Ang's Journal

There are lots of people who get lost in a lifetime. Friends with whom you lose contact, classmates that graduate & are never heard from again, family members that stop staying in touch. There are many more celebrities or known-only-indirectly people that prompt that musing query, "I wonder where [so-&-so] went!"

For me, today I was wondering about Mishell Baker, author of the Arcadia Project trilogy, which follows the career of Millie Roper, a former Hollywood director who survived a suicide attempt & is trying to get on with life. I really enjoyed this series for its compassionate portrayal of several characters with serious mental health disorders. Additionally, it's a really imaginative urban fantasy setting with a nifty take on fae.

This morning I finished listening to the audiobook version of the last book in the trilogy (Imposter Syndrome) & that question bubbled up: "I wonder what Mishell Baker is up to - has she written anything new?" A quick Google search &....

...she hasn't. Last fall she was diagnosed with Stage 4 metastatic appendiceal cancer. She's undergone surgery & several rounds of chemo & is doing well, for certain understandings of "well". She's keeping a blog following her cancer journey - & it is AMAZINGLY uplifting to read. Mishell has made a deep commitment to being happy & contributing to the good of the world for as long as she is able - which may be 2 years, possibly 10 years. I have a ton of respect for this decision.

So Mishell has gone down a dark & unexpected road, but she's doing so with hope & joy to light the way. I think Millie Roper would be proud of her.

This weekend has been somber, but the fact of the matter is, life does continue. To quote Watership Down again, "Would that the dead were not dead!" But life is still here & must be lived - to do otherwise does no honour to the dead & does great dishonour to the living. So.

Yesterday I distracted myself from the realization that I was missing Mark's funeral with relentless work. All assignments that are due this week: done. Bank account: balanced. Room: cleaned. Laundry: finished. I was a whirling dervish, never settling for more than five minutes, because every time I did so, I'd feel my brain start to close down ... so move, move, MOVE. It worked, sort of. I finally fell asleep around 2:00 AM.

Today, I went to a new church, Kirk'O'Fields Parish Church, which is right down the street from my hall. It was so much better than St Giles. True, it was tiny, & true, the congregation was small, but at least a dozen people introduced themselves to me, as did the pastor, & they have Bible study classes, & they sang hymns in English instead of Latin .... much better experience. I prayed for Mark's family & friends & felt genuine relief & healing in doing so.

Then, since the day was so beautiful, Selina (who lives on my floor) & I decided to hike up Arthur's Seat, the peak that totally dominates the eastern skyline of Edinburgh. We made it to the top, with assistance (& interference, depending on which direction we were facing) from the relentless wind. The wind is also responsible for my avant-garde hairstyle.


Caption: Mary Poppins would be in Norway by now.

Last night featured the return of the worst recurring nightmare I've ever had. I first had this dream when I was a senior in high school, & it has tormented me on & off since then. But I hadn't had it in YEARS.

Here's the plot: I'm sitting in a straight-backed wooden chair that's in the center of an immense room (so large I cannot see the walls or the ceiling, but somehow I still know I'm indoors). I hear footsteps approaching me from behind. Eventually, a man appears on my right, about 15 feet away from me. He is medium height, with short black hair, green eyes, & a completely neutral expression on his face. He is dressed in a conservative black outfit, & is carrying a silver handgun in his left hand, which he keeps pointed at the floor. He paces around me in a semicircle, watching me the whole time but saying nothing. When he comes all the way round to my left side, he approaches me, puts the gun to my temple, & says, "Are you ready?"

Now the horrifying part of this dream is that I always answer, "Yes" & then he shoots me in the head. I've had this dream many times, so I always know what's coming. The minute I start hearing his footsteps, I'm screaming in my head, "NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!" But my suicidal dream-self answers in the affirmative anyway.

I hate this dream.