internal monoblog - the weblog of sandra heikkinen

Dear Moms (or: happy Mother's Day/sappy me)

Today is Mother's Day, and I'm feeling incredibly grateful for the moms in my life.

Grandma
Your strength, grace, dignity, determination and humor amazes me every day. You lost one of the most amazing men on Earth -- your husband of nearly 66 years -- just a few months ago. The fact that I teared up typing that lends weight to my next thought: I don't know how you do it. I knew him well and loved him for 30 years and it still breaks my heart that he's gone, every day. Many people would be broken as a person after a loss of that magnitude, but you're not. You are still an amazing mother, grandma, great-grandma and person and haven't lost your ability to laugh or care about others -- and you have never shown an ounce of self-pity. You have passed this survive/thrive mentality on to both me and my mom, I think (or hope, anyway!) and I will forever be thankful for it.

But beyond that, you've never been anything but amazing. When I found out I needed several thousand more dollars than I'd anticipated to move to NYC, you didn't look down on me for even a second. You said, "is tomorrow soon enough to deposit it in your account?" and never mentioned it again, except to say that you got the checks I sent to repay you. Which you didn't want me to send until I was 'on my feet' again. You've never batted an eyelash at anything your kids or grandkids have done to follow their dreams; you've just supported all of us.

You are quite possibly the most quietly stubborn woman I know, which is both an amazing and terrible quality. I know this well, because I think I'm rather similar -- and I know my mom and brother are. You care from the top of your head to the tips of your toes, but never interfere. You are selfless, but never leave any doubt that you have a spine. You take care of others, but never forget to take care of yourself. You know yourself well, and are proud of who you are, and have no problem looking yourself in the mirror. You are, at probably 4'10" and 90 pounds, one of the toughest -- yet kindest -- people I'll ever have the pleasure of knowing. You are hilarious and full of joy, and laugh until tears stream down your face regularly. You knitted me my favorite blanket. You are open-minded in a way not generally associated with your generation, and don't tolerate less than that from others. I love you, and I'm so glad I've had the chance to know you, learn from you and love you  for more than 31 years.

Mom
You have no idea how amazing you are, which seems insane to both me and Mikey, because we could not possibly have asked for a better mother. You are the most maternal person I've ever met, but you're not a pushover; you would defend your family to the death, but you won't be walked on. You support us in everything we do, without reservation, and you believe in us -- which means more than I can ever explain.

You've taught me about picking up and moving forward, no matter how hard a situation might be. You've taught me that actions really do speak louder than words, but that words should be chosen carefully when speaking (or arguing) with the people you love -- since although they won't break bones, they can hurt someone's core. You've taught me about the joy of taking long walks, the importance of having a great circle of friends and being a great friend, the value of self-respect, the necessity of picking your battles, the healing powers of a terrible movie and ice cream (and in later years, wine), the idea of putting family first and the fabulousness of laughing until it hurts.

We have not, even after driving cross-country together once and making our way up the East Coast together last summer, fought since the day of my 18th birthday -- 13 years ago. I'm not sure if you know how rare this is for mothers and daughters, so I'll tell you: it's rare. You have become my friend, as well as my mom, but you're always a mom first and for that I will be forever grateful.

You have helped me pack for/move to college, Chicago, Sydney, San Francisco and New York in the past 10 years. I know you'd love if I was closer to you geographically, but you've always understood that I was searching for the right place to build my life, and never made me feel guilty about the journey.

What I hope you've also understood is that you will always be  home to me -- and that I feel incredibly close to you personally, which far outweighs geography in my mind -- and that I'd give almost anything for NYC to be closer to Detroit, so that we could take walks, have Sunday dinners, watch bad TV, eat Dairy Queen, have good talks and laugh together more often. I miss you every day, and I love you.

Sis-in-Law
You are an amazing person. I remember meeting you for the first time -- when you were pregnant with my fantastic first niece and I surprised you -- and realizing how much you loved my brother when you started crying as soon as you saw me. You made it through a pregnancy, and delivery, while he was in Iraq, and you did it with a grace so far beyond your (at that point) 22 years that it blew me away.

When Kendal was a baby, the doctors thought there were a few things wrong with her, which thankfully turned out not to be the case. But I firmly believe that you are responsible for her getting past some developmental hurdles and becoming the ball of movement and energy we all know and love today -- and don't doubt for a second that you meant it with every fiber of your being when you told me that if something really was wrong, you'd devote yourself to helping her be as well as possible.

You have been a devoted, loyal wife to my brother, and supported him through some really tough times. You've fit into our family with ease, despite never having siblings of your own and not quite understanding the weird bond and shorthand/lingo. You send photos of the girls to their great-grandma every month, which honestly makes the rest of us as happy as it makes her. You are shy, yet never a pushover and absolutely hilarious when you get past your shyness; it's worth waiting for. You knew exactly what to say when I called to tell you my grandpa passed away. You are an amazing mother to my nieces, wife to my brother, daughter to your mom and I couldn't ask for a better sister-in-law. Much love from the East sieeeeede.

Dating is Funny, Part 44,006 (or: a poem and a life coach. really.)

As a single girl in NYC, I've had my share of interesting and/or hilarious dating-related encounters. Some have come as a result of meeting someone in a 'traditional' (see: at a bar, through friends, etc.) way -- and others have come as a result of meeting someone through the wacky  internets (see: online dating). And some have come my way as a result of never meeting at all.

This week, I received a note -- through match.com -- from a very earnest Life Coach (for the record: glad he's a self-improver and probably a positive guy, but I can think of very few people less likely to date a Life Coach than me, and can't figure out how someone who was one could read my profile and decide we'd be a good fit). And a poem from a very...well, a poem. Which I've included below, just so everyone can get a sense of the randomness of dating.

For the record, if anyone knows a fabulous single guy in NYC? I'm open to the fix-up. :)

Morning Poem
By Match.com Guy (who I'll keep anonymous, since I'm being bitchy enough by posting this)

Summer trees are packed with green leaves
On their healthy branches
In the park I see every morning
The Sun hasn't touched them yet for the new day,
But they are blessed by the blue morning sky
And nourished by morning breezes.
Birds are looking at each other,
Moving to and fro
This is a very nice morning for them too.

Water flows through the lake in an arrogant style
As it is reluctant to move
Reminiscing all memories and laughter
So to enjoy life on its way.

With the rhythm of life we feel
So many things, see beauty all around us;
Morning comes to our life with promises of a life
Enriched with the quest for a better future.
May our morning be blessed and everlasting
For its coolness and purity.

All Hail, TequilaCon! (or: Bloggers take Philly...)

Photographic evidence -- although not much, since my battery ran out not long into the evening (although I don't anticipate that being an issue, since there were about 66,000 other cameras around) -- of TequilaCon: Philly Edition fun, below.

Thanks to Jen for being such a great organizer, Dustin and Vahid for the setting up (I really would have helped if I didn't sleep in to 12:15!) and Dave for making it look all professional & shit. I love that there were lanyards. And signs. And buttons.

Hopefully my song requesting, bad dancing (Jen, I will forever love you for knowing all the words to 'Shoop') Blue Steel throwing, tater tot eating and drinking skills  were at least a slight payback for all of your ACTUAL work. Also, it was SO great to meet/see everyone!

My tater tot and slider buddy, the fabulous Dustin -- who looks happy because the tater tots were nearby



Organizer and Blue Steel looker extraordinaire, Jenny

Our mascot, in a costume purchased for him by his mom (we 'heart' you, Momma Dustin!)

We are very intimidating

Self-Esteem (or: my first GBBMC post!!)

When I was 15 years old, I had an incredibly ginormous crush on a guy at another high school. We met initially because my BFF was dating his BFF's other BFF, and I couldn't tear my eyes away from him.

To this day, I'm not exactly sure why that was; he had an incredible body and decent-looking face, but I've seen a lot of guys who are better looking and met a lot of people who are a lot more amazing. So I guess the answer is that there was incredible chemistry between me and this guy -- who we'll call Sean -- and I felt it, though didn't quite understand it, even when I was 15.

At the time I met Sean, I was dating another guy -- an incredibly nice boy who we'll call Gary. Gary was smart, athletic, funny, interesting, cute and nothing but nice...so naturally, the 15-year-old me wasn't so sure about him. Sean was mysterious! And brooding! And hot in a really obvious way! And wore a varsity jacket with a dumb nickname on the back! And was disrespectful to girls!

And so it was that me and Gary drifted apart, and I fixed my sights on Sean -- who by this point, my friends had started referring to as Shady Sean (although they were on board to help me hang out in the same place as him as much as possible, due to the hotness). This began with frequent attendance at his football games and intentionally casual hellos at gatherings of mutual friends, developed into brief (and awkward) conversations and culminated (sort of) in my first experience with...well, I'll explain.

One lovely Fall evening, a good friend of mine -- whose older brother was very good friends with Shady Sean -- had a party, with his brother. Their house was huge, their friends were many and the Zimas and 40s, they were-a-flowin'. Seriously.

Anyway. I was in the basement with a bunch of people, not drinking Zima -- I'd actually never touched alcohol at that point -- when my friend came downstairs and said, "Sandra, Sean's looking for you -- he's in the den if you want to go find him." Which, of course, caused my teenage heart to leap out of my chest and fly up the stairs.

And so I followed my fluttering heart up the stairs and into the den, where Sean was sitting alone, in the dark, watching Letterman. In the middle of a party, mind you. Nothing sketchy here, kids.

I walked into the room, acknowledged that I'd been told he was looking for me and sat down on the end of the couch. About four seconds later, Sean grabbed me, stuck his tongue down my throat and maneuvered me onto the couch.

Backing up for a second, here, I should point out that before this moment, I'd had very little experience with all things making out. I'd had my first kiss the summer after 8th grade, I'd briefly kissed my "boyfriend" from freshman year and I'd kissed/had my chest felt up by Gary. But nothing huge.

Anyway. As I lay on the couch, making out furiously with Shady Sean, I felt like a badass. The hot guy wanted ME, and we were making out! On a couch! At a party!

This happy feeling lasted through the removal of my shirt (again, I felt like a badass) but started to drift away around the time he grabbed for the clasp on my bra. And turned to confusion a minute or two later when I found my head being guided to the...central region...of his body, and heard, "will you suck my neck?"

Thinking that seemed like a really reasonable request, I nodded in affirmation and reached up toward his neck with my mouth. This seemed to make him happy for a minute or so, and I mentally patted myself on the back. After that minute or so was up, though, I found my head being guided downward and realized with alarm what he'd actually been asking me to suck.

At this point, all the alarm bells in my head went off and I stood up rapidly, pulling my shirt off the floor and onto my body. I said something inane like, "I think my ride is here!" and briefly noted movement in the corner (as it turned out, someone snuck in to watch -- although to Shady Sean's credit, he didn't know about it) before running out the door and walking home.

Shady Sean didn't call me after that night, nor did he make an effort to see me. He did, in fact, absolutely nothing. And my dating-related self-esteem was bad enough -- and I was not experienced enough to not confuse hooking up and emotion -- that I didn't respect myself enough to see that he was a total shithead (who, as it would later turn out, had a long-term girlfriend). And so it was that I hooked up with him off and on for the next SIX YEARS. Really.

I'm proud to say that I never slept with him; it was always a point of pride with me that he might have some of me, but never all of me. But I'm less proud that I didn't respect my feelings and body enough to cut a bad person out from touching it for that long.

All of that said, I do respect myself now -- and started to long before now -- and I definitely learned a lot from the experience. Which I suppose, is always the point. It's just a shame that it sometimes takes a head-pusher to spur the lesson-learning...!

--------------------

This was my first entry in the GBBMC 2008 extravaganza, which benefits RAINN and is being held in support of that great organization and Carly's fabulous new book. You can read more about the campaign here and can find a list of all participants here.

I'm alive (or: busy, but fine)

I've been feeling guilty for not posting, so I thought I'd explain (as if the readers of this blog have been kept awake at night, wondering, "where is Sandra?!"). See, work has been busy. Insanely busy. Very, very, very busy. There has been traveling. And work. And traveling. And work. And I just haven't had time to do much else but shower.

I should emerge from the work later this week. Yay.

I could not possibly be more excited (or: me + Jon = massive goodness)

I'm trying to stop myself from telling everyone I pass on the street that I'M GOING TO SEE JON STEWART TOMORROW!!!!

I wonder if his wife will mind that we're going to get married after the show?

I'm a big copycat (or: 100 Lifetime moments)

I'm resisting the urge to write about my current state of Boy-related smittenness in any level of detail, for fear that history will repeat itself and he'll turn out to be gay. Or crazy. Or dating someone else. Or an ass. Or something. So I'm going to keep that to myself for now, except to say that there is smittenness and gushing and it is likely rather nauseating to all people within shouting (or emailing) distance of me.

What I'm going to do instead is rip off an idea Alissa ripped off of Maggie, and list out the 100 moments I hope flash through my eyes when I'm on my deathbed A LONG TIME FROM NOW.

The first 25...

1. Watching my grandparents hold hands on the way back to the car following a Christmas Eve party last December.

2. Kendal, my five-year-old niece, beating the crap out of me with pillows and burying me in a pile of them while laughing her little head off.

3. Watching my brother and sister-in-law get married.

4. 'Happy Hour' on the boat with The Gex, when we lived together the summer after college.

5. Falling asleep with Katie, on the deck of her parents cottage on Lake Michigan, listening to The Beach Boys, when we were little.

6. Delaney, my 1.5-year-old niece, sleeping on me during my dad's wedding.

7. Laughing until it hurt, and until I nearly peed myself, after me and Sarah (college roommate for two years) somehow shorted out the electrical system in my car, causing all sorts of blinking lights and weird sounds -- while in the drive-thru line -- while searching for change to pay for McDonalds fries in college.

8. Eating pizza and cookies with Alissa while watching For The Love of Nancy on Lifetime.

9. Walking with my dad and his dog in the woods.

10. Laughing until I cried with my mom, at the decor in a hotel room we stayed in on the way (driving) from Detroit to San Francisco.

11. Drinking wine from coffee mugs and watching bad TV on the brown couch with Jacynth and Elliott in SF.

12. Dancing at the Bondi Beach Hotel with Jacynth.

13. Sitting on our porch in college, surrounded by friends, drinking crappy beer and eating off the grill.

14. The trip back from Albion in college, with Dani, Kristi and Karen, when we were all so tired that EVERYTHING was hilarious.

15. Eating green bean casserole with Barber on the front porch of my parents house, at 3 a.m.

16. Going through the drive-thru backward in Pete's giant brown car, because the door and window on the driver's side didn't open.

17. Watching Talledega Nights with my brother while drinking 40s.

18. Wrapping myself in Christmas lights, along with Mike, in college -- and continuing to keep them on after getting mildly shocked.

19. Screaming for ER from the bathroom, while laughing, after realizing I'd pulled part of the toilet off in an effort to get it to stop overflowing.

20. Eating take-out Thai food and drinking wine with Max on Bondi Beach in Sydney.

21.  Laughing after falling off a stool the Sunday before St. Patrick's Day in San Francisco with Vicki.

22. Giving a lost guy directions, and knowing they were right (for the first time), in NYC.

23. Eating...everything...at the Survivor finale BBQ we had at me/Suzanne/Steph's place in Chicago.

24. My first kiss.

25. Doing yoga on the beach with Carly during our fabulous Caribbean cruise.

To each their own? (or: really, really, REALLY friggin' long hair)

On the way home last night, on the subway, something caught my eye. And for the next 15 minutes or so, I was both transfixed and alarmed, for the something was...well, kind of gross to me...but probably a source of great pride for -- and perhaps a great treasure to -- its owner.

I am referring to the hair of the woman pictured below (courtesy of a sneaky cameraphone shot). I can't even imagine how long she has been growing it -- because what you can't see is that it's super-thick, and dreaded (at least at the top), and that she did not divide it into two even parts and insert one into each side of the pink thingy. Oh no. In fact, it appeared that the pink casing went from the bottom to the top of her hair -- like a hair condom -- and that she had it doubled back and  pinned at the top.

On the way to the subway this morning... (or: just plain wow)

I was on the way to the subway this morning, earbuds firmly in place and my earworm of the week playing away, when I thought I heard someone calling to me. And so, I paused my iPod, took the earbuds out and got to have the following exchange. Classic.

Drunk Guy #1: Girl! Girl in the boots! You like anal beads?

Me: (laughing)

Drunk Guy #1: You not gonna answer me?

Drunk Guy #2: I think she likes anal beads AND being handcuffed during booty time.

Girl near me on sidewalk: (laughing, to me) You good?

Me: (to girl) I'm fine, thanks.

Drunk Guy #1: You BOTH want the anal beads and handcuffs? I got pink ones.

Me: Is that a bonus?

Drunk Guy #2: I'm the bonus.

Me: (laughing) Not this early in the morning, sorry.

Drunk Guy #2: Later, then?

Me: Nope, 'fraid not.

Drunk Guy #1: They'd be real big anal beads!

Girl near me on sidewalk: (to me) I'm not sure that's a bonus.

Me and Random Girl walk into the subway station...

Peaks, valleys and the land in between (or: grief)

It has been exactly 42 days since my Papa died. Most of those days -- like most of this past weekend, which I spent with friends, having fun and reminding myself of what a fantastic life I've built for myself in New York and just how fun and...fabulous...my friends are -- have been amazing.

Other days, or at least portions of them, have been hard; I've had to fight back tears on the subway, choke back a cry in a client meeting, try to avoid being weepy in line at the grocery store and regain  mental/emotional control when sitting on the couch in my apartment, alone.

And a lot of the time, often when I'm in motion, I think about stillness. About standing in the room with my Papa after he passed away, looking down at a man I knew as so full of life and knowing that he would never again move -- or be moved, for that matter.

It has occurred to me that when my amazing grandfather, who was so much more than that to me, lost his ability to breathe, it made it periodically hard for me to do the same.

It is hard, and getting through this is honestly the most difficult thing I've ever had to do, but I know I will. And I know that the fact that this is so difficult is an amazing testament to the kind of person he was and how deeply I cared -- and care -- for him. But fuck if it doesn't feel impossible sometimes.