WHITE KNUCKLES | Spaces of Gratitude

As you might’ve figured out, my blogging technique is pretty straightforward: something happens to me – something simple, everyday, insignificant to history or to my neighbors but exceptional to me, less meaningful that I build it up to be – and I write about it. And since I went to Los Angeles for spring break last week, that is what I am writing about today. But you might also have figured out that I am not into linear narrative, chronological memoirs, climaxes of events – the most interesting doors are open behind small details: in the spaces between clubs in Hollywood and a road trip to Palm Springs, in the dusty backroads away from the beach, close enough for sand to get on them but far enough that they don’t smell like sea salt. In this case, I found a door in a vegan bowl of kale, spinach, beets, quinoa and tahini. The restaurant is near Venice Beach, and populated by people wearing athletic gear and impeccable hair. It is called Café Gratitude – I think it made an impression on me because lately I’ve been feeling very grateful.

MARY’S MUSINGS | To Those Who Inspire Us

Sometimes a person can change your life without even knowing how much they have impacted you.  I want to talk about one such person who kept me calm as I was rushed to the emergency room with my arm bleeding and my body and dress splattered with red. When my friends called 911 after I tried to commit suicide, there was one EMT responder, a woman, who I will be forever be grateful towards.  She doesn’t know the effect her words had on me, but I wish I could tell her.  As I was being transported to the hospital, I told her what had happened to me and about my flashbacks.