It’s always so peculiar when celebrities die. It’s not like we knew them, but in a way, we did. Actually, I met Sky Saxon a few times. He was a sweet, crazy, old, man. At least, that’s what I gathered from our brief interactions during the period I was dating the bass player of his reformed band. Poor Sky. He didn’t look particularly healthy when I met him. He was old and the 60′s had taken their toll. I suppose it was only a matter of time.

Whether they were sick for a while or we never saw it coming, it’s still intriguing to think of how they changed the world, how they made their mark, and how they will remain in collective memories for a long while to come. Some more than others.

I’m not a huge celebrity fanatic. I have my favorites, but even then, I’m hardly obsessive. When each of the aforementioned celebrities died, my initial reaction was, “Oh, that’s sad“. It’s not that my day to day life was impacted very much. Aside from being inundated with news reports and retrospectives, life goes on very much the same way it did when they were alive. Naturally, with this particular group of celebrities (Michael Jackson aside), it’s not as though they created anything on the scale of say, Gene Roddenberry, Rod Serling, or William Shakespeare. Ed McMahon seemed like a nice guy, Farrah was a decent actress and a famous poster, Billy Mays annoyed us into buying products that didn’t always work, and Sky Saxon helped change music in the 60′s but managed a level of obscurity that only die hard music fans could appreciate.

The natural exception is Michael Jackson. I read a nice TIME Magazine article that talked about the sad aspects of Michael’s life and discussed his particular classification of abnormality; one that we hope is never duplicated. While my standard response of “Oh, that’s sad” is handed almost unenthusiastically to the other dead celebs this week, I do in fact feel bad for Michael. I feel bad for anyone who is that lost, that sick, and that tragic.

Like a lot of people, as a child, I was a huge fan. I grew up listening to his music and continue to love many of his songs; specifically his album “Off the Wall”. I remember the photo my sister and I tore out of Bop Magazine and pasted to the wall of our shared room. I used to look at it and think how adorable he was. And yes, like most 8 year olds at the time, I had a huge crush on him. When Thriller came out, I thought it was the most amazing thing I’d ever seen. It helped fuel a life long love for zombies, cheesy horror movies, and above all: Vincent Price. I guess I have Michael to thank for all that. Or perhaps (more appropriately) John Landis. Thriller also made me want to see American Werewolf in London and the rest is history.

I don’t really know the point I’m trying to make. I guess all I can really say is that Michael’s death has stirred feelings of conflict. I’m sure a lot of people feel the same way. I loved him, but I also thought he was severely deranged.

This morning, during a Twitter conversation, my soon-to-be cousin-in-law, a writer for TIME Magazine (London Bureau Chief), recently interviewed Quincy Jones where he said “the idea of a well-adjusted artiste is oxymoronic”. I replied, “Which supports my theory that great artists are never sane. Of course, this means I’ll never be great. LOL.” My soon-to-be cousin-in-law went on to say that “I don’t agree with Quincy. The trope about great artists being mad gives a lot of mediocre talents the excuse to behave badly”.

I think in some cases, insanity leads to great things; take Edgar Allan Poe or Pablo Picasso. Then again, I suppose it depends on your perspective. If you don’t think Poe or Picasso were great, than insanity is a bad thing. My soon-to-be cousin-in-law is right, it does give mediocre talent an excuse to behave badly; take Britney Spears.

What this means is that there really is no recipe for greatness. The idea that you either have it or you don’t remains ever true. I surmise that fame is really about luck – either self made or fated by the stars. Who knows. It seems that fame takes it’s toll and perhaps, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Even for someone like Michael Jackson who will be remembered among the ranks of Elvis or The Beatles…I have to ask, was it worth it? On the one hand, he had a pretty great life. Never feel bad for a man who owns a theme park in their backyard (even if he did have to sell it to settle debts). Michael’s life was riddled with pain and emotional torment, but I reckon he did it to himself; which is just sad.

So long all you crazy fucks. Rest well.

Two years later, I still miss my Dad everyday. The tears don’t fall quiet as steadily, but it still hits me from time to time. Through sheer force of will, I have attempted to live my life; a life my Dad would be proud of. Two years later and I continue to wish I could share things with him, tell him my good news, or just hear his voice.

A few months ago, I was trying to fasten around my neck, a necklace that he’d given me. Suddenly, it slipped from my hands and went crashing down on the cold bathroom floor. It was a royal blue, glass heart, vile. I remember when he gave it to me, I asked him what I was supposed to keep in it…drugs? He laughed and said he didn’t know you could keep stuff in it. It wasn’t the most beautiful necklace, in fact, it was sort of cheap. I wore it all the time anyway. I loved it because he gave it to me. He saw it in a store, thought of me, and gave it to me. When I looked down at the hundreds of tiny blue pieces of glass, I burst into tears and was inconsolable for a few moments. It couldn’t be fixed. For a minute, I thought about keeping the shards of glass, but came to my senses. I have other things: Photographs, knick-knacks, mementos, my memories.

Occasionally, it hits me really hard as though I’ve been punched in the chest. My Dad is really gone. It still seems unfair. It remains the great tragedy of my life. I try not to think about him not walking me down the aisle or dancing with me at my wedding – or getting drunk and obnoxious. He wouldn’t like that I’m wearing black, but I’d make some joke about not being a virgin anymore and he’d laugh it off uncomfortably or get annoyed with me for being so crass. He probably wouldn’t like that I’m not getting married in a church in front of God, but I’d work to change his mind the way I did with just about everything. Eventually, he’d see my point.

It’s raining today. My brother JCS and I want to visit his grave site today. Hardly anyone has gone in the last year. Not because they don’t miss him, but because it’s just too painful. It’s raining, so maybe we won’t go. I’ve also had a headache and neck ache since yesterday. I don’t particularly like going to the grave because he’s not really there. It’s a beautiful place, serene and quiet, but he’s not there.

I don’t know if I appreciated him enough when he was here or if I let him know how much I loved him. I hope I did. I think he knew. Still, the one thing I’ve taken from this is that you absolutely need to let people know how you feel. Life is short. Our time on this planet is but the blink of an eye.

It’s a nice thought to think that our loved ones are watching us from Heaven, but I don’t know. I wonder. If it’s true, my Dad can look down from time to time and see that I’m doing just fine. Better, anyway.

It’s the perfect day for rain. It rained the day we put his ashes into the ground.

I miss you, Dad.

The thing about yesterday’s movie stars is that…well, they really don’t make them like they used to. I mean, let’s talk about your Judy Garlands and your Gene Kellys. Maybe I’m old, but today’s celebrities all kind of look alike, dress alike, none of them can act, and none of them are making anything important. In 70 years has anything come close to topping The Wizard of Oz? I was watching a documentary about MGM Studios today and it occurred to me, the grand era of movies is really gone. What are they making today? Remakes upon remakes. Nothing new. They take an old story, dress it up with today’s hottest star, and repackage it. I say, if it ain’t broke, why fix it? Of course, this makes me sound like your typical “get off my lawn” old person, but it’s true. Why remake the classics? Why can’t the younger generation enjoy the old stuff? It’s about money, isn’t it? Yes, I know. Granted, Poseidon was pretty good, but it’ll never compare to The Poseidon Adventure. Then again, anything with Kurt Russell is A+ in my book. Occasionally, an independent film will come along and rock my world; Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and anything from Wes Anderson, but on the whole, movies hardly carry the same impact. Do they?

Recently, my fiancee’s twin boy had a brief aversion to black and white television. He actually said he wouldn’t watch a movie if it was in black and white. He changed his tune after a full day of Twilight Zone episodes. He was spouting, “It’s a cook book!” for several days after. He quickly realized that color doesn’t necessarily make things better. Good for him. I knew he’d come around. He even applauded after It’s a Wonderful Life. He came around because classic films are a part of history that kids today aren’t easily granted access to. There are good stories there, plenty of action, damn fine acting, and cinematography to beat all cinematography. It’s good. Damn good. Kids are so berated with high-octane, edge of your seat, CGI remakes, old films hardly stand a chance. Thank goodness for Turner Classic Movies. When given the chance, kids will appreciate the old films.

When fine actors like Ricardo Montalban pass away, I can’t help but think the list is growing shorter and shorter. Because it is. Soon they’ll all be gone. Like the last remaining survivor of the Titanic. Gone. Not forgotten, but the stories they told, the lives they lead…now all a part of history and life goes on. The good news is, whenever I want to see Ricardo, there he is, for all eternity making Captain Kirk’s life a living hell, spouting Shakespeare, and dying a fine death with all kinds of awesome explosions. Revenge is a dish best served cold. It is very cold…in space. Yes Ricardo, it certainly is. And it always will be.

So long old friend. You were awesome.

I often think about the differences in the passing of time. It goes slow when we’re kids and fast when we’re adults. Is it simply about having a basis of reference? An hour is only 60 small minutes and each one of those is 60 small seconds. I guess knowing how long it takes to do something, takes the fun out of it. When you’re a kid, you have no concept of time beyond being home before sunset. You also don’t care about time. You don’t wear a watch until you get your first one in 10th grade and even then, you often forget to wind it. When the battery dies, you stop wearing it. Or at least, I did. I still have the watch my Dad gave me in 10th grade.

This year hasn’t passed any faster than all those that came before it. So why does it feel that way? Once Christmas is over it’s on to New Year’s Eve and the whole thing starts all over again. Except this time, you’re a year older and perhaps a little wiser.

2008 was the year I started my freelancing career. In January I was liberated from Hot Topic the same day my Grandpa Ernie died.

In February we had a lunar eclipse and I took a really great photo of it. We also fired our gardeners and I took on the yard. I’ve regretted it ever since. Poloroid announced they were ceasing production of their iconic instant film.

In March, I turned 33. I didn’t talk about my birthday and can’t remember what I did. A full year passed since my Dad died. March was hard. I did an amazing photo session with an old boyfriend. I got into an accident on the 5-FWY in which my car was damaged and the squirrel died. My baby brother announced that his (hated) girlfriend was pregnant – this would cause a devastating family rift that is still unresolved.

In April, I went to Japan. A life’s dream come to fruition. April was a good month. I also learned why you shouldn’t get wasted on a long flight home.

In May, a friend I’ve known since first grade got married. I went to the wedding by myself. Gas prices were the highest in my lifetime.

In June, Wall-E came out. It remains one of the most beautiful movies I’ve ever seen. I saw Peter Murphy at the House of Blues. The Apricots on our tree came in. I had this wild idea of making jam, but the fruit went bad very quickly and I missed the boat.

In July, AJB and I went to Chicago to see his mom. The cicada were in full force. That month, we attended Comic-Con in San Diego and even though I wrote about it, I never published the post. I just did. I embraced Twitter and got into more trouble with the law – expired tags and mysteriously missing insurance information.

In August, we had what might have been an attempted break-in or maybe ghosts. My sister visited for a weekend. I made a YouTube video to take part in an online piano teaching experiment. I still haven’t started because the book is expensive.

By September, the heat was getting to me. I didn’t write much and didn’t get a whole lot done over Summer in general. I did some photo shoots here and there. I started up with a cool vintage clothing store that offers self satisfaction over heaps of cash.

In October, Obama-fever was setting in. AJB and I celebrated our 4 year anniversary by getting engaged. I voted early in Norwalk and waited 4 hours. My sister came into town and helped me pick out my engagement ring. On Halloween, we drove out to Vegas to canvass for Obama.

November, Obama won the election and all was right with the world. Mostly. We stayed in Nevada until the 5th. AJB bought my ring and presented it to me on the Haunted Mansion ride at Disneyland. A week or so later, we traveled to Florida for a theme park convention. I had a headache for three days, but got to meet lots of people and saw Universal Orlando and Islands of Adventure. Starbucks unleashed their Gingerbread Lattes as “Ginger Snap Lattes”. My brother’s baby was born. Welcome Micheal Joseph Simental.

In December, we traveled to Chicago and New York. I saw Jersey Boys in Chi-Town and Liza in Manhattan. My brother, my Mom, and I saw Frankie Valli in San Bernardino. Bettie Page and Majel Barrett died. Christmas came and went. I was unprepared but it all came together in the end. I announced to my family that AJB and I were getting married – they all knew something was up, but thought I might be pregnant. LOL.

And now, here we are. The end of 2008. Is it just me or do years get more and more momentous as you get older? A long time friend got married, my grandpa died, I started my career, I went to Japan, Chicago (twice), New York, and Florida. I traveled more in 2008 than any other year. My brother had a baby and I got engaged. 2008 was filled with excitement and many life changing events. 2009 brings new promise, but I am hesitant to say it’s going to be great because I just don’t know. I do know that in 2009 I will be planning my wedding, turning 34, and getting married. The uncertainty of this economic crisis is casting a dark cloud over the new year. Who knows what the future will bring? *We are all interested in the future because that is where you and I are going to spend the rest of our lives.

See what happened in 2007

*Crisswell, Ed Wood

At first I was like, “Coffin couches! Awesome!” and then I read the description:

We at Coffincouches.com have the mindset of thinking “Green” and we know it is different but we strongly believe in recycling. Our niche happens to be 18 gauge steel coffins which we collected from local funeral homes primarily in Southern California. It is a health and safety law that funeral homes cannot resell used coffins to the general public. We approached funeral directors with the attitude of recycling. These coffins are not used for burial due to slight cosmetic inconsistencies. They are reconfigured and modified resulting in a finished product – a unique one a kind coffin couch. If you notice (although it may be too small) the six cast iron heavy duty legs are embossed with the universal biohazard insignia. The reason we utilize this sign is because safety is our utmost concern. If you are not aware, once a human body is placed in a coffin it is considered biohazard tissue. The legs have the embossed insignia for precautionary reasons in the event body fluids are exchanged on these coffins. Perhaps you would feel safe knowing that you are in designated biohazard scene!
Ha!!

Several points to notice: Coffins are used. Legs are embossed with bio-hazzard symbol “for precautionary reasons in the event body fluids are exchanged on these coffins”

Seriously? I like the idea of recycling coffins, but don’t like the idea of sitting on a piece of furniture that once carried the remains of someone’s loved one. Um, because of the fluid leakage. WTF? How is this OK? And why would someone buy this? Yes, it’s a kick ass looking piece of furniture, but when they explain someone laid in it….just makes it grody and a whole lotta creepy.

Being Goth (as I am), you’d think I’d be alright with this idea. You know, death, funerals, etc. However, having attended my fair share of funerals in the past 4 years, it’s hard to think about the body that must have lay there. Who was it? How did they die? What did they die from? Is there fluid in the creases of the sofa?

While I’m sure the Coffin Couches company thoroughly cleans the piece before they sell it. Why then include the bio-hazard? Why warn people it might be an issue? I also don’t get the part where they say “Perhaps you would feel safe knowing that you are in designated biohazard scene! Ha!!” – what’s with the Ha!!? I don’t get it. Is that funny?

I guess I’ve lost my edge. I wouldn’t be able to watch my Thursday night NBC line-up sitting on something someone was dead (and possibly leaking) on.

2007 will always be the year my dad died. Even though other events skirted in and out of sunrises and sunsets, it’s hard to think about anything else. I lost so much this year. The family (en masse) I once knew seems to be a reasonable facsimile of the vivacious group of people I spent my holidays with. Are we closer? I don’t know. Sometimes yes, sometimes no. Fantasies bring pictures of uniting through tragedy and while this is sometimes the case, it isn’t often. Alas, I am unsure of what it will take and often wonder that I might have to trudge on without them. Maybe it just takes time.

2007 was also the year I moved in with my boyfriend. We got into a grand house in a grand neighborhood. I see his children more often and I am now hostess to my family’s year Christmas Eve Spectacular. My life isn’t anything like it was a year ago. Every thing’s changed. It’s funny how you can actually track the changes, if you want to. The choices you make and the choices that are made for you. They shape you and mold you. If you’re not careful, you may end up becoming someone you hardly recognize. And that has been my battle, my haunted quest. Who I become in the wake of my father’s death is now up for discussion.

One year ago tonight I was trapped in Albuquerque, snowed-in during what eventually became the largest snow storm New Mexico had ever seen. I often wonder about these things. You see, I didn’t really want to go home. I wanted to spend as much time with my dad as possible. The snow storm made it possible. Thanks to nature and it’s unpredictability, I was granted a few more precious days. We didn’t do anything. We watched TV, talked a little, he slept, we slept. It was nice and I treasure those days. When I drove away, I cried. I guess I must have known that he wouldn’t make it. Even though my brain lied to me and told me he’d be fine, my soul knew different.

In 2007 I received money my dad left me and bought a professional camera, a highly expensive lens, and a new iMac. I don’t think I could have ever afforded any of that if it hadn’t been for my dad.

During the trials and tribulations of 2007, I suffered and continue to suffer from stress related eczema. I haven’t liked talking about it because it’s highly personal, unflattering, and annoying. I’m resolve in my belief that I won’t have it much longer and that because of it, I have altered my eating habits and am honestly trying to live a more healthy and productive life. I’m still a work in progress, but the way I figure…I’m working on it. That’s a good thing. The holidays set me back a bit, but I guess the point is to keep trying.

2007 was the hardest year of my life. Even though every day it gets a little better, I remain slightly broken. Adding salt to my wounds, my grandfather was recently admitted to the hospital. I’m not really sure what’s going on, but apparently he’s getting sent home and might still be in bad shape. How well do 90 year olds recover from this sort of thing? I imagine not well and while he might go home, he won’t be healthy, he’ll be a lot more frail and his days will be numbered. I guess at 90, they already are. There are also various custody battles going on over my grandfather and his future is highly uncertain.

2007 was a bad year mixed with small tinges of good. I also went to New York, a town I love more than a whole lot of other towns. I had dinner with Ray Bradbury at Disneyland’s Club 33, I got a new iPhone, my baby brother got engaged to a girl no one likes, my siblings divvied up my dad’s remaining possessions, my boyfriend and I discovered that we still like each other enough to live together after miscellaneous growing pains, and I accomplished several amazing photo shoots. I’m in a whole new place. My mind, my soul, everything. It’s all new and scary and difficult.

What lies ahead for 2008? Do I dare make resolutions? I figure, why bother? I won’t follow them anyhow and like 2007, I’ll simply hope for the best. I know things will get better because I want them to. I’ll continue to make strides and will strive to create a life my dad would be proud of. As each day passes, the reality of his demise will set in a little more and I’ll stop wishing it weren’t true and simply accept it as fact. In 2008 my brother will most likely get married and I’ll see Omaha for the first time. I’ll probably hate it. In the coming year, I might find financial independence or I might chicken out and stick to the status quo. I might find some semblance of bravery and go after the things I want with gusto. Time will tell, the days will pass, and they fly by faster every year. 2008 will pass faster than 2007 and I’ll be one year older. Things will continue to change and so will I.

See what happened in 2006.