Tuesday, March 29, 2011
The 12 Steps - a design for living
I am not ashamed to accept that I am one of the one in 10 who has an addiction to alcohol. Have to say I had a huge amount of fun, outdrank a lot of men (useful in the music business - they were really annoyed when I'd get the down to the black ball as well) and fortunately, lived to tell the tale and to stop drinking. For me it gave me a design for living that I certainly did't have growing up. That was a design for survival perhaps, its the best I can say about that, except when visiting Ireland and my love Irish grandmother, who just personified love. I went to loys meetings. Was really fortunate to have the help of MU and the Grammy Foundation get me into an amazing rehab, where I learned more about myself than, I could have imagined. Rigorous honesty is one of the cornerstones of the program. Anonymity as to who you see in meetings and what you've heard them say, I absolutely uphold. Anonymity is not a legal right. But what do you do when a man, who professes to have over 19 years of sobriety and is proud of that and that he goes to meetings regularly, lies to you when he sells you a vehicle. Yes, Jim Simpson of Jim Simpson Llc who sells you his fathers pick up truck and lies to you, and does not disclose the full extenet of problems with the vehicle. I am confused as to how you can be rigorously honest, and not be?? An ex sponsor, Angel Schwartz allowed me to stay with her; for a fortunately very short while; when I was homeless. I did a huge amount of preparation and helped her considerably in painting a mural on Hollywood Boulevard at the Horse Carriage Museum. And had to endure Rush Limbaugh every day for ages. I did not paint the brilliant images she did, howwever, I did paint the fence, the foliage and flowers at the bottom quater of the painting. My name was credited "Assisted by Ann Munday". Excited to show a long term friend and brilliant songwriter of some of my artistic endeavour we drove north on Hollywood and stopped. Fortunately the gate was open, so we could go straight up and stand in front of it. My "Assisted by" has been painted out. Why would someone do that? And I have not forgotten the man who at a meeting, described a gang rape as a party prank. So I think I still stick to my 12 step program and my design for living, and continue to be as rigorously honestly honest as I can be.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
What is a friend? And my trip to the UK.
I returned last Sunday from a little over 3 weeks visit to my brother Darren, my lovely sister in law/great friend, Becky and their gorgeous and growing sons, Ben and Luke.
I looked after both of them in 2005, the last time I visited the UK, and boy did I get tired trying to keep the two of them amused and not fighting with each other. The simple trick was to make them laugh and doing something all of the time (treasure hunts, hide and seek, you name it, I did it and don't ask me how many times I watched Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (!) or Star Wars either (!), and me on the trampoline did that very easily, since I simply could not master it.
Back to my trip. 3 days after I arrived, I found myself up at 7 am in the morning (oh why can they not at least prescribe rohypnol - yes, the date rate drug for travelling different time zones, which I used to use when I travelled so much, because it would give me good sleep and I would wake up totally acclimatised to my new time zone and prevent me from falling asleep while in a meeting or worse still, listening to a songwriter's new song, he'd waited ages for my visit to play to me!) to let out the ducks and chickens.
Becky and family's home is a wonderful 200 + year old cottage, which has been put together from a series of smaller ones and is long and huge, however, welcoming and homely and elegant. She has an uncanny ability to do that no matter what sized house they have lived in over the years. And I have to look back at the time when I did have a home, and without being arrogant (I hope) say I could do the same.
Anyway, first to the ducks and chickens. So I get up at 7 am on the first Monday morning (they'd left for their French skiing trip much earlier than that) with the aid of an alarm clock, and guess what, it's raining! On with the wellington boots. My nephew Ben's fitted me, fortunately. And out to the enclosure at the bottom of the garden, which is now very muddy. No problem feed and water them. Now to the hour of 6pm I have been given to get them all back in their coop. Well, you would have had to laugh at me running around and around the coop chasing the ducks in particular, to go back into that coop. Oh, and I had to collect eggs. Did startle a few chickens sitting on some. One poor duck, Mother Goose, only has one eye, which I had not noticed and in the end I had to pick her up and put her in. No problem for me. As a child I spent the happiest weeks (every school vacation until my father remarried and evil step mother 1 stopped me seeing any of my mother's family) of a mostly sad childhood in Liscarroll, a tiny village in County Cork on a small farm, so had no fear of either ducks or chickens. Although I do remember my lovely Irish grandmother (a source of unconditional love) chasing me around once pulling on the sinews of a chicken's claw.
Anyway, one evening about 4 days into the chasing around, I was a little late and lo and behold, the ducks and chickens repair to their various coops (the small black fluff ball chickens had their own) all by themselves!!!! Approaching dusk and the scent of foxes wafting in the air send them to safety by themselves. So at least, I am now only having to make sure they have water at night and not feel an idiot chasing them around and around, and to the 7 am opening up and feeding and watering. There was one aggressive rooster, which if he did not retreat when I walked into him, simply had water poured on his head, which did the trick. I did have to remember the two rabbits as well, however, they never came out.
Sadly, on the Monday I learned via email, that one of my best friends, Tom (my copyright manager and right hand at Chrysalis Music Group USA, where I was Senior VP) in 1983 (I apparently continued the interview that started in the office, in my hotel room and he remembers having to pass me bras and things (he also came shopping with me whenever I did that, and shopping is something I hate and he laughed at being in Norma Kamalis at the attendant coming up to him and asking him if he was looking for something in particular - he was well over 6'!) had died of meningitis and I was truly devastated. Apparently, I went to one of the neighbours a walk away at the entrance to Swifts Farm, but I don't remember doing so.
Patricia and Chris were a very lovely couple I met while Becky and family were still there, and Patricia invited me to to Crufts with her. I had accepted her invitation with excitement, however, my ptsd and depression were not helping me much due to Tom's death, and in the end, although I would love to have attended, I simply couldn't.
The family also has a new Labrador puppy, Holly. Now anyone who knows Labradors, knows that as puppies they are a bundle of mischief and prone to biting anything they can get hold of. Normally, she is left in her room during the day and my brother comes home at lunch time to feed her, but I simply couldn't do that to her, so she was a constant companion and not at all any help when I was trying to paint. Something I had planned to do a lot of! And that was a little bit of a shame as it was all so very beautiful, deep in the Oxfordshire countryside and with a peacock from next door pig farm, who'd pop over.
However, Holly and I had many games of soccer, and she liked to keep two balls in play, one very deflated one and one not so. Got me a bit fitter, wich I had hoped to do and give up smoking as well. I cannot blame Tom's death for my not doing so, but I am afraid I did not live up to my own expectations, although I did cut back considerably.
I consider it a privilege anyway, that Holly trusted me right from the beginning and was very happy being with me.
The first Sunday, I had lunch with two FRIENDS, David Hitchcock and Teri Anderson. Teri I had seen on my 60th, when we went to see the Zombies together, and caught Spencer Davis )I can still remember him sitting in my office at Chrysalis; and my head going, "that's Spencer Davis sitting there" several times; and another UK band from my 20s, which I can't remember, however, with new blood gave a great show. I have not seen David since the mid 90s and it was good to see him and I am happy that he is happily married, and has two great daughters, he loves and who love him. Now he is a great friend as is Teri, and I pray that her chemo will get rid of the cancer found quite by accident and a very rare one. However, they found it early and still extremely small and she's not worrying about it.
We had intended to go to a pub in the village Becky, Darren and family used to live in, in the tiny village of Launton, one I have a photo of to paint at some point, but you had to book and it was completely full. The pub we chose was not that great, however, when you're with friends, it really doesn't matter.
My uncle and my second stepmother showed up on the Tuesday, which I hadn't quite planned on, however, it was good to see them.
Sleep, beautiful sleep. I was not at all afraid of being there alone. Have never been afraid of being anywhere alone (well there was one period, but that's another story) and I just had great sleep through the night for the entire 3 weeks and 2 days I spent there.
Monday, Feb 25th arrived and so did Becky, Darren, Becky's Dad, Roger and Ben and Luke back from their skiing.
So now I am off to watch Luke play soccer at his school (he's only 7 and already training with Reading FC one night a week) and I thought my butt would freeze off! And very oddly, I turned during the tea after the game and said hello to a young woman and her daughter. Somehow, it came up that we are both of Irish heritage and she also has one pointed ear and one round ear as I have. I call mine the leprechaun side of me. I've never met anyone else throughout the many years I have now lived who've also had one pointed and one round ears.
Have to say that there was a lot of soccer watching going on when everyone came home, which reminded me very much of my childhood. Also my visits to my Dad from the US, when I wondered why on earth I'd gone to visit him, if he was going to sit and watch either soccer or a war film!
Becky and I both love gardening and come Friday, we're off to the garden centre together, and buy loads of plants including a Mimosa, which is currently sitting in the dining room as you cannot plant them until all danger of frost is past. We kept forgetting how tall it was and of course instead of making it our last purchase, we grabbed it as soon as we saw it, and then had to watch for its height the rest of the buying trip!
Saturday arrives, and Darren has kindly arranged a family gathering, and really, really wonderful aside from seeing my lovely remaining Aunt Jacqueline and her husband, Uncle Doug, my cousin Karen and her husband, Stephen (always good for an interesting political conversation, although that wasn't the time for one), my love Irish cousin, Liam and his beautiful wife, Margaret. This was great, however, the huge bonus was that I got to see my father's best friend, Chris Button and his two lovely daughters, Sasha and Sarah. Such a wonderful man, and a good FRIEND to me. Sadly, his lovely wife Gaye was not well, however, we have been back in contact by email since then. So I am back in touch with a lovely friend and his family. And Becky's Dad, Roger (who hates such gatherings) is so good to me, that despite his not wanting to at all, he shows up too. Another FRIEND.
So why have I called this "what is a friend". Well, Becky and I were talking one evening and I have been having trouble with someone I have known almost since I move to the US way back in 1978. And I was talking to her about him and the fact that he recommended the awful lawyer, who did such a poor job in representing me in a car accident on Sept 9, 2008 at 1:25pm on Beverly Boulevard at the lights at Curson, when Craig Ferguson's wife, Megan Cunningham Ferguson crashes into me while I am waiting at the red light. I am turned so I am looking to the right where the traffic light is, and since then not a day goes by that I am not in pain with my neck and right shoulder. Megan (a lovely woman) walks towards me with cell phone in hand, apologising over and over again, and tells me that her brakes failed. It did not feel that her brakes had failed, rather more, that she had driven full speed at me. It was a terrific impact, however, I see no reason for her to lie about her brakes.
There was a funny anecdote. We were occupying the middle lane, with two lanes to our right and one very rude driver going past told us to get out of the road, as we're blocking traffic. Which considering that's exactly what he was doing by stopping to tell us to get out of the road, is ironic to say the least. I told him what I thought of him and that he should just move on and get away from us.
Being British, I was not immediately on the phone to a lawyer, and I expect through shock, when the Farmer's representative is immediately on the phone to me early the very next morning, I tell her I am fine (that's also a British habit), and I ask how Megan is? Very clever of Farmers Insurance. [As an aside, they have insured my brother for 28 years and me for 12, and that I am still with them is because their agent Stephen Pohl is a decent human being. I wish all the people suing Farmers Insurance, including the class action suit by The Mormons, much good fortune in winning against them.]
But, as time went by, the pain came. The entire back of my volvo station wagon is caved in, I have seen my boyfriend thrown forward and his hands slamming on the glove compartment. My beautiful german shepherd, Anita is in the back and to this day, I cannot forgive myself for not taking her to the vets. I have to wonder if that accident accelerated her degenerative spinal disease, and I had to have her euthanised last year, which is one of the saddest momenst of my life. She was my FRIEND. We knew each other. I could lay my head on her body and receive comfort.
But my pain does come and I have whiplash damage, sciatic nerve damage and a body wracked with pain. So I ask the aforementioned friend for a recommendation and he gives me one.
I go to see her. I am still in shock, and she seems pleasant, a bit gaudily dressed for my taste and very opiniated, and who I would normally refer to as a rather silly woman.
2008 passes, I've seen the unpleasant orthodpedic surgeon she has instructed me to. He recommends a course of chiroprator's treatment. Fortunately, I have an amazing chiroprator Dr Robert Pohomac of MaxWellness, and he does manage to do some work on my lumbar region.
Not to go into the whole long drawn out case again, this woman lawyer has told me one thing after another, recommened one defence after another, but changed her mind and basically has done nothing. She tells me in October of 2009 that she is going to file the complaint by the end of the year. She does not. So I get forced into mediation (Craig Ferguson does not want his wife to appear in court and she is pregnant, so I feel for her), which finally occurs in October 2010, or face a trial sometime in 2011. I am warned by my attorney that I am not likely to win, because Farmers have blamed my injuries on my age. I am not sure how you get whiplash, brachial plexus damage with age, nor pain running down the right shoulder.
So back to my title "What is a friend". I speak with the lawyer, my "friend" who has recommended the woman, and he agrees that she has filed late. He offers to speak with the senior partner of the firm representing Farmers and Megan before the mediation, but is lectured by her. And I get lectured too for not trusting her. Well, I am sorry, by that stage, I do not.
Sadly, however, when I email my lawyer "friend" that I am considering reporting my lawyer to the bar, he is on her side and tells me to just move on. You try "moving on" when you are in pain every day. I have the determination to learn the Alexander Technique, I sleep with my neck over a pillow, with my neck going in the opposite direction to that which is was thrown in and that helps a bit. I use a neck brace for work at the computer. I walk.
So now I am back to my conversation with Becky about what a friend is, and she hits the nail on the head and answers the query that has been running through my mind since my "friend's" response, "move on". A friend is someone you can depend on and trust, and I realise that sadly the friend I used to rely on and trust, no longer deserves my trust. He's lost it.
Ending on a more positive note, I made a new friend in the UK, my sister in law, Becky's trainer Peter Michael Dedes. He is a physical trainer and I immediately knew I could trust him and depend on him.
Franca Cavarricci, despite her own many and tremendous difficulties due to the disgusting behaviour of her ex partner and business partner, who I used to respect, but do not any longer, is another. I have tremendous admiration for her managing to get through a truly horrific time and that she does this every day. She adoes her two daughters, Alanna and Sidney, who are a wonderful testamont to her as a mother. I met her when she was a successful business manager having formed her own business management company, which was stolen away from her.
And I end with the end of my UK trip on March 13, which was a sad parting for me, aside from the horrible hour I have to get up!
We all have dinner at an Indian restaurant on the Friday and Luke has me in hysterics, taking photographs of four of us, as he keeps moving forward each time he goes to press the button!
On Satuday, I go and watch Ben play soccer and watch him run like a gazelle (both he and my niece, Vanessa have that same ability) and I learn that he's a wizard at corner kicks. He is able to curve the ball around the goal post. That morning it was not cold, and I did not freeze, and met some nice other parents. I make the mistake of telling one of the fathers that I used to know George Best well, and he immediately asked me if I had slept with him. I had to laugh, and Becky and I compared notes on how so little has changed for women in the nearly 40 years since I joined the music business and was forever being spoken about that I had slept with everyone to get to the top. Nearly made the News of The World once, which I thought was very funny, but then didn't, as I thought my Dad won't like that! Becky still experiences much of the same I did throughout my career.
Darren gets me to the airport in good time. I am pre-checked in (American Airlines, my favourite), so we have a little more time together. I have to have a starbucks, and then suddenly find that I am late for my plane and it's closing. Just as well I had played soccer with Holly, otherwise I would not have made it! I leave my wallet in the airport. Fortuantely LAX is much more efficient than LAX Lost and Found, who although I have emailed them and told them exactly where I left my cell phone, have not responded.
I looked after both of them in 2005, the last time I visited the UK, and boy did I get tired trying to keep the two of them amused and not fighting with each other. The simple trick was to make them laugh and doing something all of the time (treasure hunts, hide and seek, you name it, I did it and don't ask me how many times I watched Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (!) or Star Wars either (!), and me on the trampoline did that very easily, since I simply could not master it.
Back to my trip. 3 days after I arrived, I found myself up at 7 am in the morning (oh why can they not at least prescribe rohypnol - yes, the date rate drug for travelling different time zones, which I used to use when I travelled so much, because it would give me good sleep and I would wake up totally acclimatised to my new time zone and prevent me from falling asleep while in a meeting or worse still, listening to a songwriter's new song, he'd waited ages for my visit to play to me!) to let out the ducks and chickens.
Becky and family's home is a wonderful 200 + year old cottage, which has been put together from a series of smaller ones and is long and huge, however, welcoming and homely and elegant. She has an uncanny ability to do that no matter what sized house they have lived in over the years. And I have to look back at the time when I did have a home, and without being arrogant (I hope) say I could do the same.
Anyway, first to the ducks and chickens. So I get up at 7 am on the first Monday morning (they'd left for their French skiing trip much earlier than that) with the aid of an alarm clock, and guess what, it's raining! On with the wellington boots. My nephew Ben's fitted me, fortunately. And out to the enclosure at the bottom of the garden, which is now very muddy. No problem feed and water them. Now to the hour of 6pm I have been given to get them all back in their coop. Well, you would have had to laugh at me running around and around the coop chasing the ducks in particular, to go back into that coop. Oh, and I had to collect eggs. Did startle a few chickens sitting on some. One poor duck, Mother Goose, only has one eye, which I had not noticed and in the end I had to pick her up and put her in. No problem for me. As a child I spent the happiest weeks (every school vacation until my father remarried and evil step mother 1 stopped me seeing any of my mother's family) of a mostly sad childhood in Liscarroll, a tiny village in County Cork on a small farm, so had no fear of either ducks or chickens. Although I do remember my lovely Irish grandmother (a source of unconditional love) chasing me around once pulling on the sinews of a chicken's claw.
Anyway, one evening about 4 days into the chasing around, I was a little late and lo and behold, the ducks and chickens repair to their various coops (the small black fluff ball chickens had their own) all by themselves!!!! Approaching dusk and the scent of foxes wafting in the air send them to safety by themselves. So at least, I am now only having to make sure they have water at night and not feel an idiot chasing them around and around, and to the 7 am opening up and feeding and watering. There was one aggressive rooster, which if he did not retreat when I walked into him, simply had water poured on his head, which did the trick. I did have to remember the two rabbits as well, however, they never came out.
Sadly, on the Monday I learned via email, that one of my best friends, Tom (my copyright manager and right hand at Chrysalis Music Group USA, where I was Senior VP) in 1983 (I apparently continued the interview that started in the office, in my hotel room and he remembers having to pass me bras and things (he also came shopping with me whenever I did that, and shopping is something I hate and he laughed at being in Norma Kamalis at the attendant coming up to him and asking him if he was looking for something in particular - he was well over 6'!) had died of meningitis and I was truly devastated. Apparently, I went to one of the neighbours a walk away at the entrance to Swifts Farm, but I don't remember doing so.
Patricia and Chris were a very lovely couple I met while Becky and family were still there, and Patricia invited me to to Crufts with her. I had accepted her invitation with excitement, however, my ptsd and depression were not helping me much due to Tom's death, and in the end, although I would love to have attended, I simply couldn't.
The family also has a new Labrador puppy, Holly. Now anyone who knows Labradors, knows that as puppies they are a bundle of mischief and prone to biting anything they can get hold of. Normally, she is left in her room during the day and my brother comes home at lunch time to feed her, but I simply couldn't do that to her, so she was a constant companion and not at all any help when I was trying to paint. Something I had planned to do a lot of! And that was a little bit of a shame as it was all so very beautiful, deep in the Oxfordshire countryside and with a peacock from next door pig farm, who'd pop over.
However, Holly and I had many games of soccer, and she liked to keep two balls in play, one very deflated one and one not so. Got me a bit fitter, wich I had hoped to do and give up smoking as well. I cannot blame Tom's death for my not doing so, but I am afraid I did not live up to my own expectations, although I did cut back considerably.
I consider it a privilege anyway, that Holly trusted me right from the beginning and was very happy being with me.
The first Sunday, I had lunch with two FRIENDS, David Hitchcock and Teri Anderson. Teri I had seen on my 60th, when we went to see the Zombies together, and caught Spencer Davis )I can still remember him sitting in my office at Chrysalis; and my head going, "that's Spencer Davis sitting there" several times; and another UK band from my 20s, which I can't remember, however, with new blood gave a great show. I have not seen David since the mid 90s and it was good to see him and I am happy that he is happily married, and has two great daughters, he loves and who love him. Now he is a great friend as is Teri, and I pray that her chemo will get rid of the cancer found quite by accident and a very rare one. However, they found it early and still extremely small and she's not worrying about it.
We had intended to go to a pub in the village Becky, Darren and family used to live in, in the tiny village of Launton, one I have a photo of to paint at some point, but you had to book and it was completely full. The pub we chose was not that great, however, when you're with friends, it really doesn't matter.
My uncle and my second stepmother showed up on the Tuesday, which I hadn't quite planned on, however, it was good to see them.
Sleep, beautiful sleep. I was not at all afraid of being there alone. Have never been afraid of being anywhere alone (well there was one period, but that's another story) and I just had great sleep through the night for the entire 3 weeks and 2 days I spent there.
Monday, Feb 25th arrived and so did Becky, Darren, Becky's Dad, Roger and Ben and Luke back from their skiing.
So now I am off to watch Luke play soccer at his school (he's only 7 and already training with Reading FC one night a week) and I thought my butt would freeze off! And very oddly, I turned during the tea after the game and said hello to a young woman and her daughter. Somehow, it came up that we are both of Irish heritage and she also has one pointed ear and one round ear as I have. I call mine the leprechaun side of me. I've never met anyone else throughout the many years I have now lived who've also had one pointed and one round ears.
Have to say that there was a lot of soccer watching going on when everyone came home, which reminded me very much of my childhood. Also my visits to my Dad from the US, when I wondered why on earth I'd gone to visit him, if he was going to sit and watch either soccer or a war film!
Becky and I both love gardening and come Friday, we're off to the garden centre together, and buy loads of plants including a Mimosa, which is currently sitting in the dining room as you cannot plant them until all danger of frost is past. We kept forgetting how tall it was and of course instead of making it our last purchase, we grabbed it as soon as we saw it, and then had to watch for its height the rest of the buying trip!
Saturday arrives, and Darren has kindly arranged a family gathering, and really, really wonderful aside from seeing my lovely remaining Aunt Jacqueline and her husband, Uncle Doug, my cousin Karen and her husband, Stephen (always good for an interesting political conversation, although that wasn't the time for one), my love Irish cousin, Liam and his beautiful wife, Margaret. This was great, however, the huge bonus was that I got to see my father's best friend, Chris Button and his two lovely daughters, Sasha and Sarah. Such a wonderful man, and a good FRIEND to me. Sadly, his lovely wife Gaye was not well, however, we have been back in contact by email since then. So I am back in touch with a lovely friend and his family. And Becky's Dad, Roger (who hates such gatherings) is so good to me, that despite his not wanting to at all, he shows up too. Another FRIEND.
So why have I called this "what is a friend". Well, Becky and I were talking one evening and I have been having trouble with someone I have known almost since I move to the US way back in 1978. And I was talking to her about him and the fact that he recommended the awful lawyer, who did such a poor job in representing me in a car accident on Sept 9, 2008 at 1:25pm on Beverly Boulevard at the lights at Curson, when Craig Ferguson's wife, Megan Cunningham Ferguson crashes into me while I am waiting at the red light. I am turned so I am looking to the right where the traffic light is, and since then not a day goes by that I am not in pain with my neck and right shoulder. Megan (a lovely woman) walks towards me with cell phone in hand, apologising over and over again, and tells me that her brakes failed. It did not feel that her brakes had failed, rather more, that she had driven full speed at me. It was a terrific impact, however, I see no reason for her to lie about her brakes.
There was a funny anecdote. We were occupying the middle lane, with two lanes to our right and one very rude driver going past told us to get out of the road, as we're blocking traffic. Which considering that's exactly what he was doing by stopping to tell us to get out of the road, is ironic to say the least. I told him what I thought of him and that he should just move on and get away from us.
Being British, I was not immediately on the phone to a lawyer, and I expect through shock, when the Farmer's representative is immediately on the phone to me early the very next morning, I tell her I am fine (that's also a British habit), and I ask how Megan is? Very clever of Farmers Insurance. [As an aside, they have insured my brother for 28 years and me for 12, and that I am still with them is because their agent Stephen Pohl is a decent human being. I wish all the people suing Farmers Insurance, including the class action suit by The Mormons, much good fortune in winning against them.]
But, as time went by, the pain came. The entire back of my volvo station wagon is caved in, I have seen my boyfriend thrown forward and his hands slamming on the glove compartment. My beautiful german shepherd, Anita is in the back and to this day, I cannot forgive myself for not taking her to the vets. I have to wonder if that accident accelerated her degenerative spinal disease, and I had to have her euthanised last year, which is one of the saddest momenst of my life. She was my FRIEND. We knew each other. I could lay my head on her body and receive comfort.
But my pain does come and I have whiplash damage, sciatic nerve damage and a body wracked with pain. So I ask the aforementioned friend for a recommendation and he gives me one.
I go to see her. I am still in shock, and she seems pleasant, a bit gaudily dressed for my taste and very opiniated, and who I would normally refer to as a rather silly woman.
2008 passes, I've seen the unpleasant orthodpedic surgeon she has instructed me to. He recommends a course of chiroprator's treatment. Fortunately, I have an amazing chiroprator Dr Robert Pohomac of MaxWellness, and he does manage to do some work on my lumbar region.
Not to go into the whole long drawn out case again, this woman lawyer has told me one thing after another, recommened one defence after another, but changed her mind and basically has done nothing. She tells me in October of 2009 that she is going to file the complaint by the end of the year. She does not. So I get forced into mediation (Craig Ferguson does not want his wife to appear in court and she is pregnant, so I feel for her), which finally occurs in October 2010, or face a trial sometime in 2011. I am warned by my attorney that I am not likely to win, because Farmers have blamed my injuries on my age. I am not sure how you get whiplash, brachial plexus damage with age, nor pain running down the right shoulder.
So back to my title "What is a friend". I speak with the lawyer, my "friend" who has recommended the woman, and he agrees that she has filed late. He offers to speak with the senior partner of the firm representing Farmers and Megan before the mediation, but is lectured by her. And I get lectured too for not trusting her. Well, I am sorry, by that stage, I do not.
Sadly, however, when I email my lawyer "friend" that I am considering reporting my lawyer to the bar, he is on her side and tells me to just move on. You try "moving on" when you are in pain every day. I have the determination to learn the Alexander Technique, I sleep with my neck over a pillow, with my neck going in the opposite direction to that which is was thrown in and that helps a bit. I use a neck brace for work at the computer. I walk.
So now I am back to my conversation with Becky about what a friend is, and she hits the nail on the head and answers the query that has been running through my mind since my "friend's" response, "move on". A friend is someone you can depend on and trust, and I realise that sadly the friend I used to rely on and trust, no longer deserves my trust. He's lost it.
Ending on a more positive note, I made a new friend in the UK, my sister in law, Becky's trainer Peter Michael Dedes. He is a physical trainer and I immediately knew I could trust him and depend on him.
Franca Cavarricci, despite her own many and tremendous difficulties due to the disgusting behaviour of her ex partner and business partner, who I used to respect, but do not any longer, is another. I have tremendous admiration for her managing to get through a truly horrific time and that she does this every day. She adoes her two daughters, Alanna and Sidney, who are a wonderful testamont to her as a mother. I met her when she was a successful business manager having formed her own business management company, which was stolen away from her.
And I end with the end of my UK trip on March 13, which was a sad parting for me, aside from the horrible hour I have to get up!
We all have dinner at an Indian restaurant on the Friday and Luke has me in hysterics, taking photographs of four of us, as he keeps moving forward each time he goes to press the button!
On Satuday, I go and watch Ben play soccer and watch him run like a gazelle (both he and my niece, Vanessa have that same ability) and I learn that he's a wizard at corner kicks. He is able to curve the ball around the goal post. That morning it was not cold, and I did not freeze, and met some nice other parents. I make the mistake of telling one of the fathers that I used to know George Best well, and he immediately asked me if I had slept with him. I had to laugh, and Becky and I compared notes on how so little has changed for women in the nearly 40 years since I joined the music business and was forever being spoken about that I had slept with everyone to get to the top. Nearly made the News of The World once, which I thought was very funny, but then didn't, as I thought my Dad won't like that! Becky still experiences much of the same I did throughout my career.
Darren gets me to the airport in good time. I am pre-checked in (American Airlines, my favourite), so we have a little more time together. I have to have a starbucks, and then suddenly find that I am late for my plane and it's closing. Just as well I had played soccer with Holly, otherwise I would not have made it! I leave my wallet in the airport. Fortuantely LAX is much more efficient than LAX Lost and Found, who although I have emailed them and told them exactly where I left my cell phone, have not responded.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Life is sometimes just sad and relationships don't work out
and there's no rhyme or reason.
Relationships just don't work out - neither person at fault. Each brought a mountain of abuse; emotional and physical; and either they could heal each others hurts and pains or they could simply make them worse.
Sadly they love each other, but each have triggers that provoke anger.. One person's anger is vented phsycially, the others passive aggressively. Neither loving actions. And each causing both the recipient and the agressor deep pain, regret and anger at themselves.
Such deep sadness and despair that something so loving to begin with, has been torn to pieces and is in tatters, with neither person know what to do or where to go next.
Escape is perhaps the only alternative.
And the memories of the glorious beginning, will be glory again and laughter and giggles will triumph.
Relationships just don't work out - neither person at fault. Each brought a mountain of abuse; emotional and physical; and either they could heal each others hurts and pains or they could simply make them worse.
Sadly they love each other, but each have triggers that provoke anger.. One person's anger is vented phsycially, the others passive aggressively. Neither loving actions. And each causing both the recipient and the agressor deep pain, regret and anger at themselves.
Such deep sadness and despair that something so loving to begin with, has been torn to pieces and is in tatters, with neither person know what to do or where to go next.
Escape is perhaps the only alternative.
And the memories of the glorious beginning, will be glory again and laughter and giggles will triumph.
Monday, February 14, 2011
PCs being a nuisance and Franca's blog on losing friends
I have changed something on my laptop, which of course, not knowing precisely what I am doing stops me every time I try to read my lovely friend Franca's latest blog and respond to it.
So I shall do it this way.
Franca writes of friends' deaths. And as is usual, it is an excellent read.
I am a pack rat and have most of my old address books, and when searching for a number or address, find friends who have died. In some way, I do not mind, because they bring back memory of that friend.
My father died 20 years ago this May and yet I see him flying above LA in the Tiger Moth a friend owned and took him up for a ride in, when Dad was over for my brother, David's wedding.
I am also a fan of Kahill Gibrain, although I have only read The Prophet, which I love.
Quoting from "Death" he wrote:
For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?
And what is to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?
Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.
And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.
And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.
This being Valentine's Day, my very favourite on marriage or a partnership is, (again from The Prophet)
"But let there be spaces in your togetherness, And let the winds of the heavens dance between you. Love one another, but make not a bond of love. Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls. Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup. Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf. Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each of you be alone, Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music. Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping. For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts. And stand together, yet not too near together. For the pillars of the temple stand apart, And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow."
So I shall do it this way.
Franca writes of friends' deaths. And as is usual, it is an excellent read.
I am a pack rat and have most of my old address books, and when searching for a number or address, find friends who have died. In some way, I do not mind, because they bring back memory of that friend.
My father died 20 years ago this May and yet I see him flying above LA in the Tiger Moth a friend owned and took him up for a ride in, when Dad was over for my brother, David's wedding.
I am also a fan of Kahill Gibrain, although I have only read The Prophet, which I love.
Quoting from "Death" he wrote:
For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?
And what is to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?
Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.
And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.
And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.
This being Valentine's Day, my very favourite on marriage or a partnership is, (again from The Prophet)
"But let there be spaces in your togetherness, And let the winds of the heavens dance between you. Love one another, but make not a bond of love. Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls. Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup. Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf. Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each of you be alone, Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music. Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping. For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts. And stand together, yet not too near together. For the pillars of the temple stand apart, And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow."
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Trying to get ready to visit the UK for the first time in 6 years
and thinking of all the things I have to do still!!
And so many of them are priorities - so how does that happen - procrastination and depression.
I have to help my lovely friend, Franca, who is helping me with back taxes, which have got into a state because of my mental challenges, by giving her info to help her help me! And with ptsd, my memory is not as good as it once famously was. Although perhaps the IRS will have a heart.
Get what remains of my belongings (not much after helping my brother through a dreadful custody battle - lost 90% of my furniture, including many antiques) out of storage and to a friend's garage in Palm Springs, who's kindly agreed that I can put them there, which will be a far more pleasant place than Price Self Storage.
Found rat feces in there one time and went to the desk to report that. One of the women on their staff at their possibly misnamed Help desk, actually suggested that I had brought them in! Yes, of course, I keep a whole pack of rats to just take wherever I want to!!! Fortunately, her supervisor was more sympathetic, but the feces are still in there!
What racket storage places are these days with so many people needing them because they've become homeless.
Although on the subject of rats, I once managed an act whose lead singer had a pet rat. The band was going to record at a studio, where they'd be staying for the period of recording and he asked me to phone the studio and ask their permission. Now, I had learned by that time that said rat was clean, lovable and clever, but didn't think it wise to ask a studio if we could bring one, so I told him to just take it!
Anyway, I shall be on my way in less than 2 weeks now to a beautiful old house in the Oxfordshire countryside, miles away from anything.
After 3 days of my arrival, my brother and his family will be going skiing (I must do this again sometime, although I do spend a lot of time on my butt!) and I shall be alone with a labrador puppy, ducks, chickens, rabbits and whatever other wild life live on their large piece of land.
This does include a swimming pool, however, a chilly swim is not something I am contemplating!
However, am looking forward to a week alone with time to paint, uninterrupted, except for a few friends, who'll drive to visit me there.
Intend to start on landscapes, particularly from my collection of photos taken in Tuscany. I have rather concentrated on my Whimsical Garden series, however, they are very time consuming and require minute details (just delivered a second one to doting grandparents, whose first grandchild, Lorelei now has a second one, which includes insects and rabbits and a Empire State building in the distance, which my friend tells me is a little large, however, if it had been any smaller, I am not sure anyone would recognise what it is!) and am looking forward to using a much more free style form.
I'll have to watch the weight of my baggage as my painting equipment is pretty heavy combined with books I want to take. So few clothes (my family will lend me some of theirs) as 90lbs limit doesn't allow you much.
And I know this well, having gone with my lovely niece, Vanessa to take her Dad to the airport (on his way to the UK) and found myself in front of other passengers frantically taking clothes (who'd think a man would pack so much!) and putting them on the scale to get that bag down to the required weight, while my niece and her Dad went off to buy another piece of luggage to put the clothing I had removed, in to.
A little concerned about being in an airport surrounded by people and will have my panic attack pills at hand.
And all this thinking of travelling and packing reminds me of the time when I could afford such luxuries of buying a large tapestry bag, which the salesperson had to help me carry to my car. Now that should have been a sign, you'd think! Intelligent woman running a company buys bag she can't carry without anything in it, and when she does pack it (before the days of limited weight) can't even move it off the bed! Only ever used it that one trip.
But the morning has now gone by 15 minutes. I haven't taken the walk I promised myself last night I would do first thing.
So adieu!
And so many of them are priorities - so how does that happen - procrastination and depression.
I have to help my lovely friend, Franca, who is helping me with back taxes, which have got into a state because of my mental challenges, by giving her info to help her help me! And with ptsd, my memory is not as good as it once famously was. Although perhaps the IRS will have a heart.
Get what remains of my belongings (not much after helping my brother through a dreadful custody battle - lost 90% of my furniture, including many antiques) out of storage and to a friend's garage in Palm Springs, who's kindly agreed that I can put them there, which will be a far more pleasant place than Price Self Storage.
Found rat feces in there one time and went to the desk to report that. One of the women on their staff at their possibly misnamed Help desk, actually suggested that I had brought them in! Yes, of course, I keep a whole pack of rats to just take wherever I want to!!! Fortunately, her supervisor was more sympathetic, but the feces are still in there!
What racket storage places are these days with so many people needing them because they've become homeless.
Although on the subject of rats, I once managed an act whose lead singer had a pet rat. The band was going to record at a studio, where they'd be staying for the period of recording and he asked me to phone the studio and ask their permission. Now, I had learned by that time that said rat was clean, lovable and clever, but didn't think it wise to ask a studio if we could bring one, so I told him to just take it!
Anyway, I shall be on my way in less than 2 weeks now to a beautiful old house in the Oxfordshire countryside, miles away from anything.
After 3 days of my arrival, my brother and his family will be going skiing (I must do this again sometime, although I do spend a lot of time on my butt!) and I shall be alone with a labrador puppy, ducks, chickens, rabbits and whatever other wild life live on their large piece of land.
This does include a swimming pool, however, a chilly swim is not something I am contemplating!
However, am looking forward to a week alone with time to paint, uninterrupted, except for a few friends, who'll drive to visit me there.
Intend to start on landscapes, particularly from my collection of photos taken in Tuscany. I have rather concentrated on my Whimsical Garden series, however, they are very time consuming and require minute details (just delivered a second one to doting grandparents, whose first grandchild, Lorelei now has a second one, which includes insects and rabbits and a Empire State building in the distance, which my friend tells me is a little large, however, if it had been any smaller, I am not sure anyone would recognise what it is!) and am looking forward to using a much more free style form.
I'll have to watch the weight of my baggage as my painting equipment is pretty heavy combined with books I want to take. So few clothes (my family will lend me some of theirs) as 90lbs limit doesn't allow you much.
And I know this well, having gone with my lovely niece, Vanessa to take her Dad to the airport (on his way to the UK) and found myself in front of other passengers frantically taking clothes (who'd think a man would pack so much!) and putting them on the scale to get that bag down to the required weight, while my niece and her Dad went off to buy another piece of luggage to put the clothing I had removed, in to.
A little concerned about being in an airport surrounded by people and will have my panic attack pills at hand.
And all this thinking of travelling and packing reminds me of the time when I could afford such luxuries of buying a large tapestry bag, which the salesperson had to help me carry to my car. Now that should have been a sign, you'd think! Intelligent woman running a company buys bag she can't carry without anything in it, and when she does pack it (before the days of limited weight) can't even move it off the bed! Only ever used it that one trip.
But the morning has now gone by 15 minutes. I haven't taken the walk I promised myself last night I would do first thing.
So adieu!
Saturday, January 22, 2011
The Hurt Locker, Eddie Izzard Sargent Shriver - and where it led my thoughts.
Know this film has been out for a while, however, couldn't watch it through the first time, but finally managed to.
As a caveat - while I am thrilled it was directed and produced by a woman, Kathryn Bigelow, I was disappointed to see very few women in the tech crew, or credit with anything else other than as PAs or make up. Why do so few successful women not help other women.
Anyway, back to the film.
Such an excellent production and really brought home to me, what soldiers truly go through when sent off to war.
For some reason I identified stronly with the lead character. Reminded me a little of my own defiance and how I dealt with the boys' club music business. Summon up the sinews and back into battle every day, however, always with my own brand of humour - laughing at myself. And unlike Ms. Bigelow, defending and supporting women whenever and wherever I could.
How anyone seeing this film could support war and sending men and women into harm's way everyday is beyond my comprehension.
Eddie Izzards stand up routines on war are one, very funny, however, more icrucially, his use of irony to show the futility of war. I have never believed war achieves any lasting good.
We send men and women daily into danger, backed, of course, by the arms manufactures. So we get back to Bush and Cheyney and the legacy they've left the US. I sincerely believe they should be indicted for war crimes against the American people.
How many men and women do we have now, who are suffering from going to war? How many men, women and children live in dire poverty. Whole families living in a motel room. Others in camper vans (as in the street where I live), an estimated 54% of the population living on food stamps. Others living on the street.
I do not, for one second, believe that the war against Iraq was necessary and the responsibility for the thousands that have been killed or maimed forever, lie at the feet of Cheyney and Bush.
As an aside, I met him once at a private dinner in Tortolla (British Virgin Islands), and found him to be a stupid person. While I had always been politically minded in the UK, I was naive to US politics at the time (he had just been the popular loser for a seat in the Sentate, I believe) and I asked him what he was going to do now - his response, not sure. How could anyone destined for a political life, not be sure about what he would do next! Any conversation with him was almost an impossibility, and I just ended up thinking, this is one stupid man - is that what politics in the US is all about (I had only been in the US nearly a year by the time I met him) and gave up trying to talk to him. Since I am pretty good at talking to anyone, including Thurgood Marshal, who I'd had the privilege of meeting when a woman friend was appointed a judge in California by Judge Rose Bird (?) inaugaration I had been invited to, a short time after I arrive in LA in 1978. Although I remember being far more interested in just listening to him. What an amazing man.
And back to Bush for a moment, his wife, Laura, was so much livelier and interesting and likeable, a woman you could respect.
Much better that the Peace Corp was formed and sad that Sargent Shriver, its founder recently died. God bless him. However, what an incredible legacy he left. Men and women who travel around the world to make a peaceful difference. Just a short quote from Wikipedia's info on him
"After the Kennedy Assasination, Shriver continued to serve as Director of the Peace Corps and served as Special Assitant to President Lyndon Johnson. Under Johnson, he created the Office of Econmic Opportunity with with William B. Mullins and served as its first Director. He is known as the "architect" of the Johnson's adminstrations's "War on Poverty". We definitely could do with him now!
"War on Poverty" is what will ultimately make a difference here and worldwide, and a heritage you could be proud of, not war, which leaves mutilated children and people behind to live out lives, with probably much bitterness against the US invasion. As well as the returning soldiers here, who are left with the nightmares of war they've experienced and how do they manage to overcome that? How do they learn to live a normal life again? How do they become a "normal" police man for instance?
I live in poverty, and I consider myself one of the fortunate ones. I have a roof over my head, and a bed to sleep in.
As a caveat - while I am thrilled it was directed and produced by a woman, Kathryn Bigelow, I was disappointed to see very few women in the tech crew, or credit with anything else other than as PAs or make up. Why do so few successful women not help other women.
Anyway, back to the film.
Such an excellent production and really brought home to me, what soldiers truly go through when sent off to war.
For some reason I identified stronly with the lead character. Reminded me a little of my own defiance and how I dealt with the boys' club music business. Summon up the sinews and back into battle every day, however, always with my own brand of humour - laughing at myself. And unlike Ms. Bigelow, defending and supporting women whenever and wherever I could.
How anyone seeing this film could support war and sending men and women into harm's way everyday is beyond my comprehension.
Eddie Izzards stand up routines on war are one, very funny, however, more icrucially, his use of irony to show the futility of war. I have never believed war achieves any lasting good.
We send men and women daily into danger, backed, of course, by the arms manufactures. So we get back to Bush and Cheyney and the legacy they've left the US. I sincerely believe they should be indicted for war crimes against the American people.
How many men and women do we have now, who are suffering from going to war? How many men, women and children live in dire poverty. Whole families living in a motel room. Others in camper vans (as in the street where I live), an estimated 54% of the population living on food stamps. Others living on the street.
I do not, for one second, believe that the war against Iraq was necessary and the responsibility for the thousands that have been killed or maimed forever, lie at the feet of Cheyney and Bush.
As an aside, I met him once at a private dinner in Tortolla (British Virgin Islands), and found him to be a stupid person. While I had always been politically minded in the UK, I was naive to US politics at the time (he had just been the popular loser for a seat in the Sentate, I believe) and I asked him what he was going to do now - his response, not sure. How could anyone destined for a political life, not be sure about what he would do next! Any conversation with him was almost an impossibility, and I just ended up thinking, this is one stupid man - is that what politics in the US is all about (I had only been in the US nearly a year by the time I met him) and gave up trying to talk to him. Since I am pretty good at talking to anyone, including Thurgood Marshal, who I'd had the privilege of meeting when a woman friend was appointed a judge in California by Judge Rose Bird (?) inaugaration I had been invited to, a short time after I arrive in LA in 1978. Although I remember being far more interested in just listening to him. What an amazing man.
And back to Bush for a moment, his wife, Laura, was so much livelier and interesting and likeable, a woman you could respect.
Much better that the Peace Corp was formed and sad that Sargent Shriver, its founder recently died. God bless him. However, what an incredible legacy he left. Men and women who travel around the world to make a peaceful difference. Just a short quote from Wikipedia's info on him
"After the Kennedy Assasination, Shriver continued to serve as Director of the Peace Corps and served as Special Assitant to President Lyndon Johnson. Under Johnson, he created the Office of Econmic Opportunity with with William B. Mullins and served as its first Director. He is known as the "architect" of the Johnson's adminstrations's "War on Poverty". We definitely could do with him now!
"War on Poverty" is what will ultimately make a difference here and worldwide, and a heritage you could be proud of, not war, which leaves mutilated children and people behind to live out lives, with probably much bitterness against the US invasion. As well as the returning soldiers here, who are left with the nightmares of war they've experienced and how do they manage to overcome that? How do they learn to live a normal life again? How do they become a "normal" police man for instance?
I live in poverty, and I consider myself one of the fortunate ones. I have a roof over my head, and a bed to sleep in.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
To be or not to be
in a relationship with a man who I love very much, and who has similar mental disabilities to mine. But who has never learned how to love, or how to be responsible in a relationship.
And so much to do and wondering where on earth to start.
If I had known in 1997 that my returning to Los Angeles would end with me being surrounded by devastation as well as feeling devastated and such emotional pain, I am not sure that I would have turned down the job of running a UK publishing company, and selling a home to help him and his two daughters. And now none of them speak to me anymore and I have just been discarded - no more use for me!
I went downhill from being a well respected music executive, who as a woman had succeeded in pushing the boundaries in a male dominated business [Was the first women nominated for the ASCAP Board of Directors. Was offered the job of starting the publishing companies for Nonesuch, Asylum and Electra by Joe Smith, who personally called me to arrange our meeting, but I turned it down out of loyalty to Chrsysalis, a company, who in the end cheated me out of having shares when they went public. Turned down interviewing for running Rondor Music, because I believed my friend, Lance Freed should get the job.], to living in one room, with what's left of my belongings in storage.
I just want to curl up and go back to sleep and wake up and all is sorted, but that won't work, so I'll just "summon up the sinews" (Shakespeare - did learn something at school!) and just do a bit at a time.
I do have a special treat to look forward to, however, and perhaps I should just think of that while I doggedly get through the muddle, and that's going to spend three weeks with my other brother, and his lovely wife, Becky (who actually knows who I am and respects me) and my great nephews, Ben and Luke.
And my friend Franca has just called me and made me laugh and allowed me to cry. So on with my day, which has to start with my least favorite job of being a struggling watercolor painter, and that's matt paintings I've sold, and some I've promised as gifts.
So I'll be.
And so much to do and wondering where on earth to start.
If I had known in 1997 that my returning to Los Angeles would end with me being surrounded by devastation as well as feeling devastated and such emotional pain, I am not sure that I would have turned down the job of running a UK publishing company, and selling a home to help him and his two daughters. And now none of them speak to me anymore and I have just been discarded - no more use for me!
I went downhill from being a well respected music executive, who as a woman had succeeded in pushing the boundaries in a male dominated business [Was the first women nominated for the ASCAP Board of Directors. Was offered the job of starting the publishing companies for Nonesuch, Asylum and Electra by Joe Smith, who personally called me to arrange our meeting, but I turned it down out of loyalty to Chrsysalis, a company, who in the end cheated me out of having shares when they went public. Turned down interviewing for running Rondor Music, because I believed my friend, Lance Freed should get the job.], to living in one room, with what's left of my belongings in storage.
I just want to curl up and go back to sleep and wake up and all is sorted, but that won't work, so I'll just "summon up the sinews" (Shakespeare - did learn something at school!) and just do a bit at a time.
I do have a special treat to look forward to, however, and perhaps I should just think of that while I doggedly get through the muddle, and that's going to spend three weeks with my other brother, and his lovely wife, Becky (who actually knows who I am and respects me) and my great nephews, Ben and Luke.
And my friend Franca has just called me and made me laugh and allowed me to cry. So on with my day, which has to start with my least favorite job of being a struggling watercolor painter, and that's matt paintings I've sold, and some I've promised as gifts.
So I'll be.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)