I just read your blog, or part, because Artie Bigley notified me of it. I’ve never met him or even spoken to him. But he sends me news items for possible use on www.topfree.ca.

I also edit a naturist/nudist journal in Canada that is read in the USA some. As a university professor, I have informally counselled manypeople, mostly women, who have had many different problems.

That’s enough background, I hope. I want to say very loudly that your writing is marvelous and your fierce detachment from your previous problems is inspiring. I may well refer some of my current students to your site.

(I’ve also walked the “Bare to Breakers” twice (1999 and 2000; I can’t run 7.5 miles) but have never braved a Burning Man.)

Every good wish for your challenges and successes!

Paul Rapoport

–
Dr. Paul Rapoport
Editor, Going Natural
Federation of Canadian Naturists
PO Box 81128 FGPO
Ancaster ON L9G 4X1
Canada

I know I’m a day behind. I would’ve sent this yesterday if I hadn’t been ‘resting.’

I do want to pay tribute to Americans who have served their country in the past and who do so today. This holiday is particularly meaningful for me because I wouldn’t be here if my dad hadn’t enlisted with the U.S. Navy in the Philippines. A good majority of my family members owe their citizenship to the U.S. military. I spent my weekends at the local naval base and commissary, and I’m proud that it’s part of my history. Not only am I proud, I’m extremely appreciative knowing exactly where my parents came from back in the homeland. They are not one of the waves of wealthy immigrants. They had a hard life back there and I’ve seen it first-hand. I have three cousins who are isolated from their families, but currently serve with purpose. I’m sincerely proud of their commitment and of all Americans who have given their time.

Here’s is an interesting background from Wikipedia.

Memorial Day is a United States federal holiday that is observed on the last Monday of May. It was formerly known as Decoration Day. This holiday commemorates U.S. men and women who have died in military service to their country. It began first to honor Union soldiers who died during the American Civil War. After World War I, it expanded to include those who died in any war or military action. One of the longest standing traditions is the running of the Indianapolis 500, which has been held in conjunction with Memorial Day since 1911.

In addition to remembrance, Memorial Day is also a time for picnics, family gatherings, and sporting events. Some Americans view Memorial Day as the unofficial beginning of summer and Labor Day as the unofficial end of the season. The national Click it or Ticket campaign ramps up beginning Memorial Day weekend, noting the beginning of the most dangerous season for auto accidents and other safety related incidents. Some Americans use Memorial Day to also honor any family members who have died, not just servicemen.

I am so hungover. All I can think is ‘get car.’ ‘Get food.’ Hyde and Ellis. My car is at Hyde and Ellis. Luckily, it’s the one thing I committed to memory last night. I drove to the bar. Cabbed home. There was a girl in the cab with me. Two of us. different stops. I think the cabbie was trying to stack his fares. At stop lights, I shoved the door open as I hurled onto the street.

He charged me $20–double what he should have, but I was too sick to argue. Maybe I vomited in the cab. I don’t know. It’s the price you pay. The $20 was just the beginning.

Hot shower. I thought I could wash away the queasies. Everything came out then. I mean everything. My innards spewed out…from every hole in my body. Snot, puke, piss, shit. For once, I thanked God for not having a boyfriend. What he would have had to put up with. Coming home to this monstrosity. Ugh, it was ugly. Disgusting. Words cannot describe the scene before bed. Ewwww.

I woke up trembling. My clothes were strewn along the hallway. My bathroom was a disaster.

A text message from the birthday boy: Thanks for an awesome night! Had tons of fun and felt lots of love–thanks for that!! I even got to hold some hair over the toilet…Hope you survived…!

It was a fun night. The birthday boy and his girlfriend. Another friend and me. Four of us partying like we were back in business school.

Over the course of the night I consumed:
1 pinot noir
1 cabernet
2 jaeger bombs
1 champagne cocktail

Wine, hard alcohol, beer, and champagne. What the fuck? The jaeger bombs must have been deadly considering the state I woke up in. It was surprisingly tasty. So much so that I finished off my friend’s! I feel ill thinking about last night. I think we all woke up with the dizzies judging from the text messages I got today.

I managed to get myself on the bus. I’m so lucky I live along a major bus line. Sandwiched between two homeless men, I thought about how much I love living in the city. The diversity. The urbanness. My car had a ticket on it (street cleaning), but I was too hungover to care.

Food made me feel better. I even got some culture in by heading back downtown and watching Blackbird at the American Conservatory Theater. It was a disturbing play about a man and a woman meeting for the first time in 15 years after having had an improper relationship.

BYE BY BLACKBIRD
By Mort Dixon and Ray Henderson

Pack up all my care and woe
Here I go, singing low
Bye bye blackbird

Where somebody waits for me
Sugar’s sweet, so is she
Bye bye blackbird

No one here can love or understand me
Oh what hard luck stories they all hand me
Make my bed and light the light
I’ll arrive late tonight
Blackbird, bye bye

No one here can love or understand me
Oh, oh what hard luck stories they all hand me
Make my bed and light the light
I’ll arrive late tonight
Blackbird, bye bye

I’ve been stuck on the couch ever since. I’m elated that tomorrow is a holiday.

John Proctor: Because it is my name! Because I cannot have another in my life! Because I lie and sign myself to lies! Because I am not worth the dust on the feet of them that hang! How may I live without my name? I have given you my soul; leave me my name! –The Crucible

Ever since my honors English teacher in high school introduced us to the play, then made us act it out, I’ve loved The Crucible. Then when it was acted out again in college on stage, with a friend in the cast, I loved it more. It came to life for me and John Proctor’s quote above is what I remember most vividly.

My name felt like a crutch growing up. What an unusual last name. I’d repeat it twice, then a third time. I always had to spell it out. But now I appreciate its uniqueness–as I wrote in another post. I like that people can find me, google me easily. There was a New York Times article a few weeks ago about parents determining children’s names on how easy they would be to google. I’m sure I would do the same thing. Brand recognition. Who wants to be one of a couple hundred John Does.

My full name is Maria Catherine Gualberto Gacad.

Maria Catherine is my first name. In similar fashion, my sister’s first name is Marlyne Therese. I’ve tried to eliminate Maria. I actually hate it. But it shows up in all of my legal documents and identification. I can’t seem to get rid of the damn thing. When I get married, I’m going to change my name to officially ditch Maria…can’t say I’ll ditch my last name, though. Who’s going to know it’s me, little old me, when my name is changed to Catherine Doe??? A classmate from b-school married another classmate from Spain and when she brought up the topic of changing her last name, her Spanish husband gasped, “Why would you do that? Why would you change your name?” Apparently, it doesn’t happen in Spain. Seems like a best practice we need to migrate over here to the States. Gualberto, my middle name, is my mom’s maiden name.

What people actually call me is a whole different matter. The shorter the name? The longer you’ve known me. My mom and my sister call me Cat. My dad calls me Rina (his name is Rino). My close friends have variations on a theme: Cath, Catch, Catchee. Growing up, I went by Cathy. In college, I changed the spelling to Cathee to be different. Then when I graduated, I put Catherine on my resume because I thought it looked more professional. Plus, I preferred being called Catherine. I want people to call me what they’re used to calling me. I would think it odd if my high school friends started calling me Catherine.

My pet peeve, though, is when people that I meet now start calling me something other than Catherine. I introduce myself as Catherine. Catherine is on my email signature. But time and time again, I get people responding with “Cathy,” or “Kathy,” or “Cate.” Ummm, excuse me? Did I say you can call me whatever you feel like calling me? Don’t botch it up. Leave me my name!

My mom likes to tell the story of how I had to kiss everyone good-bye as a kid. I was three. Starved for affection, I must have been, because if someone left unwittingly I would run to the door and scream, “KIIIIIIISSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!” I’d stomp and scream over and over, “Aghhhhhh! Kiiisssssssss-Kiiiisssssss! Wahhhhh!” Family, friends, visitors would have no choice but to return and obey.

Not much has changed several decades later. I’m still starved for affection. And I definitely need my kisses. I spent Friday night at my sister’s, hanging out with the family. I had a really good time playing with my nephew Dominic. He’s gotten so big and stretched out. No longer chubby! I gasped, “What happened? He’s skinny.”

“I think he’s going through a growth spurt,” my sister commented.

Almost three hours with a one-year-old and you’ve pretty much exhausted all the different play scenarios you can think of. I was reading books with more animation than a pantomime, prancing and jumping around a la Dancing with the Stars, beating the drum while jiggling the tambourine. Towards the end of the night, I gave up and insisted that the games had come to an end.

“Night-night. Sleepy time. Time to go night-night.” I dramatically laid down on the floor and squinted my eyelids shut. I was certain Dominic would ignore me and continue to play on his own. Instead, I felt these two little hands press down on my head and then a kiss on the forehead. I immediately sat up, touched at this simple gesture of affection. “OmiGOD that is so sweet. I can’t believe he just did that!”

Everyone watched the event unphased while I revelled in bliss.

If you read my blog as often as I read the celebrity gossip columns, you’ll know that I’m fanatical about the show ‘Dancing with the Stars.’ With no TV, I drag myself to the gym and watch mesmerized as these athletes and B-list celebrities get their groove on. This has been the best season yet, culminating with Ian Ziering from Beverly Hills 90210 (he got booted last week), and the final three tonight–the boxing star Laila Ali, N’Sync’s Joey Fatone, and Olympic speed skater Apolo Ohno. Even though everyone’s pretty damn good, Apolo is the shoe-in. He and his partner are HOT, HOT, HOT. Their chemistry, the choreography, their performances are always pure perfection. I’m talking crowd-pleasing, all-around standing ovation-type perfection. I was on the treadmill not realizing that an hour had passed and there I was still hauling ass with a huge grin on my face because this show is so entertaining.

If you haven’t watched a show, you have totally missed out on some of the best television of all time. But…you can catch the finale tomorrow. There’s one last dance before they announce the results. I guess one of the reasons I’m asking you to watch is because I have therapy tomorrow and I won’t be able to see it. Argh!!! I want details!!!