Monchichi!

Kristen and I have been told by several different people, and on many different occassions that we are looking more and more like each other (No, this is not a situation similar to SWF).  We all know that I started out with some long curly hair, but really I had wanted to cut it for a very long time.  It was one of those things that other people pressured me about.  "Don't cut off that beautiful hair!"  Everyone seemed to have the same opinion until I met my wife.  She and I had similar thoughts on the issue, so before I knew it I was sporting a faux hawk similar to the one that she had worn for so many years.  Perhaps some people thought that was a little odd, but we thought it was cute to have similar styles, and we both thought that it suited me just fine.

Last night Kristen and I decided to buzz cut my hair.  It was no more than a minute or two and...voila!  So now my hair is officially shorter than Kristen's.  We laughed heartily as the clippers moved across my head and then we both had to take showers because of the little clippings stuck all over us.  We got ready for bed and then I noticed that Kristen was smirking at me.  "What?"  I wondered what she was thinking.

"Do you remember those little fuzzy-headed dolls from when we were kids?"

Instantly I knew what she was talking about.  "Monchichis!"

We both started laughing so hard.  I knew that she was insinuating that I looked like one.  Well, at least she reassured me that she thinks they are so cute!

I found this picture this morning on the web and I thought that I should share it with all of my loyal fans out there.  Below is a photo of me and my blushing bride...complete with crewcut and faux hawk.

What a Relief!

Oh my god, I am so relieved!  After spending Friday night in the hospital...my first hospital stay in adulthood...I was finally checked and cleared for any abnormalities in my heart.  Seriously, thank god.

I can't believe that I lived for years worried about this problem and I know that others are living in fear, too.  My hope today is that someone else out there may read this blog and go and seek the answers that they are entitled to.  I know that for me, I finally got to a point where I just had to have an answer, even if the news was very grim.  I do believe that not knowing is the worst part.  How many days did I live filled with unnecessary stress and fear?  I know that I have issues with anxiety, but I can tell all of you that I was truly scared of dropping dead.  Really, so sad.

I think everyone knows how much I love Kristen, but really I feel like she has saved my life.  Because of her understanding and love I was brave enough to finally speak up and get some help.  When my mother asked me why I had never said anything about the pain I was having, I actually told her that I didn't care about my life so much before Kristen.  But now that I have found her, I want to spend every moment loving her the way that she deserves to be loved.  I feel brand new.  I feel like I have been given another chance to live my life to the fullest with someone by my side who wants the same things and is motivated to follow their heart as well.  I feel like we can do anything!  I know we can.

So this blog is written today for everyone out there who has a worry and needs to get help.  It doesn't have to be related to chest pain or even any medical problem.  Maybe you just need an answer to something nagging at your consciousness.  I hope that you may find the courage to step forward and find your answer.  I hope that you may have that special person in your life that motivates you to do the difficult things that make a difference.

Have a Heart.

It has been several years, maybe as many as seven or eight, that I have had pain in my chest / shoulder / back.  When I was in my late twenties I couldn't imagine having something wrong with my heart.  It just didn't seem possible.  I was always very active, worked out at the gym or did karate almost every single day, so I didn't understand how I could possibly be having chest pain.  At first I simply ignored it, never said a word about it to anyone.  When the tiny, sharp pains would shoot through my left shoulder I would just try to sit still and breathe very lightly.  Sometimes they would last more than a few minutes, and there were times that I was really nervous. 

Over the years I have put on weight and then took it off again, but always worked out consistently.  I have had my blood pressure checked and it is always on the low side, never high.  My cholesterol levels have been on the borderline of being an issue, but I have always taken consideration to keep them under control. 

So for the past few weeks these pains in my chest have been very much constant, mostly remaining a dull ache, of which I am always aware, but sometimes really giving me trouble.  At night I sometimes have to lie on my right side and put my left arm up over my head to find any relief.  I breathe very carefully and hope than the sharp pains will subside.  Kristen has not known any of this.

Finally, on Wednesday night I confessed to what has been going on. 

And so yesterday began the journey into figuring out what is wrong.  We started out at urgent care and ended up in the ER...two electrocardiograms, one chest x-ray, but still no answer.  Now that I have told someone about this problem, I just want to have an answer.  I can't believe that I have worried about this for years.  I have a lot of variables on my side...age, relatively good health, I don't smoke, but who knows how this will all turn out.

Write On, Right On!

In addition to working on several drawings lately and a couple of canvases, I have also been doing some writing.  I did, afterall, go to college to do just that, but it has become one of those things that I have a lot of good intentions about, but not a whole lot of follow through.  In the past I have written many, many short stories and on occasion kept a pretty honest journal, but what I am writing now goes far beyond any of my other projects.

I have decided to write about my childhood, all of those things...good or bad, that have shaped the person that I am today.  I don't often share my work with anyone until it is completed.  I never really painted in front of another person until I met Kristen, and similarly, only Kristen has read what I have so far.

I wasn't planning to blog about this journey, but I feel as though this is truly what is current in my life, so now you know!

The Therapeutic Brush

For as long as I can remember my artwork has been a way for me to express my innermost feelings without ever speaking a word.  Some of the earlieast photos of me capture a toddler with a pad of paper and crayons.  Growing up, my parents often reminded me how quiet I was, but I never really thought they cared about what I had to say.  When I was very little I was painfully shy and so being quiet was the norm, and then I remained quite silent throughout my teenage years.  I always felt disconnected in some ways to the hustle and bustle that many people live every day, but my energy and spark was still alive; it was just focused internally.  I have always been able to lose myself in my own head, whether imagining vibrant colors streaming together or listening to my own music that only I can hear.  I am quiet, but I am aware.

The artwork that I am working on now is very close to my heart.  Some of it has been rattling around in my head for years, tumbling like damp clothes in a dryer.  I have kept it there, safely on the low-heat cycle, waiting for a time when I would be ready to wear it.  I think that time is coming up fast.  My sketch book has recently been updated.  I have several canvases primed.

As much as would like to have the world love my artwork, I know that I paint for myself first.  I think that as an artist, I must not ever be stagnant; change is the only real constant.  What I painted yesterday, what I paint today, what I paint tomorrow...I will never paint these things again.  It happens only once.  That is what makes it art.  That is what makes it personal.  That is what makes it mine.  That is what makes it MAHTOH.