How did you end up here?

The last few weeks have been a whirlwind of events! I dragged my exhausted ass (barely) across the summer semester finish line and passed both courses. To celebrate, my friends from school and I pigged out at the Cheesecake Factory. National Cheesecake Day=1/2 off all cheesecake happened to fall on the day of our finals. It was fate. From there I said my good-byes and hopped on a plane back to Sonoma County for my 2 week break before the official move back to Long Beach. As I've learned and stated before, it is best to never assume how an event or experience is going to play out and especially never assume how you are going to respond to said event or experience. I wasn't prepared to return.

A few days before I returned to Sonoma County I found out that Ally is pregnant. The vet had been unsure due to her small size (from being malnourished) and previous constipation, but with the ultrasound it was confirmed that there are two little furries growing in the belly. Quickly after the confirmation, the very sweet but adamant vet pushed for an abortion. I wasn't expecting the emotions that came with this suggestion/request. She said "We can schedule her first thing in the morning." She explained everything that I have always known and stood for. There are so many homeless animals on this planet, so many unwanted and suffering. Why allow 2 more? I looked at the vet and said, "I know you're going to think I'm a complete asshole and and a hypocrite, but I just can't do it." What ensued was me unloading everything from the past year onto her. I explained some recent painful events, how much courage and strength it took for me to decide to move to Long Beach to attend mortuary college and lastly how unexpected it was for me to be living alone in this new city for my first semester. I explained how Ally had given me a reason to come home after a long day of school and had been my only form of physical support on some very lonely nights. She was the warm body who laid next to me all night, who sat on my homework as I was trying to complete it and watched me fall apart and pull myself together on numerous occasions. It had become a support that was impossible to repay. This whole time, unbeknownst to me, I was sharing these moments with 2 others. I guess you never really know when or where an impromptu therapy session will occur. Everything that I have always stood for was instantly kicked out the window by my emotions. I walked out of the vets office carrying my knocked up cat and my head hung low feeling like I had just participated in dropping the bomb on Hiroshima. At the same time, I reminded myself that I had made a promise to Ally the day I lured her with my turkey hot dog that I would protect her from harm and for some reason these babies felt just as important for me to protect as they now felt like an extension of Ally. In the end, I could be wrong, but my gut won the battle against my principles.

Although I hired a wonderful and caring person to watch over Ally, the thought of leaving her alone and pregnant for 2 weeks killed me. When I arrived in Long Beach I was counting down the days until my departure and now I found myself counting down the days until I returned. Either way, I packed my bags, filled her food bowl and told her that I would see her soon with her new brother and sister in tow.

After a short plane and car ride I was back facing the front door of the Healdsburg apartment. Have you ever been on a long trip and when you returned everything was the same yet different? Maybe it was because I felt different. It wasn't until I returned to Healdsburg that I realized what I had left behind there. The past year in that apartment had been rough. I grew and learned a lot but all the memories were still there. I hadn't noticed while I was living in Long Beach how nice it was to be new. There was no one to run in to. No one to ask how Dan's recovery was going. No one to recognize me from past experiences. Best of all there were no visual reminders. No past buildings I used to work at in particular. I hadn't noticed how nice it had been to start over until I was back standing in the middle of an apartment filled with memories that I had mostly been trying to forget. Ryu immediately saw me and came running toward me so I could pick him up. What followed was a bit of a meltdown. When things were really hard last year, there were night where I just sat on the kitchen floor and cried. Ryu would always want me to hold and rock him as we sat there together. I think it was his way of calming down while at the same time knowing he was providing me the same comfort as well. As I picked up Ryu this night, we assumed our position on the kitchen floor where he let me comfort him by rocking and he comforted me by allowing me to finally release a years worth of emotions I hadn't noticed I still carried so heavily.

The 2 weeks that followed consisted of lots of wedding planning (including finding my dress!), an amazing going away party, lots of packing and saying many good-byes. Finally it was 4AM on moving day and it was time to hit the road on the long drive back to Long Beach. With everything we owned, our fish Sydney (RIP baby boy) and a hopeful attitude, Dan and I began our journey. Since it totals about 12 hours with a giant Uhaul, many pit stops and a tiny cabin, my parents agreed to fly Ryu and Alya down the day after we arrived so that we would have time to set up the apartment for them. All in all the trip went smoothly. We arrived safely in Long Beach, had help from a friendly drug addict moving in all our heavy furniture and began comforting the STILL pregnant Ally.

On the morning of my parents arrival I drove to the car wash so I could clean out my car. One of the younger and helpful guys who worked there came out to clean off the excess water from my car. He started chatting with me about the weather and I explained that where I had just moved from was a hell of a lot hotter so I wasn't going to complain about the 80 degree day in Long Beach. After asking me where I had just moved from he responded with, "How did you end up here?' He definitely wasn't expecting the mortuary college answer, but people never really are. "Wow! You must have some thick skin to handle that shit!" "Eh," I said, "in some ways yes, and in others no. I may be able to handle the death of babies, suicides and whatnot but it doesn't mean I don't end up crying and sitting on the kitchen floor like the rest of them, it's just about different shit, that's all." I can't say that he didn't look confused, but it was pretty clear to me. I left and made my way to LAX.

Despite a carrier escape from Ryu and receiving Alya in the form of a terrified lump at the back of her cage, both kitties arrived safe and sound the next day. Introduction were made between the 3 cats, but pregnancy hormones are preventing Ally from showing her manners...that's what I'm going to go with at least.

On the first night of their visit, as we were all leaving the apartment and stepping into the same alley where I had found Ally, I heard a tiny meow. All of a sudden my mom said, "Over there!" and stuck in a thorn bush was a little orange baby boy kitten. Through some scratched arms and hands I was able to pull him free and walk him back into the apartment. It was a much more simple rescue operation than with Ally to say the least. As I plopped him on the living room floor and watched him circle around trying to orientate himself, I wondered to myself, "How did you get here?" I've often wondered the same about Ally. I wonder what events led them to becoming homeless and out on the street. I wonder about what the male cat looks like that had his way with Ally. I wonder what small little thing, like maybe a bug, led them to run into my alley at the same exact moment I was walking through it. It's these small little convergences of events and experiences that lead to our varying paths. I've realized that although the last year of events have left me more battle scared than I had originally known, they all contributed to me sitting in this apartment at this moment. Little orange baby sleeping on my left, Ryu across the couch, Alya up on her cat tree and Ally probably sitting (miserably) in the bathroom sink trying to cool off her giant baby belly.

I can't beat myself up for the mistakes I have made and I have to learn that not all are my fault. You can not control another person's addiction, you are not responsible for someone else's shitty marriage or the ways they chose to ruin it, you can not feel like a demon for being emotionally attached to unborn kittens and you certainly can not feel like a bad person for not being able to save all the suffering animals in the world. You can only reflect on how you got to where you are right now and from there decide how you will proceed. It may take a few more emotional nights rocking on the kitchen floor with Ryu, but one day I would like to think that someone will ask me "How did you end up here?" and I'll look around and see myself in a solid career,  a less negative view of the past and even more courage and strength than I've been able to muster lately. "Let me tell you the story..." I'll respond.

And The Beat Goes On

Well, I'm not even sure where to start with this blog. I guess I'll start with when I was in junior high. I had a couple of songs that I would play over and over again to the point that I'm surprised that the CDs didn't stop playing in protest. My two favorite were "Crazy" by KC & Jojo (totally typical girly love song) and "Ms. Jackson" by Outkast. On a side note, did you know that "Ms. Jackson" was written about Erykah Badu's mother who Andre 3000 had an issue with? To this day I still rock out to "Ms. Jackson" but as it turns out, Erykah Badu's mother and I will be sharing the same last name. I'll just have to add a "Mrs." when I sing it now.

Majority of little girls grow up playing dress up. My favorite game was Pretty Pretty Princess. The sole purpose of the game was to put on as many plastic "jewels" as you could earn with your princess points. The ultimate goal is to earn the points to place the gorgeous (to a 5 year old) crown on your head. You would then pick up the fun house style mirror provided, look at yourself with all your acquired bling and say out loud, "I'm the pretty pretty princess." My future daughter will totally be allowed to indulge in this conceded stereotype promoting ritual after she cleans the cat box and does something else productive.

My very long winded and roundabout point is that after 20 years of wondering what that moment would be like and finally achieving that ultimate crown, I'm engaged!

I think everyone wonders who the man they are going to marry is. If you went back in time to Mrs. Sugars 5th grade classroom and told my 10 year old self that it was going to be the boy sitting on the other side of the room I probably would have thought you were one grape short of a fruit salad. Life is funny that way. It's funny when you date someone and imagine their last name attached to your first and wonder what it will really end up being. Outkast knew all along. It was an incredible day and it meant so much more to become engaged to someone who I have already walked down a long, windy and at times rough road with. Sometimes coming out on the other side shows you that there's no one else you'd rather travel that road with, bumpy or not. There's a lot more road to come, and I'm ready. I'll have my new last name, dreams for my future and my best friend at my side.

 (My grown up pretty pretty princess ring)

Past the engagement, school has been kicking my ass. In my ceremonies course we dove head first into the death customs of the Roman Catholics, Protestants and the Orthodox Christians. I know next to nothing about Christianity and my most recent exam grade proved that unfortunately. You Christians are so complicated! At least we have moved on to the much more simple Christian Scientists and Muslims. I can handle them.

In my orientation course we've really been focusing a lot more on caskets and cemetery merchandise, in particular putter burial containers and markers/headstones. That class has become a lot more fun. The mortuary science program has its own selection room (which is where all the caskets and other merchandise are in a funeral home), so we get to touch, feel and oogle over all the different casket materials (wood, metal, plastic, etc.) and their interiors (crepe, linen, satin, velvet, etc.). Options, options, options. We've also really started to break down the components of a casket and the manufacturing process. No one would believe the amount of names and pieces it takes to construct a casket. Oh, and then there's the shape. Would you like a vertical straight rectangle, a vertical round, or perhaps an urn side square? Yeah, like I said, options.

           (A Roman Catholic set up)

              (More casket options)

      (Metal infant latching casket option)

              (Plastic infant option)

The best part about my orientation class has been sharing info about different strange death trends or uniquenesses. As a class we share different things we've seen or enjoying depending on the topic. Yesterday was all over the place. Our topic was customizing grave markers. Markers are defined as the flush to the ground headstones that you would see in a memorial park. Have you ever thought about what you want your headstone/marker to say? One of my dad's favorite jokes is about a wife who places her husband's obituary in the paper. It stated, "George Smith lived and died. Car for sale." You can tell she loved him dearly. Now when it comes to a grave marker, the options are pretty cool. You want a special font? A unique item attached to the stone? Your photo laser etched into it? One student described the gravesite of Sonny Bono. It simply has the year of birth, year of death and the title of his famous song "And The Beat Goes On." Pretty awesome. Another student brought up Sedlec Assuary which is a chapel outside of Prague constructed from the bones of those who died during the Bubonic Plague. It's hauntingly beautiful. 

               (Sonny Bono's marker)

              (My favorite! EXPIRED.)

       (The chandler in Sedlec Assuary)

On of my favorite movies of all time is "Under the Tuscan Sun." I love it for many reasons, but one of them is because of a particular theme in the film about ladybugs. The main character has always lived her life in a certain way, in the part of the world she was familiar with and with the people she had always known. Through a divorce, she finds herself on a trip to Italy where se spontaneously purchases a crumbling mansion from the 14th century. In her small town in Tuscany there is an eccentric, free spirited woman who the main character admires. She wonders how this woman simply adapts and lets life come her way. The main character is desperately trying to find herself. Almost like she's trying to find the self that she always knew was there. The eccentric woman tells her a story about being out in a field trying to catch ladybugs. Although she's trying incredibly hard, the ladybugs remain out of her reach or fly away when she manages to catch one. Eventually the woman becomes exhausted from her failed efforts and fails asleep in the grass. When she wakes, he finds she is covered in ladybugs. At the end of the movie, as the main character comes to terms with living life as it comes, a ladybug lands on her hand. Although the main moral of the story is to stop trying to force things to happen in life, I took from it that's it's important that you can't just sit on your ass, fall asleep wherever and then assume the ladybugs will come. You have to do the work to get yourself to the place where the ladybugs live. Don't fall asleep on the subway bench. It just isn't going to happen. I was terrified to move to Southern California. I thought that I could make my career work without moving to where the ladybugs live. After moving here alone (which was the hardest part) and letting life direct me, the ladybugs have come in the form of my like minded classmates that I've always yearned for, the friends I thought I would never make (that's you Schyler, Melody and Jillian!), the full connection to my passion for funeral service and best of all the feeling of being home somewhere besides Healdsburg. That has been the best ladybug of them all.

Turkey Hot Dog & Caskets

Another week has passed here in Long Beach. Since the NFDA (National Funeral Directors Association) convention was being held in San Francisco this week, school was cancelled so the instructors, who are practicing funeral directors, could attend. It's been a great week of catching up both with school work and settling in to the apartment.

I've been trying to check out as many restaurants as I can lately to get the lay of the land. I've found that people are naturally nicer to a gal who's young and on her own. I've gotten high fives from strangers, lots of smiles and plenty of advice. So far my biggest adventure has been the laundromat and Walmart. You can make your own assumptions as to what type of people watching is available to me at these two establishments. : )

                  The tip jar at an awesome Thai restaurant I found. I thought it was quite fitting : )

So, I'm a firm believer in doctors. If something hurts, go get it checked out. Something wrong with your eyes? Go see an optometrist. Your feet? Go see a podiatrist. Your intestines? That'd be a gastroenterologist. So when you're sad, lonely and trying to adjust to a new place completely on your own, go get yourself an amazing therapist! I've been working closely with a wonderful therapist here in Long Beach who has really helped me through this transition. Because there wasn't going to be school this week to keep me busy, we made a game plan of how I was going to stay positive and healthy. From how I was expecting this week to go and how it ended up, it's hard to not think little strings are being pulled in your favor sometimes with the universe...

One of my favorite people in the whole world came down to Studio City for her son's wedding last weekend, so I drove up on Sunday to visit her. We went to her son's really nice house in the same area for a BBQ. It was so wonderful to have a piece of home down here with me. When we got to her son's house they explained how there was a crazy cat lady who lived next door. This was no exaggeration. I could see over the fence into her yard where there were TONS of kitties of all ages including kittens. I could also see that many were suffering from illnesses and one was even going blind. It was further stated that the crazy cat lady refused any help from the outside world for the cats so rescue organizations had been setting traps in hopes of catching them to treat and then release again. Apparently the shelters in LA county only give cats 2 weeks tops to be adopted before they are euthanized so instead of calling animal control, the neighbors feel that at least these kitties are getting food and shelter, and I'm sure some form of attention versus being put to sleep. As I watched the lady come out onto her back porch with her walker to feed all the cats, it made my heart hurt to think that she is probably very lonely and probably thinking that she's protecting herself and her cats from the outside world that she sees as a threat when in reality she's doing just the opposite. As I drove back to Long Beach that night I couldn't stop thinking about all the kitties. We can only act when we truly can I suppose.

                        The original Brady Bunch house!! I got to drive by and take a snap shot of it


As I parked my car and walked into the creepy alley I live in I instantly noticed halfway down it a little gray kitty looking for food by the dumpsters. Now this is not an alley you want to hang out in at night. Sex, drugs and the homeless are common and the goal is to get inside the house as quickly as possible. As I bent down to talk to her I saw that she was friendly but it was going to take a lot more to get her to come close enough for me to grab her. Although some shady people began to congregate nearby, I decided that even if I couldn't help crazy cat lady and her herd, I was going to help this little one. I quickly ran inside and grabbed a turkey hot dog and ran back out into the alley. With the help of the hot dog and some soothing words, I was able to get close enough to grab her. She immediately made herself into the shape of an X. Fully stretched out from top to bottom with claws out. I know nothing about football, but the scene looked exactly like the guy holding the football running as fast as he can with one arm out to shove anyone coming in the opposite direction off his prize. Needless to say we made it inside. I plopped her on the floor and she's been with me ever since.

                                     Ally enjoying a butt rub from the great vet I found!
The rest of the week has mostly been Ally (named after the alley she's from of course) and I getting to know each other while I work on my loads of homework. This week has been all about merchandising. Caskets, caskets and more caskets. Here are some fun facts: Did you know that the terms softwood and hardwood do not refer to the actual relative hardness of the wood? For there are, indeed, some very soft hardwoods and very hard softwoods. How about caskets gauges? Did you know that caskets are constructed of 16 gauge, 18 gauge and 20 gauge metal and that the relationship to these numbers is inverse with the gauge number and the metal's thickness? If the casket is 20 gauge steel it means that it takes 20 sheets of steel to equal approximately one inch of thickness. Therefore the lower the gauge number, the thicker the steel and the higher the quality metal casket you have. Fascinating, no? Well, either way, it's my life for now.

                                                  Caskets, caskets and more caskets.
Tomorrow starts the new week of school, although shortened for 4th of July. We'll be diving into how to do a proper funeral arrangement with a family. We're learning how important the small details are in terms of accuracy and thoroughness. First the living and then the dead is how this program seems to work. Trust me, the living are way more difficult to deal with.

Be thankful for those around you who keep you grounded and off the ledge, even if it may be a little scraggly kitty you lifted out of an alley in Navy Seal rescue fashion. Support can come in all forms whether it furry, from your mailbox or the person laying next to you in bed at night. It's all relative in the end. I'm off to go do some more homework now. I'm sure I'll have some more interesting stories to share with you all next week. Until then, keep staying alive.

"Do it all by yourself"

I've officially made it through my first week of mortuary college. Tomorrow will be a week since I left Healdsburg. Only 5 more to go. It's a bit difficult to adjust since everything I am adjusting to is (thankfully) temporary. Being in a new city and not knowing anyone and not knowing your way around isn't the easiest but I've definitely learned a lot in my short time here so far. Here are some observations thus far:

• The 405 will NEVER be my friend, but the 91 has stepped up and decided to play nice.

• The slow lane, which is one of 5-6 lanes down here instead of the 2 I'm used to, consists of going about 75mph. Any slower than that and people are chomping at the bit to give you the finger.

• Long Beach is a huge dog city! I had no idea how many people owned dogs here. I literally can't turn a corner without seeing someone new walking a dog, if not 2 dogs. The best part is that I've seen a ton of well taken care of Pitbulls and many mutts. The best has been seeing extremely large and ganster looking men walking various forms of Chihuahua and Poodle mixes. It warms my heart.

• As my friend Schyler explained, Long Beach has the highest population of Cambodians outside of Cambodia and let me tell you, I appreciate that. My apartment required I get my own refrigerator or rent one from the management company. I chose to buy my own and "Cambodia Town" as the street sign said has an awesome second hand appliance store with $25 delivery charge. Thank you Cambodia for my giant $250 refrigerator! 

All in all my living situation is nice in Long Beach. I do have a family with small children living above me. The youngest child likes to run in what seems like circles at 11pm every night. As the other neighbor explained though, I should count my blessings since this little guy used to enjoy riding his scooter at 11 instead of running. Pick your battle I guess?

So, on to the whole reason I'm here in the first place: school. This has been some week. Although I am already feeling the stress of the workload, I am much calmer about how this program is going to go. I found my little route to school, found my usual parking space and I have found my seat in class. It just so happens that it's right behind the huge projector and I can't see the board to save my life, but hey, creatures of habit die hard.

Our main focus in class this week in my Into to Funeral Service was removals. Although the funeral home I worked for rarely made removals themselves (we had a removal company that did it), it's still very important to know the proper procedures since you never know what type of funeral home you'll end up working for. And here, ladies and gentlemen, is where Mr. Randy Rescue takes center stage! Randy Rescue is 165lbs. of pure plastic (or some silicon type equivalent) who we had to practice removing and bringing to the mortuary (AKA, the table across the classroom). The instructor explained that our end goal is to know how to move a 250lbs+ body from the floor, the bed, the toilet, etc. BY OURSELVES and into back of the removal vehicle and off to the mortuary. Now, had this statement been made by one of the giant gangster men who walk their Chihuahuas in Long Beach I would have scoffed and rolled my eyes. Yes, easy for you to say/do. But no, this statement came from a woman who is about 5'1" and is quite robust to explain it politely. She had made plenty of these types of removals on her own and as she explains, it's all about geometry, physics and leverage. To me it equals tying to figure out how Stonehenge was created, but that's another story.

So here we walk into class in the morning and there's Randy Rescue on the floor, around the corner and literally wrapped around the corner itself. "Do it all by yourself," the instructor says. I should say that there are people in our class with specialties. Some have never stepped foot inside a funeral home nor seen a dead body and others have been in the industry for years and are now wanting to become licensed. We happen to have 2 young men who work for removal service companies contracted through various different funeral homes. Naturally these two jumped right up to "save" Randy and get him on the cot. Did you know that once the body is strapped onto the cot you can flip the cot up vertically and walk the deceased out of the house upright in dolly fashion? No? Well either did I. Here goes this guy strapping Randy in and then there goes Randy vertically and walked over to the "mortuary" table to be embalmed like Home Depot moves heavy appliances. It was amazing. I don't think I could have gotten Randy out of the yoga, wall hugging pose he was in nevermind delivering him UPS style to the other table. It was quite a day.

As the week progressed we really dove into the ethics of funeral service. There are such extensive laws and codes of conduct for funeral directors and embalmers to follow. It's a world that few will ever know. One of the most interesting discussions this week, among many, was the call to serve and what it truly means to serve a family. We learned that it's vital to understand all cultures and religions we come in contact with and if we don't know something about either of those then we need to study up. We can't judge a family based on religion, culture or their financial standing. What really becomes interesting is serving a family that you may not agree with morally. About 6 months ago I worked a funeral service for a neo-Nazi family. Except for the obvious, they were similar to other families I had worked with. Did I mention I was a Jew? No. Did I want to mention that fact along with many others? Of course, but I didn't. It was a learning experience to say the least.

What came up in class was the Boston marathon bomber. For those of you who don't know, the bomber was a 26 year old named Tamerlan Tsarnaev. He was ethnically Chechen-Avar and was religiously Muslim. A lot of Americans don't like Muslims and almost all Americans don't like murderers. This led to the problem after Tsarnaev was killed by police of who was going to take care of the body. Tsarnaev remained at the coroner's office for weeks in refrigeration because no funeral home was willing to take him. These funeral homes cited very valid reasons for not, such as fear of retaliation from the public in the form of vandalism and threats. Think Planned Parenthood here and what the people who work there have gone through in the past. Other funeral homes said that morally they would not serve the family because of the crime Tearnaev committed. Many did say however that they would be happy to cremate him since it's a huge slap in the face to his religion to do so. Revenge post-mortem was their goal.

The funeral director who did finally step up said that he was not taking the case out of respect for the individual, but out of respect for the profession and the reality that human remains need to be disposed of properly. The flip side of the situation is that if no funeral home had stepped up, the family who was willing to pay, would lose custody of the body and Tsarnaev would have become the responsibility of that county and labeled an indigent. Indigents are disposed of through public funds i.e. taxpayer's dollars. This is what happens to the homeless found under bridges who no one claims. Had this funeral director not take care of Tsarnaev, it would have been salt in the wound for the people of Boston who would have ended up paying for his disposition. Interesting how that works huh?

All in all it brought to light our morals and ethics not just as people but as future funeral directors. What would you have done?

Alright folks, now that the refrigerator is here I'm off to do some grocery shopping and work on my boat load of homework. More to come as the weeks progress. Keep smiling and staying alive : )

"This will be the hardest thing you ever do. Good luck."

Today has been a day unlike any I've ever experienced. I work up at 6AM in order to prepare for the day and I'm only now settling in back at the hotel and able to gather my thoughts. Today was my all day (8AM-5PM) orientation for mortuary college. If I'm able to complete this blog series with a photo of me in a cap and gown and not back in waitressing attire I will be one happy camper!

I woke up feeling ok, but as the time drew closer to my dad dropping me off at the campus, I started to panic. This is really my new school, in a new city, in the other half of the state. In the best way that my dad can show affection, he held out his hand for a high five. Anyone who knows him knows that this high five was equivalent to a warm and loving good luck hug. As I walked away from the car and started up the stairs the panic truly set in. With each step I thought, "I could turn around right now. No one knows me, they'll never know. Dad hasn't left the parking lot yet. I can totally back out while I'm ahead." Now anyone who knows me knows how many opportunities I've missed in the past due to my anxiety. I try not to beat myself up too much about the past, but I do sometimes wonder what opportunities and memories I've let slip through my fingers. With those memories of past failures propelling me, I made it up the stairs to the health science department and through the door.

What ensued was eight straight hours of pure information. How to dress (or more like how not to dress), how to speak, how to study, how to network, etc. Not only did I learn that I had dressed completely inappropriate (leggings and sandals), but that I would have to get used to a strict dress code for the next year and a half. Knee length skirts, hosiery, full suits, no visible tattoos or piercings, and closed toe shoes. As the instructor/dean of the program stated, "It only takes one time in the prep room with a body purging on your feet and it running between your toes for you to remember the closed toe policy." I personally don't think I'll need that reminder. It was explained that conservative clothing and attitude is due to many reasons, but mostly out of respect for the families. Although I had experienced it first hand, it was still interesting to hear that 80% of your time is spent with the living and only 20% with the dead. It makes sense that will those numbers you know which group out of the two you're aiming to impress.

Past the basics, the instructors got into the nitty gritty of what we really needed to be prepared for. "You are a tight, unique group of people. Look around. This is your new extended and dysfunctional family. Say goodbye to your old life, your old friends and your relationship. This is now your life." This was my first, but not my last, instance of wanting to cry today. Thankfully the instructors brought in the second and third semester students who acted as mentors for us today. The support was overwhelming. I couldn't have gotten that many numbers and emails without trying even if I was Brad Pitt! It was such a change from my past experience in college. Both experiences will have required a TON of work and dedication, but I don't remember a time in my life that I felt more lonely than at UC Berkeley. This will be the opposite, and for that I am so thankful.

                     (The heads for the restorative art course that I'll be taking. These were some of the best examples)

Between campus tours, buying my books (EXPENSIVE!) and eating cookies, I met some wonderful people. One of which is (hard to believe) just as obsessed with her kitties as I am! Because of our student discount, we already have a carpool trip planned with another cohort student to San Diego for the cremation operator certification course. Very excited!

                                                 (My books for this summer semester plus tons of online reading)

So, many more subjects were covered and even more homework was assigned that my head is still spinning. I'll spare you all the details, but even with all the support, the shear volume of work and percentage of drop outs and fails left me feeling scared, incompetent and overwhelmed. As the long day came to an end, I said goodbye to the new friends I made and I deliriously made my way to the parking lot to wait for my dad. I decided I needed to call my mentor for support. She was my inspiration to apply to Cypress since she graduated from there in the early 90's. She is the most amazing funeral director I have ever met and I aspire to be half as talented and knowledgeable as she is. Unimaginable circumstances brought her to the decision to become a funeral director, and if she was able to emotionally handle extreme grief and go through this program at the young age of 18, I sure as hell can give it a shot at 25 with a ton of support. As one mentor stated, "This will be the hardest thing you ever do. Good luck." I've got a million hands, and many paws (both kitty and doggy) holding me up, so I'm hoping no luck is needed.

Until next time, keep staying alive : )

The pre-adventure begins...

Well, as most of you know now, I was accepted into the mortuary science program at Cypress College in Cypress, California. I had a good feeling that I was going to be accepted and be starting in the fall. As it turns out, after being accepted, I found out that they were starting the program a semester early. So instead of packing and saying good-bye in early August, I'm doing it in early June. Thankfully I have a month in between the summer and fall semesters to come back to Healdsburg and say my true good-byes. My boyfriend, Dan, will be staying behind during my summer semester and then he and I (along with our 2 kitties Ryu and Alya) will all make the final journey down together. In the meantime, I will be spending 6 weeks sleeping on a blow-up mattress in an empty apartment while taking my first 2 courses of the program. Although I'm afraid of the loneliness that will set in, I'm excited to venture out on my own and see what Long Beach is all about. I couldn't bring myself to say that I lived in Orange County, so after looking around a bit at Long Beach, I realized it was a short drive to Cypress and was in Los Angeles County. I was sold. Anyways, the first 6 weeks on my own will no doubt be an adventure.

I have a mandatory all day orientation on June 4th where I'll meet all the other newbies. It's supposed to be a meet and greet kind of day filled with paperwork, introductions and a physical (to see if we can lift dead weight...no pun intended). I'm mostly excited to see who I will be going through the program with. I'll be the first to tell you that those in the funeral industry do not fit the stereotypical image of a goth standing in the corner with green hair, a spiked collar and munching on a pigeon's head in Ozzy Osborn fashion. In reality, people like that would fail quickly in this industry. You must be presentable, approachable, kind, organized and for lack of a better word, "normal." Now this is the part that I'm really excited about. Yes, I'm sure all of us will look great in suits and smell nice and clean and smiling, but the truth is, people who enter this field are a little different. They view the world, and especially death, differently. They are able to dive daily into a world where the subject matter and images are avoided at all costs by the everyday outside people. I've learned through my boyfriend, who is in recovery, that those of us who can drink responsibly and not in excess are called "normies." That's definitely what I would label those outside of the funeral world. They are the "normies" who don't want to be confronted with the reality of death, the grieving process, nor what happens to your physical self after death. It is perfectly understandable. Death is scary. It's unknown and unknowable until your ticket number is called. There's absolutely nothing wrong with either type of "normie," but I'm just happy I'm the non-alcoholic version of one.

At home we have a kitty skeleton who we named Loki and a taxidermy parakeet named Sammy. They are both beautiful and proudly displayed on our bookcase. My very dear friend said to me the other day, "Wouldn't it be awesome if everyone who moved in to attend the program each brought their own taxidermy animals too?" It made me smile and reminded me of Harry Potter. Remember all the young tykes standing around on Platform 9 3/4 with their different types of wands and animals ready to embark on this huge journey to learn their calling in magic? Some had mice, others had cats, and some had owls. All were new and strange in their own special ways. What a comforting sight it would be to see someone move in next door to me in Long Beach who was also attending the program and see them carry in their taxidermy squirrel. Although I don't think this will end up being the case, I'll settle for meeting more unique individuals to add to those I've already come to care for in this industry. Maybe I'll meet another ex-night club bouncer turned embalmer, or another funeral director who makes casket couches, or maybe even another person who does removals who used to drive a school bus. These have already been such wonderful people who came into my life and I can't wait to see what potpourri of individuals awaits me on June 4th. Stay tuned...