That could be me...

I walk by your office every day of the week.  I make multiple trips because I have no home.  I sometimes sit outside of the post office just to pass the time.  I normally have on blue jeans or dark brown pants and a t-shirt.  My tennis shoes are very worn in.  I wear my dark green winter coat no matter what the weather is because I have no where to keep it.  Should the weather change, I'm prepared.  I don't really have a home.  I almost always have a drink with me and sometimes smoke a cigarette.  I occasionally shield my face from your glares and stares or I put my hood up because I'm embarrassed and ashamed of my situation.  I don't want you to look at me.  Please don't try to talk to me because I don't want your help.  I don't need your help.  I don't want your attention.  I'm a human being and not some freak.  I'm too proud to accept your assistance.  Please just leave me be. 

You see me in the bank on almost a daily basis.  I drive a really nice car but my clothes and hair are dirty.  I smell of cigarette smoke and body odor and filth.  My jeans are men's jeans and are 3 sizes too big for me.  I have to wear a belt pulled really tight to keep them up and the cuffs have to be rolled up to avoid them dragging the ground.  My shirt is an old t-shirt that was bleached to look like it was tie-dyed.  I haven't taken a bath in weeks.  My hands are so dirty that my fingernails are black.  My son wears a black leather jacket, jeans, a tee shirt, and tennis shoes.  His hair is very greasy and he hasn't shaved in a week.  He reeks of cigarette smoke and uncleanliness.  His nails are also dirty.  He has a friend, an imaginary dragon, who he talks to on occasion.  He also speaks in tongues.  If he's not on his medicine, you will notice a difference in his personality.  You look at me with disgust and hope that I will hurry out of the bank or that we will be way behind you in line so that you don't have to smell us or see us.  We are humans and not animals.  We have mental health issues.  Please don't make fun of us or get angry.  We may not realize that we smell or look so bad.  We may be immune to it.  We may think that we are clean or our standards are different than yours.  Please don't judge us. 

These are real people in my life.  I see them almost every day near my workplace.  I try not to judge or poke fun but sometimes I get really disgusted by them.  I shouldn't be that way.  This could easily be me.  What happened in their lives to make them the way they are today?  Did they lose their job?  Were they abused?  Did they do drugs?  Do they have a drinking problem?  Did they have a tragedy in their life?  Were they born with mental illness?  Did they make a bad decision that changed their lives forever?  Do they have family?  Were they abandoned by their family? 

It makes me wonder.  Yep, this could be me.  I've been unemployed.  I've had tragedy in my life.  I have suffered from mental illness.  Nope, I've never done drugs.  I've never been abused.  Thank God that I've never been homeless.  I have a large, loving family and a big support group full of friends but what if everyone wanted me out of their lives?  Truly, I could be one decision, event, catastrophe away from being in their shoes. 

Since starting this show, I've tried to look at them with a different perspective.  They deserve dignity.  They don't need to be judged but need to be treated as human beings.  They deserve respect regardless of how they look, how they smell, or how they act. 

How do you measure the life in a year?

For me the past few days have been awash with emotion.  It has really made me think about life in general.

I spent Friday with a cousin who is battling breast cancer.  Every second of her life is precious.  She is a fighter and wants to live but something is taking her life away cell by cell. 

On Saturday I witnessed a traumatic event, a traffic accident in which a life was lost.  I was jamming out to my RENT CD and was living life while someone else's life had just ended.  As soon as I saw what happened, I instantly started bawling.  How fortunate I was to keep on going.  My day totally changed from there. 

Later that same day I visited the cemetery where my maternal grandparents are buried.  This time I felt different.  I normally cry when I go there but this time I didn't shed a tear.  There was kind of a calmness about me.  Even though I was young when they passed away, I always felt like I was robbed of time with them.  That has seemed to disappear on Saturday.  

Then on Sunday I attended a visitation, followed by a funeral on Monday.  It brought back emotions that I went through when my paternal grandparents died a mere two years ago.  I know how it felt to lose someone.  Even though a life was lived to its fullest, it is still a loss and is hard to get over. 

All of these things involve death/dying in some way, shape, or form.  Death binds us all together.  At some point we will all die but before dying is living and loving.  When you look back on your life, can you really measure your life in a year?  Life can't be measured.  Yes, we have years but is that really an indicator as to how much life we've lived?  Love can't be measured.  There is no quantity to love.  Can we ever really love or be loved enough though? 

Tonight I felt the love.  Tonight I felt the life.  As we sang, as we huddled around a garbage can, as we hugged each other, as we cried, as we got angry, as we were contemplative...  We poured our hearts and souls into tonight's rehearsal.  We lived and we loved our community. 

Immerse yourself in the music...

Feel it.  Hear it.  Immerse yourself in it.  Get emotional.  Really listen to the words.  Let it move you.  Feel the rhythm.  Pour your heart into the songs.  Become the characters. 

We sure did that tonight.  It may not have been completely pretty but at times it was moving.  Yep, it was awkward.  Nope, it wasn't smooth and easy.  We stuck it out.  We made it through the songs.  We helped each other out.  We applauded each other.  We laughed.  We may have felt like screaming because some things weren't familiar but we did it.  And we should be proud of ourselves for surviving the first sing-through.

It has been 16 years since I sang in a group and it felt good to get back into the 'sing' of things.  I forgot what this felt like.  Why did I wait so long to do something like this again?  I missed being part of a group and it has been a wonderful experience so far.  I know that it can only get better from here.  Is anyone else excited about breaking the songs down into parts and really delving deeply into the music?  I can't wait to see and hear what happens next...