice.

Here are a few guys you'll recognize:

They like to ask questions like this. They like to think in general. And we all trust them because their intelligence and contributions to science, something we also now trust, are renowned. But I want everybody to know it's okay for us to ask questions too. You don't need a degree or a TV show. It's okay for all of us to talk and discuss and debate and THINK.

More links you may enjoy:

Monday, September 8, 2014


There is nothing wrong with being single.
No, I really mean it.
Nothing wrong at all.
Not just "in the mean time" or "in lieu of"
It's not "Just okay".
It's pretty freakin' awesome to be single actually.
But I find myself always having to justify it, to explain it. "Why?"
Even to myself.
I find myself, actually found myself just now, always apologizing for it
so that people understand,
there's nothing WRONG WITH ME for being single.
There's nothing that I'm missing, I'm not diseased or cursed or psychotic or
challenged in any particularly unattractive way.
I'm not unattractive at all.
Actually, and not to brag, I've been told the opposite.
I'm very attractive. I'm a pleasure to be around, funny as hell, and I'm a great friend.
So what's wrong with me that I'm "still single"?
I'm totally awesome! And my awesomeness doesn't hinge on having another person
attach themselves monogamously to me.
I wouldn't be MORE awesome or better off if I do find someone to share myself with.
And the more I grow and get to know myself the more I realize the answer to the
"Why are you still single?" question is simple:
Because I want to be.
Or more specifically I want to be who I am right now and if part of that is "single" then,
Okay. I'm not "wanting to be" anything else.
I haven't admitted that to myself before. I've been disconnected from myself in many ways, not realizing the full extent of my awesomeness I guess. But when it comes right down to it,
down to "brass tax" as my grandmother would say, I didn't ever choose to focus any serious amount of energy on "finding a man"
"hitching a man"
"catching a man"
"trapping a man"
Instead, my time is spent raising a man, who is particularly awesome himself and I feel
that's the best investment for my time.
But there are other single mom's that date plenty; that have steady boyfriends, or multiple boyfriends or have even remarried and have husbands. And it's not that I'm raising a young man that I don't have any of those.
It's because of me.
Just me.
The way I am and where my attention goes to.
I chose to go back to school.
Not to get a man
to get an education.
And I'm interested in ideas and thoughts and thinking them and discussing them more then I've
ever been interested in people and what they're into or what they're doing or who they're doing it with.  Not that I'm antisocial:
I'm usually the life of a party.
So that's not why I'm single.
And I'm not single because "I just haven't found the right one yet".
I'm single because deep down inside, I want to be.
I want to be single.
I enjoy my own company.
And I enjoy the company of my close friends and I'm fulfilled by the relationships I have RIGHT NOW and don't think a relationship with a boyfriend would be better then those. It might be a great addition to an already great lot, but that's it. It wouldn't have improved me or completed me or somehow fulfilled me in a way that all the love I have in my life right now is somehow not doing.
Because it is doing it.
I'm actually happy!
I adore my son and my dog and I'm not missing out on anything by not being in a relationship.
My life isn't lacking in anyway.
I'm good.
All good.
Not just "alright" or "alright for now".
I'm ALL right , RIGHT NOW, not missing anything or missing out on anything. I'm whole,
complete, satisfied and HAPPY as I am.
and there's really,


nothing wrong with that.

Thursday, June 19, 2014


What is inherently  unprofessional about breasts?
And legs? What's unprofessional about legs?
What about asses?
What is INHERENTLY- intrinsically- unprofessional about any of those things?
Think about it.
They're all parts of the body, parts both males and females have, but are particularly admired on the
female sex because, after physical maturation, those are the parts of the female body that typically become exaggerated.
They're outstanding female features. They're the parts of our human bodies that often get shapely and
attractive when you're FEMALE.
And so, they're ... "unprofessional" ?
So inadvertently we've uncovered the real standard behind "professional".
Because this is a "man's world" and a man's body is the only kind that is "respectable" and to be
taken "seriously". Woman's bodies are for play and therefore to belong in a "respectable" and "serious" atmosphere their "playful" and typically female features MUST be covered, hidden or down played.
In addition to this bigoted view, a bonus for us girls (yeah right), we're also supposed to believe that it's for our own good. You know, like the concept behind Hijabs and burqa, to protect us from men-
men who have no responsibility to control themselves. A way of hiding ourselves in their world because when it comes right down to it, if we're not willing to fuck them, play with them or serve them it's a world we have no place in.
I have breasts. They're beautiful. And they're not unprofessional. To suggest that they're unprofessional,
or that my cleavage being exposed is "unprofessional" is to agree with the above bigotry.
A subconscious part of our upbringing as females is to view our bodies as dirty things, as things that have to be "covered" and down played. It's perversely untrue.
Now, I'm sure there are many of you out there wondering, well would she just walk into work with her tits hanging out?
But if I want to wear clothing that accentuates that particularly lovely part of my body, then I will.
And there's no one that has any right to tell me it's "unprofessional".
Because this is NOT a man's world.
It's not even a HUMAN'S world.
Our earth would continue to revolve without any one of us, male or female.
But the communities we've created here, our way of life, has been grossly skewed toward male dominance and convenience and it's been done by the constant shaming and dismissing of it's female citizens which MUST stop.
Our bodies are beautiful. There is nothing "unprofessional" about them.
Professional dress is, in it's purest form, being well-dressed. Dressing your absolute best in clean,
well-groomed clothing to demonstrate that everything about you and your ideas is composed and eloquent. That has nothing to do with not showing a cleavage (or legs or shapely bottoms). We've been told it does because we've been conditioned to believe that these parts are "play" things and therefore not to be taken out in the office.
My cleavage is not a play thing.
It's my thing.
It's a beautiful part of me and if I choose to show it there is nothing "unprofessional" about it.
Such is the same for legs and hips, for all parts that are inherently female. And as females we really have to stop believing this male biased brainwashing. We have to stop raising our daughters to believe it's THEIR responsibility to control male impulses towards them.
It's not.
We have NO OBLIGATION to cover our bodies to spare them the unwelcome discomfort that comes along with controlling their impulses.
Suck it up boys.
In others words, self controlled and individually responsible for your person and your actions.
Your hard-on: Your problem.
Your distraction: Your problem.
Not ours.
We have breasts. Maybe you should get used to that. And as much pleasure as they may give you,
they're not there for you, they are there for us, which means that the ways in which they please us supersede the ways in which they please you. If we think they look particularly pretty in a certain blouse then that is WORLDS more important then the fact that you may be distracted by them in that blouse. Deal with yourselves. And stop telling us it's our job to do it for you. Stop telling us that those of us that embrace the beauty of our bodies and show it off are "sluts" or "whores" or "dirty" or "unprofessional". It doesn't mean a damn thing other then we like the way we look! That's a huge feat for any woman who is bombarded with insecurities and negative judgments from all sides, everyday, from both men and women.
And say we see a girl at a bar. And her skirt is short and shirt low cut. Maybe we stop judging her moral character based on what she's wearing and simply stick to criticizing what she's wearing.
Does it match?
Is the outfit working for her?
What could she do to improve it?
But none of us have any right to go there with the moral judgments and personal slurs "slut", "whore", etc.
And maybe she IS wearing those clothes because she wants to get laid that night.
What the hell is wrong with that?
As long as she respects the boundaries of others, like a man that is most obviously with someone else, or individuals who are too wasted to make coherent decisions (which, by the way, is an accepted and encouraged MALE strategy for picking up booty for the night).
And say, just say, we wear that shirt we like to work, the one that shows off our beautiful cleavage, and we happen to glance that guy across the conference table glimpsing at it.
Is he a pig for it? Is he out of control and misogynistic and oppressing our rights as individuals?
He's just admiring our cleavage much the way we did when we were smiling at our reflection in the mirror that morning. If he turns creepy and starts to GAULK at you, and then starts to hit on you when he should be focused on working, well then, there's a problem. But a little glimpse? Just an unspoken compliment.
We're all just people after all. People will be people. And as long as we can respect each other and control ourselves, we may just do well by this world.


Tuesday, June 3, 2014


Very rarely do audition opportunities make me angry; this one did. The service that Actors Access provides is not only needed but much appreciated so I hope this commentary doesn't come off as ungrateful or even critical of them in any way. The fault is born in the casting "professionals", movie makers and such that post casting  notifications on this site. In a business where "type" casting is common I'm used to casting criteria that reads "Asian", "African American", "Caucasian". I'm even used to descriptions such as "Model type", "pretty-but not model type"... etc. as if anyone of us, especially women, are really good at deciding if we're "pretty,  or pretty but not model type" at all, but hey, that's the business. And certainly you know if you're "model type" because there are very specific physical parameters defining it: over 5'7", maxed out at 125 lbs., long legs, high cheek bones... we see their faces all over. They aren't necessarily the most attractive people but they are the people that the current fashion industry wants to put its clothing on- therefore they are "model types".
This is the industry I'm in. My skin has grown thick to shallow and blunt descriptions of people that relegate them to little more then colors and shapes. Literally. But colors and shapes are colors and shapes. It's a physical reality. We're curvy or straight. We're a certain amount of feet and a certain amount of inches. We weigh what we way. That doesn't get me angry. What does get me angry, what infuriates me because it's so common, are the certain casting notifications that use descriptions such as "girl next door" and, the one that inspired this commentary, "All-American" that make my blood mother fucking BOIL.
Know why?
Because who they HELL are they, is anyone, to define what "next door" and most especially "ALL-AMERICAN" is?
Here's the casting notice that sent me into a rage today; please read it:

Certainly not the only, really one of MANY, that use this description "ALL-American" but really mean what the link they include in their posting shows. I've posted it here:

Do these women look "ALL-AMERICAN" to you? Sure. If you define "ALL-AMERICAN" as White Anglo Saxon Protestant (WASP) people with their common features of small nose, thin and tall body and, oh yeah, sparkling WHITE skin. If you want a woman who looks like this for your ad, fine. That's your prerogative. It's your ad, put who you want in it. But don't you dare perpetuate this ignorant and ANTIQUATED way of thinking by defining her as "ALL-AMERICAN". What she is is a CAUCASIAN MODEL TYPE. There you are. Clearly defined and perfectly described. THAT'S what you want? Then THAT'S what you should ask for! But don't you dare, don't even fucking THINK of defining those features as ALL-AMERICAN, because you know what?- they're not.
Most Americans look NOTHING like this. These features are demonstrated by a VERY SMALL group of people who are no more American then any of the rest of us. You are perpetuating ignorance, discrimination and demonstrating stupidity by calling her, or her male counter part, "ALL-AMERICAN", or, it's sister phrase "GIRL NEXT DOOR". Whose next door? Not mine.
Nobody that I grew up around looked like that, whether they were white  or not. A very select MINORITY of kids I grew up around looked like that, but how the hell could their features define what "ALL-AMERICAN" is when they were most certainly
the minority?
And discrimination.
And entitlement.
The entitlement of a specific group of people to force their assumed superiority onto the rest of us by telling us that "Americans" look like they do and then there's the rest of us who are...uhhh... I don't know... just being allowed to live here?
That's reserved for a very specific MINORITY group. The rest of us, no matter where we were born, how long we've lived here, or how much we've done for our communities and country, are just borrowing space.
Including our PRESIDENT?!!

Fuck you.

I'm an American- ALL AMERICAN!
I was born here, raised here and wear the WWII jacket of my father who fought to protect our way of life here.
You know, the way of life that only some people think they have the right to benefit from?
But my father wouldn't have fit into this "ALL-AMERICAN" look either. He had a big Italian nose that doesn't seem to fit in anywhere in Hollywood except for the villain/mobster category. But he sure enough fit into a uniform to fight when he was needed didn't he? Yeah. THEN he was "ALL-AMERICAN" enough.
Can this country stop using it's citizens the way spoiled little brats use their Barbie Dolls?
It's ridiculous.
So from now on, casting directors world wide, don't perpetuate ignorance and bigotry by calling those features, those very specific and MINORITY features, "ALL-AMERICAN".
They're not.
Most Americans look nothing like that.
Like it or not the hair and skin and eyes of MOST AMERICANS is darker.
We're not as tall or thin.
It's just that simple.
MOST Americans don't look like that. Some Americans most certainly do, but to define that
as the "ALL-AMERICAN" type is simply WRONG.
Can we stop this please, casting professionals world wide?
No matter who you are, if you want a person with the physical features indicated in THESE example photos then please, please define those features for what they are:
NOT "ALL-AMERICAN" but Caucasian, Model-Type Americans.
Pretty and photogenic but
No more "AMERICAN" then the rest of us.

Tuesday, December 31, 2013

In Full Effect

I almost apologized today.
About four hours ago.
I almost just apologized for having an opinion.
For doing something I enjoy.
For doing something that was right for me.
My NEW neighbor complained to me about my "exercise" routine in the morning.
It pounds right above his and his girlfriend's heads at 5 a.m.
Every morning.
And you know what?
That's how it's gonna stay.
I almost apologized for it.
But I didn't.
'cause it's a New Year.
And I'm here in full effect.
And I've been doing my routine in my little apartment for the last two years now.
Actually I've been exercising in my living room of any apartment I've rented for the past 11 years now!
*!At home exercise! it's cheap, fun and IT WORKS.
Or just go to YouTube:
And you'll fine HUNDREDS of tips, tutorials and sample programs. For real.
#AtHomeWorkOut is the way to go.

But today, my new neighbor decided he wanted to "discuss" some options with me.
And you know what I told him?
There weren't any.
We just have to learn to adjust to each other.
My routine is TIGHT.
I sacrifice and work hard, waking up at 4:30 a.m. M-F to exercise, wash dishes, prepare breakfast for Doug and I, Shower, get Doug out of bed and moving, and get out of the house in time to catch a train at 6:08 a.m.
I simply made it clear that there was no other time for me to exercise.
When I get home, I'm all about making dinner and doing Homework with Doug.
And then, I get my ass to bed at 10:30 p.m.
That's my M-F.
And it works for me.
And I almost changed it.
And apologized.
To two people who make noise and have cars driving up until 2 a.m.
Fuck That.
I'm changed.
And I LOVE it.


Tuesday, December 10, 2013

On Being Alone

A word keeps bouncing around my brain:
I keep thinking it about most every woman I fucking see.
Angelina Jolie, for some reason, poor lady, came into my mind. ( I watched an interview w/ her yesterday- that's probably why).
Have I ever seen this woman w/out a man?
So many women are like that.
Never by themselves.
One man to another man.
Maybe not night after night but relationship after relationship.
It's been stewing and brewing and really fucking messing me up.
I've been getting angry about it...
Why do all these women, even ones I'm supposed to look up to,
ALWAYS have to be in some kind of relationship? Aren't they EVER alone.
By themselves.
Happy to just be?
And then came today.
And today always comes.
And, in the process, new conversations, news things to here about and see and discuss.
So when the discussion about Pink,
 (THE Pink,
Pink my rock star idol and absolute Goddess role model because she's so kick-ass and in-charge and fierce,
oh yeah,
she writes amazing music that could speak for me it's so accurate and heart felt and angst-ridden)
in concert,
which my co-worker got to go to last night,
came up
and I went from super charged to angry and all twisted within a second of my co-worker saying
"She wrote this song for her ex-boyfriend"
and almost knocked the wind out of myself.
And that's when I stopped,
and took an internal look around.
And asked myself a strong and unbending:
What The Fuck Michelle?
A.) This is PINK we're talking about. You don't get angry at PINK!
B.) Where the hell is all this anger coming from anyway?
Is Pink co-dependent? She has been w/ Carey for quite sometime.
And before him,
there was another,
that she wrote a song for!
Is she codependent too?
And just what are your criteria for co-dependent Michelle?
And is that what you're really angry about?
Do they, women you admire, or other women, women you don't even know,
all have to live a life exactly like yours or you'll rip and tear at them until they look
as ugly as you'd like to make them out to be?
Now that's some self-hate!
So I tried to just take a fucking minute and relax just bit and think about this whole off-putting situation objectively, if only for the duration of this blog.
And I started to think,
It could be that I'm jealous of these women.
Even the ones I don't know.
Not because they have men, or women for that matter:
No. Coveting is not the sin that's causing my soul sickness.
But I am jealous of something about them,
something they have in their character that I don't.
They have the ability to share themselves with somebody else;
to know they're worthy of another person's devotion.
Of a man's devotion.
I'm not trying to isolate my lesbian sisters but, you should know, that I've often wished I'd been
born a homosexual because I feel like I'd fit in a lot better in a situation where I could fall in love
with another women. Because I trust women.
I just can't seem to trust men.
I can't trust that they'll do anything more then see the fuck through me.
It's real. This feeling I have of being absolutely worthless as a mate for a man.
And yet that's how I was designed. I was born a heterosexual woman. I was made to want to
BE with a man.
But I can't be.
And this shit just got really deep.
And I don't know what to do with it.
I get angry at people that I don't even know for being with men more so because I can't be
then because they shouldn't have to be.
Though a rational part of me stands by our need as women to stand on our own and find wholeness
in our own company and NOT NEED constant companionship from somebody else (INCLUDING our children, and friends and family) when does independence become isolationism? And when does feminism become a front for bitterness?
I feel I'm toeing that fine line. I can actually see it. And honestly, I'm sad that I got here in the first place and a little scared because I'm not sure how to turn back. Or to proceed. Or what to do at all.
I've always been happy being alone. Since I was a child I could loose myself in my fantasies and play world and not realize I was missing anything. But after having my son and realizing the necessity of joining the world at large I realize now that I was completely unprepared for how the rest of the human race behaves.
I don't need people the way that they seem to.
I don't feel alone when I'm alone the way they seem to.
I feel awkward in a crowd, even though I feel wonderful in front of one.
Crazy right?
No. Not for me. It's just me, it's the way I am and I actually like myself that way.
But I don't like being angry.
And I don't like being hateful or scornful or damning toward people I don't even know primarily because the way they are makes me feel like an outcast.
And I'm not supposed to mind being an outcast in the first place.
Once again, I'm stuck in a paradox and the only way I can think to get out of it is
to write about it. Maybe if I give it it's own life, here, on this page, it will take off on it's own,
and leave me alone.
To start all over?
I've got to deal with this eventually. Eventually I'm going to have to embrace the part of me that really would appreciate being appreciated by somebody else. The part of me that still looks adoringly at bridal gowns, in part for the sheer beauty and artistic integrity of them but also, silently, two people being in love moves me to tears.
How hard is too Hard-ass,
and when does the Iron Cast I've shelled myself up in start collapsing in on itself, myself?
I've reached that point. And I don't like it. I wish things didn't come to this,
that I'd never come to this,
but I'm here. I've traveled here on this new day that, on this day, has brought me to a line that's formed a mirror that's made me see some things that I don't like seeing.


Monday, June 3, 2013

The elected double mastectomy

A lot has been buzzing around about Angelina Jolie and her double mastectomy.
I will not download pictures of her or quotes from her recent interviews. I have no wish
to use her image to sell my blog. My blogs are my opinions, nothing more. But such a
strong opinion has developed in me over Angelina's recent activity that I couldn't stay
away from this page. I had to get my thoughts out.
First let me say that my grandmother had a double mastectomy. She was a breast cancer
survivor. I've a very close friend who has had regularly scheduled mammograms from early in
her life because of the frequency with which her family has encountered the cancer. I take
breast cancer and all cancer very seriously.
But not as seriously as I take life.
Life is more important then cancer.
It always will be.
But when thinking about cancer,
preparing for it, and preventing it, becomes a priority in life my skin begins to crawl.
It was because of the discovery of a faulty gene, one that makes breast cancer far
more likely for the carrier, that Ms. Jolie decided to undergo a preemptive, preventative
double mastectomy. She is a mother of six. She wants to live.
I can understand that,
more then understand that. My son is my reason for living. He is "my best thing".
I'd take out anyone who may take something away from his life,
I'd even take on death itself.
But is that what Ms. Jolie did?
Because I don't think so.
She decided to play into the odds that, because of this gene, she had a 60% chance of developing
breast cancer. She decided to decide that cancer was inevitable because of this specific
gene that may or may not decide to show itself.
It is her right. Had she decided to take off her breasts simply for aesthetic preferences,
it is her right. That is her body, she can do what she likes with it. And she's never been a particularly
conventional girl so it wouldn't have shocked me. But my concern is not for her actions,
but in the reactions of the press and public.
Ms. Jolie is a hero.
She is being hailed as "brave" and "strong".
I do not agree.
I do not believe that bravery and strength is reactionary to "maybe" and "what if".
Nor do I believe that either can live where one is so willing to surrender to a "possibility".
My possibilities for success, based on my birth place and life experiences thus far, is slim to
none. Should I play the odds and stop trying?
Athletes throw themselves into harms way daily, making their bodies 95% more likely then mine to
be injured, possibly irrevocably.
Should they stop playing?
But Beyond the playing of probabilies,
what of all this making God out of science?
Now science not only creates life, but is the sole provider of it's sanctity as well?
Genetics is now predicting our future and it is brave, strong and, yes,
(at least this is what the press implies)
MORAL to concede to it's predictions!
Are we living in the world of The Minority Report?
We can now predict and are being encouraged to react to what MIGHT happen as
what inevitable WILL happen and so here comes our higher evolution.
But I think it's de-evolution.
Because once upon a time people were brave enough to not have to predict the future to get
through each day.
They used a thing called faith and it worked very well.
And yes, sickness would come
and so would death.
But that didn't scare people either.
Not only because of the belief in an after life, because not everyone with faith believes in an after-life,
but because of their belief in the sanctity of life, and it's right to run out of us as surely as it
ran into us.
Fighting for our lives is at the core of who we are as a species. Every species is programed to
do what it must to survive.
But is this what we're doing?
Are we attempting to survive, or refusing survival by attempting to take out any and all obstacles?
To me, survival is not so simple as preserving our lives or extending our life span. It's about facing
down obstacles and persevering through them.
This is not what we do when we decide to react to what MIGHT happen as if it were what WILL happen.
When we do this we are actually cowering out of a potential challenge, a chance to show
how well we can survive.
Life is not merely a chance to preserve ourselves for as long as we can.
In fact I do not believe that is what life is at all.
Life is a series of experiences to be learned from and to grow from,
NOT to run from. Especially when what you're running from is a mist or a shadow
from some kind of fortune teller-
even when they call themselves "Doctor".
My heart goes out to Ms. Jolie. Because to me it looks as if she has deduced a sickness in her chest
and wrongfully focused on her breasts. The way I see it, her ailment is in her heart. She has never dealt with
the death of her beloved mother and her sadness has grown into fear and that fear into a convoluted logic that somehow what she's done can prevent her children from ever experiencing the same pain.
I get that.
None of us want our children to suffer, physically or emotionally.
But when we treat illness it's nonsense not medicine to treat the wrong organ,
to misfire and direct our 'treatment' toward something easy to ascertain instead of what is more
difficult to understand.
This will not relieve her fear.
It will be back again. And no, I can't predict the future.
But I know that fear grows when it is unhampered. It's not like a dormant gene.
It shows itself in many ways from the moment it creeps into our souls.
And it festers.
What frightens me over this situation is that fear has been dressed up as courage, wisdom
and yes, morality.
It's taken on that guise before and never lead us in good directions.
For all those women, and men, who have been touched by breast cancer,
my heart goes out to you. And I admire your struggle. I admire your courage in the face
of an obstacle that you choose to confront and fight everyday.
Understand that even for those of you who will loose the battle, you have not lost even
one moment of your life.
Because life means living. And death can happen even before you stop breathing.