Here's What I Watched in 2021

Have you been watching all the things on television? I have tried, but there is so much "must watch" tv and so many different platforms I have to put in as much energy into watching TV as I do at my job. It's a confusing time for so many reasons and watching tv should not be. Here's what I watched and loved in 2021:

1. Succession is an HBO show about a ruthless media magnate, (Is there any other kind?) Logan Roy, who built his empire and a family to fear and work hard for his affection. Creating insecure minions and children that hope to one day inherit the business in the process. Of the three siblings I was drawn to Siobhan. A stylish political operative with a good heart. She seemed like the obvious choice as the successor, but as the series develops, we learn that Siobhan is more like her father and brothers than she led us to believe!

2. The Mandolorian is a member of the Star Wars universe, of which I am not well-versed. However, you don't need to be a fan of the George Lucas phenomenon to fall for the ubiquitous BABY YODA. Like animals and infants, he is nonverbal. All his emotion is revealed through the giant eyes in his wrinkled, green face. The first season is good, clean fun, with action and adventure galore. By the time the second season finale comes around you'll be (1) wondering how they were able to keep that secret; (2) thanking whatever magic makes CGI work and; (3) looking forward to seeing Mr. Pascal in more stuff.

3. Star Trek Discovery is the Star Trek little Black girls have been waiting for our whole lives. The first in the series from the perspective one of the ship's officers instead of the Captain. There's an important Vulcan storyline that will leave you gasping for air. Most importantly there's Sonequa Martin who is reminding us to trust ourselves more than anything else each time she is on screen. 

4. Sense 8 is a Netflix show by the Wachowski sisters that I ignored for years. There was a lot of talk about it, but nothing about it resonated with me. A close friend encouraged me to get past the first few episodes and IGNORE the Daryl Hannah character altogether, and instead focus on the broader international themes, diversity and relationships. Once I did that, I was in love with the story of human connection, love, sex and adventure. 

5. The Expanse in a space odyssey. I don't get to use the word odyssey enough. The Expanse is well, expansive. It begins with a missing woman and a quirky detective hundreds of years in the future, but as the final episode of the sixth season approaches, we find our characters at the far reaches of the universe fighting each other for survival against an unknown foe. 

This list is by no means exhaustive. Admiral mentions goes to What We Do in the Shadows, The Mayans, and Pose.

Here's What I Read in 2021

I have tried different methods of expression in this space. One year I posted every day for the final days of the year. It was fun and an excellent way to send off the year. I have been thinking about posting every day for the first five days of the year to see what follows but, I am not securely attached to the concept just yet. For now, let's dig into what distracted me from my work and childrearing.

Here's my top five books of 2021 in a very particular order of preference:

1. The Book of Longings: A Novel by Sue Monk Kidd

I could go on ad nauseum about this book but believe me it is better to savor the beauty of it with your own eyeballs and heart. It's a deep meditation on the nature of self-confidence, motherhood and history. It is the book I didn't know I needed. I look forward to reading more Sue Monk Kidd. 

2. The Hemingses of Monticello: An American Family by Annette Gordon-Reed

Annette Gordon-Reed won the 2008 Pulitzer for History and the National Book Award for Nonfiction for this. She thoroughly researched four generations of the African American Hemings family from their African and Virginian origins until the death of Thomas Jefferson their master and the father of Sally Hemings' children. But this book is so much more than that. It's also about the origins of slavery in this country and the structure of racism revealing the stark truth that race is a social construct.

3. Both/And: A Life in Many Worlds by Huma Abedin

Yes, you know Huma. Not to be confused with Amal Clooney British-Lebanese attorney who is married to George Clooney. Huma is an American political operative (aspiring politician?) with Indian and Pakistani heritage that is famous for working with Hillary Clinton and her marriage to disgraced former congressman Anthony Weiner. Her exotic looks, eclectic background and ability to stay below the radar made this a thirst quenching read. How did she create such an extraordinary career? Why did she marry and stay married to that guy? She answered all the questions with compassion, grace and vulnerability.

4. This Tender Land by William Kent Krueger

A colleague at my office handed me this book and said read it. I work with engineers, a very smart lot. It is very common for folks to drop books on my desk with one word: READ. This was a difficult novel to get into. It's about a little white boy growing up in one of the Native American conversion schools during the Depression era that have been in the news recently. It's gritty, grueling subject matter. Racism, physical and sexual abuse of MINORS, family secrets and tragedies. Not the sort of book I thought a middle-aged lady at my office would hand me with strong insistence I should read. I trudged through the first several chapters asking myself why this book written, why did Debbie recommend it, and why to me. I also wondered why she liked it. Once you have a child, consuming art that puts children in harm's way can be a harrowing experience. Then one day Albert gets bit by a snake, and everything comes into sharp focus, and you don't want the story to end. 

5. The Midnight Library by Matt Haig

Another book plopped on my desk with instructions to read. This one is about 30-something Nora whose life is filled with disappointment and regret. Feeling rudderless, useless and unaccomplished she tries to commit suicide. Gawd have his mercy. I gave this book, and Candice the side-eye for leaving it on my desk. WTH is this depressing, morose British novel doing on my desk I wondered. My boss also recommended this book, so I got started and WOW! It's about the paths not taken. It's about infinite possibilities. It's about never giving up because success is often just around the bend.

Next time on the Cat Who Swallowed the Canary: What I watched 2021

My Pay-It-Forward Mocha

During my Italian years I didn't drink much coffee. I kept my caffeine intake mostly to a minimum. Don't get me wrong, I could be seen sipping capuccini as a mid-morning pick me up a few times a week as well as indulging in the occasional after dinner espresso. The thing is the coffee in Italy is strong and would often keep me up at night if I had drank it too late in the morning. 

Back stateside, I opt for the Starbucks Hibiscus tea. It's light, refreshing and reminds of something my Guyanese parents call sorrel. To my grave dismay, hibiscus tea is almost impossible to come by during a pandemic. Enjoying a Starbucks beverage with friends and colleagues has become an American pastime. It's become a crucial element to the work-life balance construct. 

With the shortage of hibiscus tea, I opted for the ubiquitous mocha Frappuccino with a Fox Cake Pop as my go to Starbucks order. I don't crave either of these as much as they have become something I do. That all changed last week.

I live in a booming area of the Southeast. In the four years that I have lived in Savannah, we have seen new projects such as a hospital, a major supermarket, two gas stations and two exclusive apartment complexes, one with a salt water pool, arrive. Rumors were rampant about Starbucks' arrival. That day came approximately one month ago.

I established a routine a few months ago that included a workout at the YMCA followed by a mocha Frappuccino at a local cafe. Feeling proud to support a local business, I went back every week after my workout. I decided to shake it up a bit last week by stopping at the newly opened Starbucks. I ordered my standard mocha Frappuccino and Fox Pop. With my credit card at the ready, I approached the window to pay. That's when having a Starbucks beverage transitioned from a having a routine caffeinated beverage to a deeply satisfying experience that lit up my prefrontal cortex. 

When I approached the window to pay, the Starbucks associate let me know that the customer before me PAID FOR MY ORDER. She was giddy. I thought I misheard her, but I hadn't. The car before me paid for my order. Bewildered, I asked if this was a "thing". I had heard about pay-it-forward scenarios, but had never been intimately involved. She confirmed that for the last few minutes customers were paying for the cars behind them. I became giddy as well, and paid for the car behind me, which by the way, was less than my order.

That was the best mocha Frappuccino I ever had. It has become almost impossible to drive by that Starbucks without stopping. Clever marketing ploy or delightful happenstance? I may never know. What I do know is it felt euphoric paying it forward!

 

That time I got the COVID-19 vaccine was the worst...

I woke up sexy AF again. Last time on TCWSTC I was recovering from the second dose of the most expensive vaccine in history. Remember that? Well, I can't forget it. I have a great reason for keeping it fresh in my memory. I said I was on the mend but, I was sick for another TWO WEEKS. I had most if not all of the side effects for two weeks. I couldn't eat. I had no appetite. The sight of food made me nauseous. Inside my mouth everything tasted like ash or like I had been chewing it forever and still couldn't swallow. I had brain fog. I couldn't remember basics like how to talk. My thoughts came slowly. Searching my brain for words and concepts was a strangeness I disliked. I was also emotional because I didn't want folks to worry. I put on a brave face at work but, thought I was dying slowly every day for two whole weeks. I'm not altogether sure how I survived it. I had neighbors help one afternoon when I was too sick to drive to pick Hunter up from the YMCA. Then I forgot I asked her to help and wondered out to the driveway in my pajamas. 

sick but alive

I did the best I could for two weeks, which fortunately was good enough to take care of me and Hunter. According to some anecdotal research, my response is typical if you had COVID previously. Insert eyeball emoji here. There was the trip to Amelia Island in early February last year before things got crazy that I got sick. Not much of a cough, but most of the other symptoms. It was still too early to think it was seriously COVID, but it does make sense of how hard the side effects hit me. 

Thankfully, I had a full and robust recovery. Things are back to normal here. Traffic is everywhere. Most people have stopped wearing masks and those floor stickers warning us to stay six feet apart are finally gone. Sometimes there are specific food shortages at the supermarket. Apparently, cat food is a low priority for manufacturers, and gas prices are steadily creeping up. Things are certainly in recovery. We are in a much better place than we were this time last year. The delta variant may be cause for the return to hypervigilance, but as always taking it one day at a time. 

This Whole Time I Just Needed Tylenol

The Covid-19 virus has presented opportunities for growth everywhere. Some call them challenges. Others refer to them as "fucked up shit". I have weathered the storms with best of them, but I spent last night in a place I call the dark night of the soul.

As is customary on this blog my course of vaccinations were not without a healthy dose of drama. In this case perhaps too much drama. My first dose of the Moderna vaccine was approximately one month ago. My allergist contacted to me to say my asthma qualified me to get my first shot. Up until that moment I was unsure if I wanted the vaccine. High falutin' ideas such as "heard immunity" and  "I'll wait and see how it goes" made me feel safe-ish. But when I got that call images of me frolicking in the west village, and parading down Eastern Parkway as I made my way to the Brooklyn Museum flooded my consciousness and I said yes please.

Yet, when the day arrived my needle phobia crept in. How bad is going to hurt? My inside voice replied, "Bad, really bad. It will be worse that vaginal childbirth that one time in north Italy just outside of Venice. This time without the epidural." I shuddered at the thought. I held fast to my visions of frolic and parades. I kept my arm loose as I caught sight of the syringe. The reality that I was about to receive the most expensive vaccine in history, and had the privilege to ponder if I should take it washed over me. It was over before I had time to think much more about it.

A month later I headed back to receive my second dose. I was not feeling well. We have had a spate of dry weather here and my allergy symptoms were severe. When I arrived I asked if I should postpone since I was already not feeling well. The nurse assured me that once I did not have a fever I was fine to proceed with my second dose. Disappointed I shuffled into the room where I waited. So much has been said about the second dose producing a "robust" reaction. I was concerned, and thought about leaving, but I stayed.

This needle I felt. I also felt liquid dripping down my arm. The nurse asked if I was on blood thinners. I'm not, but I have been taking Tylenol for my allergy induced headache. She explained that Tylenol can act as a blood thinner. As blood sprayed and streamed out of my arm I thought of all the times I needed to give blood and it never came. This whole time I just needed Tylenol.

She applied two band-aids and cleaned my arm up and the rest of the room that resembled a small crime scene. I waited the allotted 15 minutes then headed home. I awoke the next morning feeling a bit foggy. By the time I made it to the office the next day I had body aches. At home I had teeth chattering chills, and deep bone aches. My chest burned and then got heavy. My eyes were dry and gritty. My stomach was wracked with pains I don't have words for. I contemplated calling 911 when my chest got heavy, but I waited it out as I tried to manifest an oxygen mask. I drifted between wake and sleep and at 3:40 am I exploded into a cold sweat. I woke up, dried off, and slowly began to join the ranks of the living. I worked a full day. Not much of an appetite, but certainly on the mend. 

  

The Mask Under the Mask

Last time on the Cat Who Swallowed the Canary we were talking Paul, the Guides and transmutational incantations. Sounds like I got your attention, and we could possibly be off to the races. Let's see where were we? Ahh yes, I was watching a mid-season episode of the Amazon Prime original "The Boys" starring none other than Karl Urban aka Xena's nemesis Caesar. I enjoy watching Karl, hoping to catch a glimpse of Caesar behind his eyes. The show is a gritty take on a parallel universe in which superheroes are flawed creatures hardened by heartache and power trips. Nothing in the show signaled I should have been monitoring for a trauma trigger.

There was a hijacked plane and Homelander and Maeve were dispatched to stop the hijackers and bring the plane and the 173 passengers home. I was stuck on the plane hijacking part, which in retrospect was a warning. I thought: No one hijacks planes anymore. You see what covid-19 has done to us? Now when I watch a television show about hijacked planes, I think ha, that sort of thing doesn't happen anymore. The security and health risks make it almost impossible, but also it's a different world since 9/11. This was my second clue to back away from this episode, but I ignored the internal signal.

Then the superheroes were on the plane to disarm the Arab terrorists. Really, in 2020 we are still stereotyping Arabs as terrorists? It's such a cliched trope at this point. This couldn't happen anymore but, I digress. Suddenly the rescue mission went sideways, and the plane and the passengers were doomed. The plane was freefalling, and the director and the set designer were doing a phenomenal job of creating tension and drama as the superheroes as well as the passengers realize the plane is falling too fast and the superheroes can't save them. That's when it happened. 

Suddenly I was back to 9/11 2001 hearing the whoosh of the plane come in too close and explode into the second tower. Then I was in the plane, not "The Boys" plane. Not the plane that crashed into the tower, but the one that was headed to the Pentagon. The one the passengers fought the terrorists for, and crashed in the field. I could hear the men hatching the plan to stop the hijackers and right before execution of the their plan the fatal last words "let's roll." 

The last thing I remember was throwing the remote, and going to the bathroom to try to calm down, and ground myself. Use your tools I heard a dear friend whisper in my head. I failed. I came back to the couch and fell into a catatonic state. I was in the throes of a panic attack I have not experienced in YEARS. It was intense. I was in that plane. I could hear the chaos and feel the cold bite of fear and knowing death was inevitable. I lay on the couch blinking, jerking for a few minutes as I stared out at the paused tv screen. 

Terror doesn't describe it. Fear does no justice. I was in that plane. I went on like this for a few minutes. I'm not sure how long it was in actuality but, it felt like an eternity. All I could do was hold on like one does on a roller coaster you know will end if you just hold on. Eventually I came back to my body. I went to the refrigerator and grabbed the buy-one-get-one-free cantaloupe chunks I bought last week. The chunks were cool and sweet as I sunk my teeth into them. The chilled sensation helped bring me back into my body. The sweetness helped soothe my dry mouth. Chew-swallow, chew-swallow, chew-swallow, I went on like this for a few minutes until I could see the bottom of the bowl. I drank some water and went to bed feeling disappointed that I had reverted back to my trauma place. I spent a few minutes as the host of my pity party. Kicking myself for believing I was better and healed. For goodness sakes I wasn't even on that plane. That wasn't even the plane I watched explode into a ball of flaming madness that would haunt my dreams and waking hours years later. The horror of the faces running at me as they ran from the explosion. That wasn't even the plane. I kept saying to myself. 

I had work the next morning, and all I could do was concentrate on the day. Concentrate harder than I have in a long time. At first I tried NOT to think about it, but that required thinking about what I was not thinking about. I managed to create some distance between myself and the plane. The one I watched explode, the one that crashed in the field and the one on "The Boys", but now I was teetering on the memory of the panic attack itself. The potency of it scared me. It had an all-consuming mind of its own. As it surfaced in my memory I approached it as one does a hot pan from the oven. Tentatively touching it: are you hot? Or a dead vs. sleeping body: are you alive? You rush in. Stop short. Touch. Pull away. Wait to see if it burns or stirs. Was that panic attack real? It threatened to get me if touched it. I left it alone. I made it through the work day.  A placid expression sealed onto my face. Serene, focused, pleasant. The mask under the mask.  

At home I couldn't resist the reality. Was that real last night? The panic creeped toward me full of doom, power and foreboding like a CAT 4 hurricane or typhoon or other diluvial natural disasters that we ignored for too long and now threatens the known universe and all in it.  

I am working with a teacher/coach. We discussed the panic attack and its perverse intensity. She had insight to share during our regularly scheduled session. The work we have been doing over the past few months has made me more permeable. Meaning I have more access to my emotions. I described it as a tourniquet being removed. I had to stanch a plethora of emotions after 9/11 in order to move forward. The stoppage was supposed to be a temporary solution, but it became a way of life; a bad habit if you will. I closed off increasingly more emotions. Before long, most of who I was lay on the other side of the tourniquet, dammed at the barrier.

The meditation practices, the knowing Paul and the guides are encouraging are loosening the tourniquet. Long held back feelings are rushing through me. I have feelings in my extremities again. I recognize conflict in myself and thoughts. I see things as they are, and as I want them to be. Most of all I have a deep knowing that I am present to my being and know that others are in some version of this knowing too. The path through the wilderness of growth is unknowable, but companionship of others fills me with joy beyond measure. 

They Cause Gentle Ripples on Your Skin

I considered "2020 so wack" as a potential title for this post. Or "the great pandemic of 2020". However, there is no certainty that this will be over in 2020 because (1) folks are afraid to take the vaccine. Yep, I said it #facts. And (2) let's be honest, there is nothing great about it unless you look through the lens of opportunity, and progress. I am referring to both the broad societal reckoning, and all the things we are facing as we shelter in place together, alone.

July was my one-year anniversary at my first "real" job since returning to the States. And by real I mean it provides financial and social advantages such as a steady paycheck, 401(k) benefits, on site medical attention that includes prescriptions, and intellectual stimulation also known as stretching. 

In the few hours that I am not working, I spend time thinking about how to meet my unmet needs. I always need things, but the pandemic brought them into high relief. I have always been a seeker. Whether it is of knowledge, adventure, realization or love I have always been searching for a better way to understand myself. In truth we all are.

I took steps over the course of the last few months to embrace the search, and the payoffs are what I am here to share. It's a departure from my usual topics, but it remains in the vein of expression of self-worth and my passion for travel. It's also an invitation to join me because traveling alone can be fun but, travelling companions certainly deepen the experience. 

This all started with a few podcasts, first shaman to the stars: Shaman Durek, and as revelations are wont to do, his podcast led me to another. Aubrey Marcus fitness and gym guru led me to Paul Selig. Paul is a channel and the first time you experience his channeling it will be weird. This is Aubrey's word not mine. I would describe it as confusing at first because the being he is channeling, yes the being, is whispering to him and then he is repeating what was whispered. It is best described as an echo. What peaked my interest quickly became all consuming. I repeated the words he asked me to repeat. It wasn't quite a command, but his voice definitely has some bass to it. I didn't have anything to lose by saying a few words, I began "I know who I am. I know who I am in truth." Tingles gently rippled across my skin. I later learned the words are more than just words. The words are coded with vibrational accord. 

Dear reader I know you are wondering what the words in the previous sentence mean when they are strung together. My suggestion is to experience Paul Selig for yourself. With an open mind I think you will feel the gentle ripples on your skin too.

In the meantime, I did what any red-blooded American who was inspired by a double talking, middle age bearded man speaking about vibrations, truths and mystical teachings would do. I googled him. I didn't find a whole lot. At least nothing that deterred my interest. All I could say for sure was the words shifted the energy in and around me. When my younger cousin called in crisis a few weeks ago I encouraged her to repeat after me as I said them. Days later she called to thank me for making time to talk to her. She struggled to describe what sounded like ripples and a new awareness to my ear. She said, "Mickie remember when I called you last week and you told me to say some words? I don't remember the words. I just know they helped me." 

There are books. Several of them. They are not linear, and neither is time according to the teachings, but you interpret as you wish. I chose to begin with the audiobook, "The Book of Freedom". What's it about you ask? My efforts to describe the book feel like trying to explain the flavor of an avocado or fresh shrimp to someone who has never had either. Avocado is more about texture than any specific flavor. Same goes for shrimp, unless it's bad, but we are not here to talk about shrimp gone bad. Perhaps it's like trying to explain sex to someone who has never had it.

"The Book of Freedom" is about life, but not the life we live. Instead it's about the life we presuppose people who are special, richer, more famous, more beautiful live. It's about those people that are happier than us. That are more in love than us. That is until TMZ shows them doing something crazy such as running into a salon to shave their head, and you realize we are all here making mistakes, falling off the wagon, and making a mess.

With all this learning. I began to feel grounded and unshakeable and prepared for whatever would come next because one of the teachings of the Guides communicating through Paul is there is no destination. There is no end. It's all journey. I began to wonder how I would fare when an opportunity for growth came my way. That's how I describe challenges now: opportunities for growth. I was excited to put the vibrational accords into action. And then there I was in the middle of the first season of the Amazon Prime original, The Boys, when opportunity knocked.

Until next time on The Cat Who Swallowed the Canary.