River Phoenix is dead

I was watching TV last night when I saw a commercial for a new movie coming out that stars Johnny Depp as the voice of the main character ('Rango'). It's an animated movie. I think it's even in 3-D. I'll certainly go to see it if it's in 3-D. I only really go to 3-D movies now since it's too expensive to go to a movie that I could easily rent on DVD a few months later for only a few dollars.

Anyway, I was watching the commercial and thinking to myself - Johnny Depp is a really good actor, has he won an Oscar yet? He must have! So, of course, like any curiosity I have anymore, I looked up Johnny Depp online - via Google - and found out: 1) No, Johnny Depp has not won an Oscar yet although he has been nominated a few times and 2) River Phoenix's death will always be linked to Johnny Depp (as it seems since there were a bunch of hits mentioning River Phoenix.) [Actually, after reviewing this I realized that this is not how I got to River Phoenix - I guess he will always be linked to River's death in my mind since I think I just wondered if they ever were in a movie together because I knew they were friends and they both have that same je ne sais quoi but I couldn't find any references to a movie together and couldn't remember it and anyway if you do look up both of their names you will find most of the links to be about his death.] That, of course, opened a wound I had not thought about in a long time.

In fourth grade, or maybe it was the Summer after fourth grade, I went to a birthday party - a slumber party (which I always dreaded since I had issues cause I liked to actually go to sleep and I had homesickness problems) - at a friend's house fairly far from home (about a half hour). Almost all of the girls in my class were there (I went to a small, private school with approximately 30-35 kids per grade/class). I remember it was a warm late Spring or Summer evening, we played tetherball in the backyard...and other such activities. There might have even been an above-ground pool. Then, after pizza and cake and presents, we went to a room that we set up our sleeping bags in for the night and we chose between two movies - one that I cannot remember, the other one the majority picked: 'Stand By Me' which I don't think I wanted to see but I also didn't know much about it. So our friend's mom put the VHS tape in the machine and we all got comfy and watched it. Well, I think it's probably "needless to say", but yes, I fell in love with that movie - but really, I fell in love with River Phoenix and his portrayal of Chris Chambers. It was 1987 and I was 10.

There was something about River Phoenix that felt real to me - he made me feel like he and I were one of the same or definitely similar. His emotions onscreen were my emotions inside. Even his facial expressions somehow seemed reminiscent of my own facial expressions. For a long time I thought I was in love with him - a deep, bonded love, more than just sexual. Then, years later, I realized it wasn't that I wanted to be with him - it was that I wanted to be him. For years after, I was obsessed with getting my hair cut like Chris Chambers' hair in the movie - a "buzz cut"! I read interviews with River Phoenix which only made me love him more - he was just a good, clean-cut, genuine, kind and peaceful person - just like Chris Chambers in the movie (except in the movie he had a bad reputation because of his family). Even his name feels peaceful - natural. I used to wish my name was like that - I even thought of 'Ocean' as something I'd want to be called! I read somewhere that he lived in San Diego, CA, with his family and I immediately became fixated on someday living in San Diego! River Phoenix was a no-drug-taking, vegetarian, peace-and-nature loving kid, as far as I knew.

Then, after a few years of a lot of life for me - I woke up on November 1st, 1993 (almost an entire year since the untimely and tragic death of my older sister and her newborn son, my nephew) and heard on the radio that River Phoenix died the night before outside a nightclub in L.A. from a drug overdose.

I couldn't believe it. I was shocked. I was floored. I was devastated. It felt like my soulmate - or part of my soul, even - had suddenly turned into something unrecognizable and vanished into thin air. I thought it was a lie - River Phoenix didn't do drugs! He was a "good kid"! He was anti-drugs! He can't die - he's only 23! (Although, at the time, I was 16 and felt like 23 was an "adult".)

Still, to this day, I find it hard to accept. This was a mistake. A fatal mistake. This wasn't the River Phoenix most of us knew. But now it will be the River Phoenix that most of us will remember forever. It makes me sad and angry. It angers me because it's just the smallest fraction of who he was - I know cause I felt it - doing drugs and what not (I even went through a brief phase when I did some hard drugs around the same age!) And if he had lived he would've figured it out as bullshit and moved on with his life to create more meaningful performances and art that would truly affect people and move them. But in this Universe, in this version, he died and his legacy is fixed.

One of the websites I found when I was on my internet search last night gave a very detailed description of what happened that night that he died - as detailed as someone who wasn't there might be able to give. It was really quite graphic even though I didn't click on any of the links to see his coffin or to hear the 911 call that his brother, Joaquin, made outside the Viper Room (Johnny Depp's nightclub that will forever be associated with River Phoenix's death.) I'm usually one of those gruesomely curious people who will click on those links and listen to the calls but the idea of it disgusted me in this case. I don't want to see him like that - I had trouble even reading the description of his death - his foaming at the mouth, yelling at the guy who gave him the last bump of a drug ("Persian Brown"), uncontrollable flailing and seizures. He did so many different drugs that night - marijuana, valium, cocaine, crystal meth, heroin. It's almost as if he was trying to kill himself. Instead, I think he just had too many opportunities - he probably was just given each drug to try. Most people can't afford that many drugs! Well, no one can in the end.

Honestly, maybe I'm also a little scarred from reading that description. It reminded me of my own drug experiences. Doing drugs is scary. The last time I did cocaine I felt that horrible feeling when we were coming down from it (cause we ran out!) - like I would never feel good again. My heart was racy and I was jittery - I think it felt like drinking way too much coffee but not feeling good and happy and free - it felt like being caged in my own body as it tried to get rid of the poison. I was 22 at the time, living in Staten Island with a girlfriend who was 18 and I was supporting both of us on a graduate student stipend, attending NYU for a masters in music technology. I never finished the program, let alone the first semester! Moving out of NYC probably saved me from becoming a drug addict (and possibly saved my life, although I don't know if I'd ever let it get that bad.) I wanted to move, in part, to get away from the easy and sleazy access. That girlfriend was into drugs and picked up sleazy people all the time to hang out with and get drugs from. So we moved to Pittsburgh. And I applied to Pitt and got into their doctorate program in biology - MCDB: Molecular, Cell, Developmental biology & Biochemistry. The rest is history...

(Actually, all of it is..)

Just to truly complete this blog and not leave it all hanging, I guess I just really miss River Phoenix. I wish he was alive now and continuing with his art. Sometimes it feels like a piece of me died when he died. Or maybe a piece of him stayed alive in me.

About that time

It's long been said that there are several phases or stages of grief. I found a website that outlines seven, to be exact: 1) Shock & Denial 2) Pain & Guilt 3) Anger & Bargaining 4) "Depression", Reflection and Lonliness 5) The Upward Turn 6) Reconstruction & Working Through 7) Acceptence and Hope. Honestly, that seems like a lot and also I believe the order is not always as described and yes, of course, each individual will experience it in a different way. In any case, as far as my newest addition to my ex-girlfiriends is concerned - it looks like we've entered stage 3) Anger (and I'm not sure why "bargaining" is here...I feel like that is more in stage 1)). It feels like she is collecting data, evaluating it and getting angry at me now. So, of course, I am reflecting on data I've already collected and showing her how it angered me. Maybe that's not fair - you know, for me to do that. In fact, maybe this is the time when we should stop all communication.

You might wonder why we're even continuing to communicate in the first place right now. Let me explain. I think maybe Lesbian Break-Up Grief has a slightly different take on the regular version. For instance, I think we, lesbians, like to think that we can be friends seamlessly immediately after breaking up. Just turn the formerly sexual relationship into a non-sexual one. However, that never works. But I believe it is the first stage of Lesbian Break-Up Grief. The problem is that it's not a separate stage - all the normal stages happen at the same time - kind of like: 1) Let's slightly adjust our relationship from sexual to non-sexual and stay close friends 1a) Shock & Denial 1b) Pain & Guilt 1c) Anger...then there's a problem. Cause 1c) Anger brings out the problems which caused the end of the relationship to begin with. Hence, the friendship cannot work, either, and there's the end of the friendship as stage 2). Then, again, we go back to 2a) Shock & Denial 2b) Pain & Guilt.. all the while still angry. Then, maybe the regular stages resume. I don't know.. I can't quite remember. It seems like the first three stages last until time dissipates the emotions.

Anyway, we're on anger. She's angry at me for breaking up with her over and over again during the course of our (almost) two year relationship. Then she's also angry that I broke up with her this last time despite saying I'd try to work it out with her. But the question is, when have you tried hard enough? When do you throw in the towel?

To be honest, she has legitimate reason to be angry at me for breaking up with her over and over again while we dated. I know I should've just stayed broken up with her after I broke up with her the first time (after a month of dating). But I was weak. And wanted it to work...we always made some sort of deal on how it would work but usually it was me who compromised or promised something. Usually - but there were two clear changes that she made after I broke up with her at two different times. In any case, I guess I wanted her to change more. And some things I couldn't figure out how to get her to change. But the truth is - if you base your relationship on how you think it could be and not how it is, then you're really playing with fire as far as the stability of the relationship is concerned. I've known that the whole time, too. I just put it out of my mind. Did I mention that she's gorgeous? At least to me.

I guess I'm not really that angry at her except that she has no idea how she is to others. She has no idea how her behavior affects others. I don't think she really cares, either. Maybe I'm angry about that. Mostly I'm full of guilt and sadness still.

X Marks the Spot

I'd like to make a graveyard for my ex-girlfriends. Well, not them - but for the ghosts of their past selves that I dated - I guess my ghost could go there, too. I would like to visit their graves from time to time to properly mourn or absorb the impact of their passing from my life.

Maybe having a place to go to mourn them would help with my fear of the end of relationships. It seems to hurt more because no one died.

I'm digging a new grave. I am terrified of the end of another relationship and I haven't been able to end it for the past year and a half in which I've periodically been trying to end it. I still have so much pain from my last relationship termination. I can't stand that I'm about to hurt someone I love in a similar way that I was hurt by someone I loved. I am scared that I won't follow through yet again, which will only hurt both of us even more.

I was madly in love with my last girlfriend (the one before my current) and we barely argued until the last two months we were together. It was a joyous, loving, sweet and relatively fun relationship (I was writing my dissertation for three months of it, though, and it was only nine months long.) It was the first relationship where I truly believed it would last the rest of our lives - I thought we were pretty much perfect together and I thought she felt the same. She didn't seem like the type to break up with someone - she had dated the girlfriend before me for three years and only broke up with her because that girlfriend treated her badly or it was a bad relationship, anyhow. It still angers me that she broke up with me so easily when she put so much time and effort into making the bad relationship work. The only thing that I could think that really explained why she broke up with me was that I moved to San Francisco (and she said she'd love to move back to SF after she finished her doctorate in Pittsburgh) - but I told her if that was why I would move back to Pittsburgh for her. I wasn't lying. I was that in love with her. She told me she didn't want me to move back to be with her, that she probably would've broken up with me had I stayed, too.

It's been five years since that ex and I broke up. She's been dating her "new" girlfriend for 4+ years now and she's been trying to get pregnant for over a year. They've lived together since she started trying to get pregnant. It hurts because her girlfriend is luke-warm at best about starting a family while I dream of it - and dreamed of having one with my ex. Everytime we try to have a friendship I end up having feelings for her that are so strong that I almost believe we could get back together - that she would somehow realize what she's missing in me and break up with her girlfriend and ask me to move back to Pittsburgh to start a family with her. It's near delusional. (Once she meant to call me delusional but she said something about enjoying my "illusions"... I couldn't help laughing - if I was a magician (or illusionist) I would've made her magically fall back in love with me!)

When she broke up with me, I swear I was truly just broken. I couldn't trust any feelings of love in me or anyone else - certainly not anyone else. I don't know if I've even gotten over that since I haven't really believed in my current relationship since about a month after we started dating when I started to detect some abnormal behaviors. But for that month, I truly thought I could believe in love again.

When someone dies, it's already understood that no explanation will really suffice - even if you know what happened that made them lose their life - cancer, getting hit by a train, heart attack, etc. If it was unexpected, like an accident, you usually don't get the chance to say goodbye. But a break-up is never that clean of a cut. Or at least, not usually - especially for lesbians, I think. First, you do get to say goodbye. Second, even though no explanation will ever really suffice, you think you could figure it out if you dig deep enough...and maybe, even, you could then "fix" it (as in, reverse it.) At least, this is how I've experienced break-ups. Except for one time, I've always been the one to be broken-up with (with maybe a couple of neutral ones where we both felt it was right to end it.) Oh, I guess there was another time but that was an abusive situation and I still wanted it to work but I had to end it because I was being used so dramatically. So I don't think that counts.

In any case, just about all of my break-ups have been messy and painful. Usually, the relationship is damaged beyond repair - or at least just damaged such that there is always the lingering unease if/when we run into each other. It fades with time and if there was any friendship in it to begin with. But even then, I think there's still this slight burn to the relationship like someone got hurt more than the other and remembers it. Usually, it's me. Some of my exes just didn't like me as a person - not hated but we weren't really friends and aren't now. I guess I don't like them that much, either. But it still burns a little to be rejected, you know? I haven't even spoken to or heard from or of the one ex I broke up with because I wasn't in love with her. She might hate me. I definitely hurt her. That was 13 years ago now.

I don't want to end this relationship badly. I don't want it to hurt - but it will. It's been really hard to even talk to her about how the relationship doesn't work well, so we haven't been able to address the issues except when I accept full blame for anything. I'm afraid she won't let me break up with her in as loving a way as possible. I'm afraid she will just clam up and shut me out immediately. In some ways, I understand that. I don't think I could fully accept a break up if it were done in a loving way - maybe it's harder that way. Maybe it would be easier for her to just hate me (and maybe she will) but it wouldn't be easier for me that way. And I don't hate her - I love her, in fact. I just don't think we should be together for many reasons that I don't feel I need to explain here. I don't really want to have to explain them all to her, either, since some reasons might be hurtful to her.

I did it. Tonight, on the phone. I didn't mean to - I meant to wait to talk to her in person - like tomorrow afternoon.  But I've been so anxious and sad about it that I started crying when she asked me how my week had been. I wouldn't tell her what is was about - just that I wanted to talk to her about it in person. Then she asked if I was breaking up with her and I said I just wanted to talk to her in person - then she knew.

Morning of January 29th: I broke up with my girlfriend last night. I'm hurting. I felt a little free for a little while and now I'm just hurting. I might feel free again but I always miss her in the morning.

Science Funk

I'm in a funk at work. I just don't feel like doing it anymore right now.

Does this happen to you? I know that writers get "writer's block" and artists sometimes struggle for inspiration...can I describe my science funk as similar to those phenomena?

Maybe I just need a vacation to release me. I think I'm over-worked and the pay-off is missing yet.

I worked a lot last week trying to collect the data from my first real experiment (that concluded two months of work) at my new lab/job - until midnight last Wednesday (over 13hrs), until 8pm on Thursday (11hrs) and until 7pm on Friday (9hrs). My analysis resulted in either an intermediate or no effect. The experimental design had some flaws, too, so it needs to be repeated. However, a collaborating lab got positive results using different cells indicating that I'm basically barking up the wrong tree. But I still have to repeat my experiment to get a definitive negative result (unless it isn't negative and then that would be more complex).

Not only that. But then there's just this constant feeling of swimming upstream lately. My boss - who I like - keeps telling me how I could be doing things better - which I know is her job but it feels crummy because I feel like I've already been changing things to make them better but I get no kudos for that because she didn't know me before and my old boss who did know me doesn't see my improvements and even if he did he isn't the type to give kudos (one of the reasons I was less fond of him).

I want to go to the beach and lie down under the blue sky. I want to feel the fine, white sand between my toes. I want to walk into the crystal-clear, still Caribean Sea until it reaches my chest and turn in circles, feeling the warm water gently ripple around me. I want to breathe in the warm, salt air. I'm tired. I want to be invigorated again.

Is it a burden?

Does it matter if it is? Do any of us have a choice?

My head is spinning since watching the movie about Facebook - "The Social Network". I definitely think it's an entertaining movie. I don't think it's "the first great ... movie of the 21st century" as it has been touted in previews. Actually, the quote is from a blog post by Lou Lumenick on the New York Post's website reviewing the movie and where I've written the "..." is inserted "fact-based". That's worth pointing out - it refers to the fact that the movie is still fictional, but closer to non-fiction since it is "fact-based". One would not need to describe a non-fictional piece of work as "fact-based" since it's already implied in the term and it would thus be redundant. In any case, that's something to remember and consider when thinking about the movie and any relation to reality.

I will try to keep it in mind, myself, while I write this post.

Many of the reviews, and even Mark Zuckerberg, himself, have been saying that the movie sheds a negative portrayal of Mark, the founder and CEO of Facebook. I, however, didn't find his character in the movie as deplorable. In fact, I kind of saw myself in him. The character - and I don't know if this is how the real Mark Zuckerberg acts and, in fact, it's likely that he doesn't act this way because I think it's probably more the actor, Jesse Eisenberg - talks really fast and self-assuredly which obviously implies he thinks fast and constantly. He has a brilliant mind - smart and fast. He even understands social situations - he just doesn't navigate himself through them well - well, at least in this version of the "truth".

Mark gets frustrated when other people can't keep up with him and the way he thinks. He gets bored with "small talk". They sound a bit arrogant, but I can understand these feelings. However, I have, in recent years, realized the necessity of disguising these feelings. I still get frustrated because I hate repeating myself and I feel like I have to do that a lot more with other people - not repeating myself because they didn't hear me, but repeating whole conversations because they didn't quite grasp it yet although I will have thought we came to the conclusion already - which is inevitably what it is but sometimes other people aren't quite there yet. I mean, I'm just quick at thinking, I think. And I spend all day thinking so I guess I exercise that part of me often so it's in good shape. (And I'm quick at learning - I only need to learn something once for me to understand it - most of the time. Sometimes I continue to understand something more and more with each lesson, but most of the time I almost fully grasp something right after be taught it the first time. At least I believe I do which I also think is part of the whole success thing - you need to be self-confident.)

Let me get to the point: I feel that in order to be a historically significant person - someone who can honestly be considered great and remembered for all time - you have to sacrifice social and domestic life. I felt like the character of Mark Zuckerberg was lonely and eventually all alone at the top. (I think this is one of the contentions of the real Mark Zuckerberg so I need the qualifiers). He seemed unhappy and sad. I also understand it is a bit of a caricature. In any case, I know there's some truth to it. And I feel like that's what I'm doing. I don't have much of a life at all. The more of a "life" I have (this is the personal, social and domestic parts of one's life to which I am referring), the less I have time to work and vice versa. I would like to think I have not made these sacrifices in vain. It doesn't matter, though, because I don't really have a choice now that I've chosen this path - which I didn't know would actually limit my choices rather than widening them.

I don't mean to open the whole "why did I get my doctorate" can of worms. I'll save that for another blog post. I suppose what I'm feeling that I'm trying to convey in this post is that being smarter than the average person, or feeling smarter (if that's all it really is - my own perception of superior intellect), I feel like I am burdened by it to do something great with it - this intelligence, you know? And thus, I must sacrifice the life that I thought I would have - the one everyone is taught they will have - in order to do this "great" something with my life.

The life that I am referring to, if you aren't fully grasping my point, is the one where you go to college after high school, get a job doing something that requires a bachelor's but not necessarily anything particularly specific to the subject of your college major, date around a little but then marry the person who you're dating by the time you're about 30, have kids soon thereafter, and then get consumed by the domestic life of raising a family - you get older, your kids have kids and then you die. Something like that - am I right? I mean, sure, we've been told the more glorified version, but that's pretty much it. And it's true - it happens all the time, like clockwork. I swear I had no idea that it was so predictable - the sudden massive onslaught of marriages that my straight acquaintances had to endure over a few summers between ages 28-31 (ish). Myself, being gay, only had to go to a handful of weddings (if that) - thankfully, to be honest! Weddings are stressful. My brother told me how he had to go to weddings every single weekend for at least one of those summers, if not two or three of them. Now those people are either getting divorced or having babies. Unfortunately, my brother fell into the divorce path - although it was not his choice and I will write another post about the biggest lie out there (about the nature of love) that is destroying people's lives (I am purposefully being dramatic).

Ok, going back to the burden that I feel I must carry out since I am blessed with my mind. I could just blow it all to hell and be a beach bum, you know? But I won't. I don't feel like I can, in fact, because I would get bored. And if I didn't get bored it would be because I was using my intelligence to do something - maybe to discover something, maybe to build something, paint something, etc. etc., and thus, using my intelligence somehow to do something that could be conceived of as "great". So then maybe it isn't a burden. Or maybe I have no choice and it doesn't matter either way if it is or not cause there's no way around it.

To complete my story - or blog post - I will now come back to the movie about Mark Zuckerberg and the making of Facebook. If I could talk to Mark Zuckerberg (the character from the movie), I think I would say this to him:

Hey Mark, yes, obviously you're very smart - some may even call brilliant or a genius if you believe in genius, but here's the thing: you gotta give everyone else a wee bit of a break. They're not as quick as you, but they're still worth knowing, you know? And caring about. So maybe you could slow down and take some time to figure out what it is about them - and the world you have taken for granted around you since you understand how it works so well and easily - and consider the things you cannot ever fully understand like beauty. And love. And inner peace. Then maybe you can find some humility and give yourself a break, too. You don't have to be the best, the greatest, etc. You can just be happy if you want to.

Those are my thoughts. I'm not sure how well this post fits together. I wrote it in several sittings. I'm not positive even if I have completed any thought whatsoever. I just saw myself in him (M.Z.) and so maybe it's really just about me and how I feel about me.

The Town

This is my first video post. It is a marionette tragedy in two acts. Although I have used some clips of copyrighted materials - notably "Mad World" by Gary Jules (cover of the original by Tears for Fears). If a significant amount of people watch this I guess I'll have to deal with that issue. However, I don't think it'll make any real impact. It's really just for fun. Enjoy!

Love Is an Open Wound

My family just told me this past weekend that one of my favorite beings - our cat, Sidney - has been missing for two weeks. She is either dead, foraging to survive or thriving in someone else's care. She is a gorgeous cat - a ten-year-old himalayan with long, white fur and grey tips - and she's incredibly friendly and sweet! It's highly possible that someone picked her up and took her home. Hopefully she is ok.

However, it is also possible that Sidney has passed. This possibility is, of course, the hardest to swallow. I bawled and cried and paced and panicked and had trouble breathing and cried and cried over this possibility. Then, after a few days of thinking on it, I realized that it is more likely that she is ok since my brothers have been searching all over for her and no one has found any evidence of her demise. She was too young and healthy to just die for no reason so there would be evidence if she was killed by some animal or some thing - a body, fur, blood, etc. After coming to that conclusion, I have been feeling somewhat more optimistic about her prospects. As soon as I get up to Portland, OR, where my family lives (they actually live about 20 miles southeast of Portland in a town called West Linn), I plan on implementing a huge search and rescue effort. I will not leave there after 5 days without putting in the best effort that I can possibly put in to find her. Because I love her.

I love Sidney, or Sidnerelli as I like to call her. Her disappearance and possible demise hurts so much - makes it hard to breath at times, even - because I love her so much. I was thinking about this fact about love - that when someone you love dies it hurts so much that it feels unbearable and I was feeling like I just can't do it anymore - deal with the pain of losing someone I love. I looked at my cats, Molly and Bates, who live with me and my little dog, Letia, and I couldn't even imagine what I'd be like if one of them had died or was even missing for as long as Sidney. It's not that I love them more than I love Sidney, but our lives are definitely more intertwined since I live with them.

In any case, I realized that despite the pact that I've made with my pets, it's highly likely that they will die before I do and thus, I will have to endure their deaths. That realization made me feel - for a moment at least - like I might have made a mistake falling in love with these beings, that I am now doomed to that pain whereas if I hadn't taken them into my life (or even allowed them to be born, as the case was for Molly and Sidney), I wouldn't be doomed to such pain. Then I reminded myself that of course I didn't make a mistake bringing these beings into my life, that they have brought me so much joy and love - how could I even consider not having them?

This brings me to the thesis of my post: love is an open wound. When you love someone, you are opening your heart to them and exposing yourself to certain grief. Of course, that's not all that love is - it is a wonderful joyous feeling and everlasting comfort and more than anything anyone can ever completely describe. But it is guaranteed to give pain because of its loss - either due to the love ending or due to the object of love leaving or dying. Unless you die first. But then your death will hurt the ones that love you. So there's no getting around it - the suffering will be there with or without you.

I also considered what I had thought previously - what if you never let yourself love anyone? Could you really avoid the pain and suffering associated with love in that case? I thought about this and came to the conclusion that no, there's no way around it - either you love and lose or you just lose and lose. There's no joy in never loving anyone or being loved by no one! I'm not even sure that's possible, but if it were I cannot imagine that it would be a pain,-suffering-and-grief-free existence. Therefore, it is preferable to endure love and loss, and, since love is an open wound, make sure to tend to it so it doesn't become infected.