A new era.

Hey. So, I moved in the internet world.

www.lydiamedeiros.com

The hubby helped me set up a website of my own. I have a tumblr. I try to keep them shorter. Apparently I also just started a blogger without meaning too? So, there are still some adjustments and learning I have to do on the technology front.

In other news I just did a play about my sister. It was healing. Really. And hard. And painful. And wonderful. And I got to see her (well, at least the actress playing her) alive and dancing and laughing again. I looked forward to the "good times" every night. 1 more performance in Baltimore. I'm gonna go write my sister (the older one who is currently living in Australia) now.

"Hallelujah" meanas "Praise the Lord" (in Greek)

I've got a song to write. A song to sing. Here is stage one.

Ripped apart by what I've lost
Wanting to die but unable to rest
Trapped in the midnight of my thoughts
Crawling through the Valley of Death

Though it aches and its sore
and the words barely come forth

I choose to whisper

Hallelujah Praise the Lord.

My face raises from the ground
Barely lifting my eyes
To find that help that You promised
And still wondering why

Though my faith is still shaken
from the life that You've taken

I choose to say

Hallelujah Praise the Lord.

Something strikes in my soul
And falls into my hands
I use Your rod and your staff
As crutches to stand

And as I pull myself up
I see her holding Your cup

And I realize that I have to cry

Hallelujah Praise the Lord.
Hallelujah Praise the Lord
Hallelujah Praise the Lord.

And the day will come
When sorrow will end
And my tears are wiped dry
And, Maura, I see you again
But Jesus, You're Kingdom come now
On this earth that I'm in
And You're name be praised here
As it is in Heaven.

And so I can sing with the angels
and with my sister once more

Hallelujah Praise the Lord

Alpha, Omega, Beginning and End
First and Last, sing it again
Holy is the Lord God Almighty
Who was and IS and Forever will Be


Hallelujah Praise the Lord.

After a year.

How can I get the jumble of words inside my brain to come out in well-placed sentences to exactly express what it is I think and want to say.

usually a song comes to me at this point with the perfect words, rhythm and melody.

But today I am tuneless.

Maybe that means I should write my own music. But my songs would sound like songs from the wailing wall or the women of Troy and people would cry themselves to a point of exhaustion or just go kill themselves when they heard it. So maybe it is a good thing I stopped taking piano lessons after a year and now years later can read music but not write it.

I'm not sad all the time though. Anymore. I remember wondering if I would ever say that.

I'm saying it. There are days when I'm...happy. Yeah. I can't believe it either.

Reading Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand made me happy. probably because i finally finished it. the sense of achievement was grand.

Sitting on the beach in Florida made me happy.

Cuddling with my husband at night now makes me happy. (it used to annoy me that he had this whole side of the bed but insisted on smushing together into my tiny side and space. now i smush into his...)

Ice cream used to make me happy but now all I can see is calories.

Wonder Woman used to make me happy but now I feel like a poor man's wonder woman. more like woman with no wonder.

Perfoming Dear mr. Rosan made me happy.

Performing the Seagull made me happy.

I really want to do a comedy. I want to do Laundry and Bourbon again or Crimes of the Heart. Just something light and funny and not sad.

I do most of my writing to my older sister now.

Now she knows everything. Well. Not everything. I still have a journal for the everything.

And I'm on the worship team again. Third time's the charm, right? First time back on stage at church I stood in the back. Very well-placed. Awkward as hell. Its awkward back there. I'm only a bv so I'm stuck in the back next to the electric guitar hoping I can hear the worship leader so I can harmonize with her and not the guitar and it looks awkward from the audience. I know because when I saw it like that I was like...that looks weird. And then I had to stand back there and I was like, this feels weird too. Which then, made my arms and legs and hands and feet awkward as well. Hopefully my voice was nice and friendly.

I don't like pretending to be happy. I still pretend a lot. People don't expect me to. I expect me too. Especially if I am at church. weird. I know. I should change. but I'm almost thirty now so its harder to change.

Am I really almost thirty? in 2.5 years I will be 30. that is really weird. but not as depressing as I think I feel. 2.5 years closer to Maura. =) Death must be sweet.

I still think about death all the time. There was a verse in Proverbs or Ecclesiastes about people who have gone through loss or pain are made wiser because they think about death and the brevity of life. i thought, "yippee." Actually I got really prideful and was like, "Yeah, I'm so wise because i've been through death." So, I still think about myself too much and have too much arrogance.

WHen i went home to be with my mom and dad for the one year anniversary I was a selfish, petulant child. When will I ever grow up? Be wise?

Lord, my prayer now? Can you help me take my eyes off of me? Its always "me, me, me" in my prayers, "Lord, please I need a job. not just any job. An acting job in NY that pays well. Make it Broadway or TV or film!" "Lord, no one understands me. I'm so hurt and poor me." "God I can't read my Bible this morning because I'd rather lay on the couch and figure out what to do with all my time."

Excuses excuses and excuses.
laziness
lying
big pride
gossip
unfriendly thoughts for people
judgment
lots of judgement
selfishness

I plead guilty as charged. my sentence is?

I have no idea. I'm scared its that I'll never earn enough in acting and end up having children and living in the suburbs and telling everyone all my dreams came true when my child was born and secretly regretting and resenting because I never got to do what I wanted to do.

And yet. I also want God to change me heart. To make me a person who cares about other people and wants to help others and puts other people first.

But the truth is. I don't yet. I do sometimes. But definitely not all the time or even most of the time. Even now as i write, I'm still sending up little prayers to God--please help me book a job!

I'm afraid of failure.
I'm afraid I've ruined the memory of my sister or sacrificed something sacred because I've used her in every single play I've done since her death even though everyone advised against it. Every play except the one about cancer oddly enough. Maybe I just wouldn't allow myself to go there. Maybe because the part didn't require an emotional break down. see why I need a comedy?

My aunt said my sister is moving closer and closer to sainthood. because of all the good things everyone remembers about her.

When I was home in Texas my mom made a comment when we were talking with one of our friends who just had a baby and they asked me when I'm going to have one and I said not for a while. She said, "No, you're not ready for a baby." Maybe it was my imagination, but to me it felt like a slap and the sting still hurts. I would like kids. I just am selfish. I think that's what my mom meant.

I'm scared I'll never be selfless enough to have children and be a good mother. So I keep taking birth control. no room for errors. If I have a kid, I will fuck it up. SO take you pills.

Writing to my sister makes me happy. Especially when I get to tell her funny things. Sometimes I tell her the sad things and then I feel bad because I know she will feel badly when she gets my letter. So I try to find funny anecdotes to tell her about. Like blowing up Joao's birthday lasagna and my misfortunes at the dentist's office.

Letters to Juliet came out with Chris Egan. that made me happy. because I remember taking her picture with him on the set of Kings and us giggling about it all night and I was the hero sister because I made that photo last forever so he'd keep his arm around her.

I remember her in her red dress, black beret and black boots and black coat in the snow.

And I still really miss her.

And I still really wish she was here and laughing.

And I don't believe she was perfect. But i can't remember anything bad she ever did. I remember her buck teeth. And her screaming at the top of her lungs upstairs when she was angry. And playing samurai warriors with giant pillows in daddy's jackets we had on making us super puffy. And I remember the first time i realized she was funny and had a personality. At Michael and Mandy's beach house.

I find myself wishing I'd been more like Maura. Had had more fun in high school. Had not taken life so seriously. Had been free to relax, not worry, laugh, made friends everywhere, been the girl who uses her popularity for good. (as opposed to me who just had no popularity...)

I wish I was a better person like my sister.

I also feel like I've said this before.

Well. i guess its still true. I have to shower and go to worship team rehearsal. So much for working out.

Man, I really need to lose weight. summer is here.

10

Ten Toes
Ten Fingers
Ten Commandments
Ten Steps on our stairs
Ten Ninety-nine tax form
Ten Days since my last period
Ten o'clock bedtime on holidays
Ten AM wake up time on Saturdays
Ten Thousand Villages (Shannon will know that one)

Ten months since I last held you close and whispered that I love you.

Dinkle

I started writing your movie, Maura. I have the first 3 scenes done. I couldn't sleep Monday night since the theater was black and I'm used to being up late because of the play...so, I tossed and turned and finally got up and started writing all the dialogue that was playing in my brain refusing to let me go to sleep.

Its good. Its true. Its us: you, me and Danielle. Its just the beginning.

So many things to say. so many characters...I mean, so many people whose life you affected in just that little time. It will take more than just 1 movie. And I don't want to leave anything out. So I will have to take my time trying to figure out how to combine it all...or just write 3 different movies I suppose.

And I didn't cry as I wrote. For the first time. The memories made me happy instead. Because I'm worried that my play or my movie will be so sad because of all the sadness I feel in missing you...but I don't want the feeling of it to be what I feel...I want the feeling to be how you made people feel...I want it to be funny. I want it to be light. I want it to be warm and loving and wonderful and beautiful and touching and memorable--I want it to carry your essence. Not mine. How do I do that?

Maybe it will be a TV series like you said. So many stories to weave in...what did you say when you were delirious?-- Lydia's show on Friday nights and it was funny. And its called Dinkle.

I haven't forgotten.

9 months

9 months is the time it takes for a baby to grow before it is ready to be born.

Tonight I'm going to a "remembrance ceremony" at Gilda's Club. I get to bring pictures and articles to put on a table for Maura. They added her name to the list of people whose names will scroll down--names of people who died of cancer in 2009. And they have to scroll the names...does that mean there are a multitude? And I'll be waiting for the one second when Maura's name flashes on the screen.

Maura.

9 months Maura. I feel like some days I live in the unreality. The only "real" part of life I feel is when I'm in rehearsal. Isn't it ironic...don't ya think?

We're all broken pieces of shattered stained glass trying to fit together in some way to make a piece of art.

I love art. Art--whether its theater, or music, or dance, or photography...whatever it is..it's like alcohol. It has the power to make you forget.

When something artistic is happening, I find joy. Real joy.

I feel funny church doesn't bring me that kind of joy.

But then again, maybe that is whey God created art...if we love because He first loved us, then perhaps we create because he first created us. And perhaps sharing in an artistic experience isn't selfish at all. Perhaps its just a necessary part of being a human created in God's own image. Something we have to do to find that one little drop of who we really are. Everything gets tangled up in the sticky web of whats going on at this moment...what has gone on..what have I suffered, what will I suffer...what can I avoid suffering...but Art is about now. My experience with it now. today. this moment. Is always different than tomorrow or yesterday. A scene is never exactly the same two times in a row...thank goodness! Or who would want to do it. We're always reaching for higher things.

The pursuit of the ideal?

My old acting teacher called me yesterday. Just to hear his voice. I was surprised and not surprised at how affected I was that Mark would call me. To say hello. To talk about life. About theater. About God. About Arena Theater.

I have nostalgic feelings.

Nostalgia for what life used to be like. All the "golden" memories in my head of my sisters and my parents and the foster kids and the craziness and the Disney revues on the coffee table. And my memories are full of laughter.

"I used to be so happy as a child. I would wake up singing. I loved life. I loved you. I had such dreams."--Nina from the Seagull.

I did that bit for my audition for The Seagull. Because I know something about that.

I am the Seagull. No I'm not. I'm the actress.

We open in March.

9 months.

Maura. I will look for your name tonight and honor you and all the memories I have of you. I wish they could scroll through my head and see how you are in every corner of my thoughts. I miss you so much dear sister. I long to hug you again. And laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh...maybe that is Heaven. You, me, Danielle, Mom and Dad sitting at a dinner table, drinking mimosas and laughing and laughing and laughing and laughing...

Mark was right. I am forever changed and I cannot go back. It only matters what we do going forward. But I want to live in the past because I feel like the past is where you are. But the past is where you were. You are not in my present. But you will be in my future.

Happy thoughts.

So...my melancholy mood and sick body have decided to try and think happy thoughts in order to change things around. Problem is...every happy thought reminds me how sad I am. All the normal happy thoughts create sad reminiscences.

NEWS: I managed to go two days without crying. And before that, I lost count how many days. As soon as I remembered to keep count, I started crying again.

I still have dreams. Sometimes I wake up and I can't remember the dream, I can only remember her in it.

I miss Danielle. But she sounds happy in Australia. With all the sunshine and the really good-looking Outback men. I hope she brings one home. Not for me !! ...for her...

Ha! That made me laugh. good.

the chicken commercials in the Superbowl made me laugh.

Joao doing his happy dance.

SNL--Dom Draper as Sergio

better get back to researching vacations.

that is also a happy thought...

Like a broken record inside my head.

"Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall.
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the King's horses
And all the King's men
Couldn't put Humpty together again."

When you ask me how I'm doing. This is what I want to say.

Dear God,

tell my sister I miss her.

There's a little girl I teach in the morning who looks just like she used to look as a little girl. I took one look at her this morning and had to literally FIGHT to keep it together. And she just smiled at me. I looked away. There I was in front of a room of 3rd graders and it was like May all over again.

Hey kids, have you ever seen a grown woman cry?

Thanks to you, God, I kept it together.

Until I came home and cleaned out my closet. A lot of her clothes hang in her closet. I took out the grey shirt. I don't wear it. I haven't ever worn it. It doesn't fit me. But we bought it together. A year ago. Exactly. When she came to visit me in January while she was off chemo. And I can see dressing in the spare room in Madeline's apartment, putting it on with those yellow tights and wearing it as a dress.

Ah, see, now that makes me laugh. Her wearing this silly shirt as a dress with her skinny yellow legs underneath.

laugh and cry.

God, I miss her.

Lately I'm haunted by "normal" dreams. It always me, Danielle, and Maura doing something normal. Sitting at a table and eating. Walking to the store. There we are...Doing something normal. And then I wake up and remember my reality.

New Years was hard. I HATE 2009. My mom is good about it. She's hopeful. She looks at the good. I should look at the good. But mostly I want to say, "fuck the sunny-side of the street I hate all optimists." I don't really but sometimes I do.

I hate 2009.
I loved January.

I have a list growing in my head of days of the year that used to be my favorites and are now on my list of "Days I would rather sleep through":
Christmas
Thanksgiving
New Years
June 23rd
May 19
January 14
Sundays

I hate sundays, God. I go to church now out of obligation rather than because I like it. I hate singing songs of praise at church. Either I cry through them and know a glimpse of your goodness but don't feel it at all, or I obstinately refuse to praise. I know thats wrong. I KNOW I'm supposed to praise You under all circumstances. But

I'm very angry with you.

I'm sorry. But I am.

I feel betrayed by You. Like stabbed in the heart betrayed.

I still believe You're God. I can't ever doubt you.

I just don't feel like you actually do have a plan for my life no matter what Jeremiah says.

I feel that it is all chance. That you really aren't in control. You just let things happen as they happen.

I think you're merciful for bringing Maura to Heaven so she can be happier.

And I feel you are cruel and selfish for leaving us here without her.

And most of all I feel you are NO HELP AT ALL in the comforting department. I feel worse than I did 7 months ago.
I still see her face the last way I saw it. Almost lifeless. Barely breathing. But I guess I should thank you that I see her still with life. Unless I think about it, her lifeless face and body aren't my first thought.

Her hands are.

Her hugs are.

Her smile is.

Her hair.

Her teeth.

Her eyes.

Her laugh.

The way she said my name.

The way she made fun of our parents in a loving way.

The way she made fun of me. "Nerd Alert!"

Yes, I'm very angry. At You. At 2009. At cancer. At Death. At everybody who gets in my way at the wrong time.

I don't know how to fix my head on good thoughts. I feel like my brain has become a dumping ground for negative thoughts and I snub any thoughts of positivity and judge it as false to its core.

Aren't we supposed to be truthful?

I'm unhappy and I don't know how to be "Happy-go-lucky" again.

I'm sad. Almost all the time.

I'm angry when I'm not sad.

I feel like You've abandoned me.

"My enemy has chased me.
He has knocked me to the ground
and forces me to live in darkness like those in the grave.
I am losing all hope;
I am paralyzed with fear.
I remember the days of old.
...
I thirst for you as parched land thirsts for rain.

Come quickly, Lord, and answer me,
for my depression deepens.
Don't turn away from me,
or I will die.
Let me hear of your unfailing love...
Show me where to walk...
Rescue me from my enemies, Lord..."
Psalm 143:3-9


I should be thankful for what I have. I find it hard to count my blessings.

Alright. I'll force myself. But don't ask for more than You'll get.

1. Joao
2. Mom
3. Dad
4. Danielle
5. Isabelle
6. Xico
7. Christine
8. Andre
9. Jessica
10. Benton
11. Maura. all 22 years and 11 months of her life.
12. Bianca
13. Sascha
14. Nicole
15. April
16. Hannah
17. Sheena
18. Shannon
19. Anna
20. Pam
21. My grey Bible with a sword on it that Maura found for me.
22. Ezra
24. Chocolate
25. Dear Mr. Rosan
26. Matt Weaver


That's all you get. But that is a lot. I was wrong. I do have a lot to be thankful for. Maybe I should do this every night.

Don't think this means I've forgiven You. We're still on shaky ground. But thank you for those things anyway. I appreciate them. Thank you.

Beijos,

Lydia