Salvation in Seattle

Good morning:
I am aware that my recent blog posts have had a melancholy undertone (that may be the understatment of the century!). So I'm gonna try to be upbeat. HAHAHAHAHA (that was quasi-hysterical laughter there). The irony of it all is that I am characteristically a positive, upbeat, glass-half full, rainbows and sunshine kinda gal. I am a Sagittarius after all (so is Russell Wilson, the QB of my favorite team, the Seattle Seahawks...just sayin'). Speaking of the Seahawks...
I don't think anybody who knows me was/is aware of my passion for the NFL. For the record, I am a late-bloomer where professional football is concerned. It's only been the last three or four years that I've actually paid it any attention.
It used to be that I liked having the football games on the TV because I liked the sound of it. I didn't necessarily understand what those dudes were doing on the field besides throwing the ball around and trying to get it past the goal posts. Frankly, it wasn't all that interesting to me. But I liked the sound of it. And by sound, I mean the actual, literal sound (not the idea of it but the actual, physical sound). I liked the roar of the crowds. I got a kick out of the QB yelling nonsensical jibber-jabber to his teammates that had important meaning to them. The commercials were entertaining, for the most part. And sometimes the talking heads, i.e., the sportscasters would say the most inane things that would catch my attention and make me chuckle as I read a book or cleaned or baked or whatever I was doing while the game was on keeping me company. By the way, in case you don't know, Terry Bradshaw (someone who often says inane and funny things) happens to be my cousin. His grandmother and my paternal grandmother were sisters. He is from Louisiana and this past year I had several occasions to ride on his highway--the Terry Bradshaw Highway. That always made me laugh in its absurdity. I'm not doggin' on Terry. He's alright.
Anyway, getting back to the Seahawks. When I was a student at Kent State University studying journalism a hundred years ago, I had an occasion to cover the sports beat of the Daily Kent Stater newspaper (we had to cover all the beats to get a feel of every kind of story that makes up a newspaper). It happened to be January and almost Super Bowl time. I was given the assignment of interviewing a football player who was in town visiting family. He happened to play for the Seahawks (they were not playing in the Super Bowl). We had a nice chat--he was very nice and I got a cute story out of the interview in which he diplomatically refused to make a prediction as to who would win. I couldn't remember his name so I went back and did some research on-line (how did we survive before Google?) and I found the guy. His name is Jeff West. He was a punter back in the day. The Seahawks were a relatively new team back in the 80's--nobody really paid them much attention as I recall. Anyway, that was my first connection to the Seahawks. I wrote the story and promptly forgot they existed (I think most of the country did, too).
A couple of years ago I started paying more attention to football. I suddenly found it interesting because I came to the realization that it wasn't as complicated as I thought it was. There is actually a method to the madness out on the field. I found myself getting caught up in the momentum of the games and I noticed that sometimes I would make a comment on what I'd just seen on the field and within seconds, one of the commentators would say exactly what I'd just said. Except I'd said it first! And then I started talking to the players in my head (and sometimes out loud)--telling them how to play the ball--how to run it...whom to pass it to...which way to run up the field...when the QB should pass it vs. just run it himself...whether to use their time-outs or just keep playing...yada, yada, yada. And I noticed they were listening to me! (Well, not really, but it seemed like they were cuz they were doing what I was telling them to even though I was thousands or hundreds of miles away in my living room in Ohio).
I developed a love for two teams; The Buffalo Bills and The New England Patriots. I was a faithful fan for a while but eventually I broke up with them. I ended it with the Bills due to irreconcilable differences and I broke up with the Patriots because of Tom Brady. He turned Hollywood and became untouchable. But I never forgot those Seattle Seahawks. The problem was their games rarely, if ever, played on TV in my area, but I'd occasionally read about them in the newspaper and keep up with their progress. And I even cried when they lost to the Falcons 28 to 30 last year. It's the only time I've ever shed actual tears over a football game.
Until last week I loved San Francisco (but I deleted their app from my phone and ended it with them because they're not nice. I replaced them with the team they beat, the Panthers). I also love the Raiders and the Buccaneers (I've always had a thing for pirates, thank you, Captain Jack Sparrow) and the Chargers and, of course, the Seahawks...
And here's why I love, and am indebted to, the Seattle Seahawks:
Last fall I was in Texas and because we had Directv (and the package called NFL Sunday Ticket) we were able to watch all the games every week. So I got to watch my Seahawks (cuz they're mine, you know). And my love for them grew by leaps and bounds. They're classy, smart, scrappy, excellent at overcoming great odds and coming from way behind and just darned nice guys. And while I was enmeshed in darkness down in Texas, suffering in a situation that was breaking my spirit and I was feeling awfully close to losing my mind, the Seattle Seahawks became my escape. I downloaded their app into my phone. I studied the players' stats. I got to know them via their Wikipedia entries. They were my escape...and in a weird way, my salvation. Because when the Seahawks were playing I knew that for at least three hours I didn't have to think about the situation I was in. I could forget for a few hours that my heart was being bull-dozed and my psyche was being undermined by a master manipulator. I felt happy when I saw their blue and green colors on the big screen TV. I fell in love with Russell Wilson and Marshawn Lynch and Steven Hauschka and Golden Tate and Percy Harvin and Earl Thomas (and yes, even that rascal Breno Giacomini) and all the rest of them.
During Thanksgiving week I flew to Seattle in search of a feeling...a sense of beloning. I drove to Renton where the Seahawks practice and felt their magic. I drove through Seattle and saw CenturyLink Field where they play and I felt their spirit. I bought some Seahawks souvenirs so I could have a piece of them with me--a tangible bit of evidence of their realness. They helped me through dark days and nights when I felt like the a lost soul in an empty world.
Thank you, Seattle Seahawks, for being the classy, cool team you are. Thank you for being with me when I needed something to hold onto. You were a beacon in my storm and I will always be your number one fan. And no matter what happens tomorrow night when you take on the 49ers, you will always be a winner to me. Good luck, guys!
Until next time,
KH

Bittersweet

     One of my favorite words is bittersweet. As a matter of fact, I keep a list of my favorite words in the notepad of my phone. I also keep a list of the most beautiful songs I've ever heard, some of which are sad. I mentioned one of those songs in my last blog post. I'm a list kind of person, come to think of it. But today I'm thinking of the word bittersweet. Everybody knows what this words means, but I decided to look up the definition on Google. And I learned something new. It has four meanings! Here they are in the order listed in TheFreeDictionary.com:
1. A woody vine of the genus Celastrus especially the North American species C. scandens and the eastern Asian species C. orbiculata, having small, round, yellow-orange fruits that open at maturity to expose red seeds. Also called the staff tree. Also called bittersweet nightshade.
2. The color of dark to deep reddish orange.
3. The taste of bitter and sweet at the same time (as in chocolate).
4. Producing or expressing a mixture of pain and pleasure (at the same time).
     There is no doubt I have just rounded the corner of a bittersweet year and what a crazy ride 2013 was! First of all, I can't believe my crazy year is already over. Seriously, how does time go by so fast? Does global warming have something to do with it? Ha ha! Just kidding (though I do believe in global warming in terms of its effects on climate). But...how is it 2014 already and not only that but January is already half over? Wow!
     Time and distance are two concepts that fascinate me and they both played a part in my bittersweet year. Last year I got high--seriously high--and then I got knocked down--hard. I travelled thousands of miles, experienced emotions to an extreme level and felt time pass. I actually felt it. I saw it, too, in an abstract way. Last October 20 was day one of 60 days I spent in a time warp. I lived in a red, metal castle like some weird, modern day Rapunzel (minus the hair, though I do have long hair) waiting for Dec. 20, the day I would be set free from a life I loved and didn't want to give up. But I knew I needed to get out because it was killing me to be there--not physically, but in every other way that can cause harm to a human being. I was engaged in psychological warfare and definitely on the losing team--until Dec. 20. That day in the courtroom, I was proud of myself. I was composed. I didn't shed a tear. I didn't even feel nervous. I think I even smiled. It helped that my Tom was there giving me silent strength like he always does. And I had a great lawyer. My lawyer was great because he had been down that road before with the first Mrs. Hernandez. Little did I know when I randomly chose his law firm from Google that I had unwittingly chosen the same law firm who'd represented the one who came before me. And the lawyer who was randomly chosen to represent me was--believe it or not--the same exact one who'd freed the first wife from the metaphorical prison. And I can call it a prison because that's exactly what it was--a beautiful, twisted, enchanting, dark, bittersweet prison.
You may be wondering--what the heck is she talking about? what does she mean by prison? just how bad was it down there in Texas? Is she making this stuff up? It sounds crazy!
And that's because it was. It was crazy and amazing and bizarre and seriously twisted--you can't make up what happened to me in Texas. I am currently writing a memoir about my experience. I am already 60,000 words in. And I have also written a piece for the New York Times about it. I am waiting to hear if they are going to publish it. If they don't, I'll post it here in this blog. But when you read it, you'll have to keep in mind, you're getting the condensed version--the 'bittersweet' version. In my memoir you'll read about the dark stuff. For the NYT I kept it slightly more upbeat (and that's putting it mildly). There is no doubt about it--I had quite a year. But you want to know the weirdest part of all? The part that I can't even believe myself? Though it was bittersweet and sad and deeply painful, I have no regrets.
I wouldn't have missed it for the world.
Until next time,
KH

The Mystery of Music

Yesterday was elduck's 49th birthday. I sent him a happy birthday text and we did have an occasion to speak on the phone where I again wished him a happy birthday. I didn't ask him what his plans were for his special day because I didn't want to know. Knowing too much about what he's doing these days is still too upsetting for me. Because of this, I had to unfriend everyone I knew in Texas so I wouldn't learn things about his life that could set me back in my recovery. Now, that being said, don't think I'm sitting around crying and moping all day. I most definitely am not! (I did the first week I was back in Ohio but I was beginning to want to punch my own face so I snapped out of it). That's not to say that I don't get sad from time to time. My wound is still fresh and will be for a while, but I can handle it. And the only reason I'm bouncing back as fast as I am is because I have formed a new and interesting friendship with someone who walked in my shoes. If I'd only known then what I know now...sigh...but...in these last days I have learned so much about the world I was enmeshed in down there in Texas. I knew something was wrong in my world but I couldn't figure it out and when I left Texas on December 20, I still didn't know what had happened to me...but I do now. My eyes have been opened and boy, have I seen the proverbial light. I have to keep what I've learned close to my chest for now, but that's what memoirs are for. I will continue writing my memoir from my own innocent perspective as everything unfolded in Texas, but thank goodness for epilogues and afterwards! Only then can I divulge what I learned.
Music is very important to me--it was to me and elduck as a couple, too, and played a big part in our relationship. At the very beginning it seemed like the universe (or the record companies) was writing the soundtrack to our romance. So many songs completely encapsulated our love as it unfolded. So many artists like Justin Timberlake, Hunter Hayes, Muse, Phillip Phillips, etc., had songs out that could have been written just for us. And now I find that the universe (or the record companies) is still at it. It's playing songs that completely align with our ending. And there is one song in particular that I first heard before I left Texas that, when I first heard it, I felt like I'd been kicked in the head. I was stunned by the lyrics and I still am. I hear the song all the time, even now, as it gains in popularity and I'm only just beginning to be able to listen to it without falling apart. The reason this song is so appropriate is because there are actual lyrics in it that I spoke to elduck long before the song was ever released on the radio (at least my radio). I had NEVER heard the song before I spoke lines of it to elduck way back in the later summer and early fall. I'm going to put the lyrics in this blog and hope I don't get sued. I didn't write the song, but I lived it--every word. The song is by A Great Big World and Christina Aguilera and it's called, "Say Something." When you read the following lyrics, imagine my voice, saying the words to elduck. It could have happened. It did happen. It's that right on on the money.

"Say Something" by A Great Big World featuring Christina Aguilera, written by Ian Axel, Chad Vaccarino and Mike Campbell and produced by Dan Romer

"Say something, I'm giving up on you.
I'll be the one, if you want me to.
Anywhere I would've followed you.
Say something, I'm giving up on you.

And I am feeling so small.
It was over my head
I know nothing at all.

And I will stumble and fall.
I'm still learning to love
Just starting to crawl.

Say something, I'm giving up on you.
I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you.
Anywhere I would've followed you.
Say something, I'm giving up on you.

And I will swallow my pride.
You're the one that I love
And I'm saying good-bye.
Say something, I'm giving up on you.
And I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you.
And anywhere I would've followed you. Oh-oh-oh-oh
Say something, I'm giving up on you.

Say something, I'm giving up on you.
Say something..."

I said those words long before I ever knew this song existed. How did they know? I lived those words before ever hearing it. How is that possible? It's the universe...talking to me. The universe is always talking to me...sending me signs...giving me clues...dropping hints...keeping me afloat. It's unfolding exactly as it should...
Until next time,
KH

Try a Little Kindness

Day three of the new year and I'm still trying to get my land legs under me. Some days I feel like I'm walking in quicksand. But I'm learning that when you try to fight your way out of the quicksand that you only get sucked deeper into it. So I'm trying to be still. To give myself time. To take slow, deep breaths and wait this out. Peace is coming but it's not showing up today. It's only been two weeks since I awoke from my coma. I can't expect to be normal just like that. I've heard that it takes half the length of the time that the relationship lasted to get over it, so for me, that'll be about five months, which puts me into May. I kinda dread May. I got married on May 9. But, hey, it's five months away. Maybe by then I'll be able to smile and think happy thoughts about that day one year ago. I wonder how I'll be on February 26. That's the day I slipped and fell into the coma. But again, it's two months away and I'm getting ahead of myself. For now, I must take one day at a time. Though I feel lost and out of sorts right now, I have to believe that in time, I'll find myself. I'll feel normal again,whatever normal is. I've actually had a few moments here and there recently where I've almost convinced myself I made the whole thing up. I FAKED IT! IT NEVER HAPPENED! I TRICKED EVERYONE! But then I feel the pain in my chest and I know it's real. I awaken before dawn and for a few seconds I have no idea where I am. In my bed in Texas? In a hotel in Texarkana? Or Dallas? No. I'm in my old bed in Shaker Heights, in my room with the blue and cream striped wallpaper that reminds me of a French boudoir, with my heart beating so fast that I wonder what's keeping it from running right out of my chest.
     When I was 18 I got my heart broken BADLY. I mean it got shattered beyond all recognition. I never truly got over that heartbreak--it informed every relationship I ever had thereafter and never in a good way. But now I know why it happened. It happened to me at 18 to prepare me for when it happened to me at 53. This time I saw it coming and I was able to prepare myself for the aftermath. Well, for how to deal with it anyway. I can't let this time wreck me like it did the first time. Instead of giving into the pain and making wrong choices about relationships, this time I'll learn the lesson the universe is teaching me. I truly believe the universe is unfolding exactly as it should even though it doesnt always feel like it. One day I will learn why it happened to me. It happened for a reason yet to be revealed to me. But I'll know in time. I've already learned one valuable lesson that I intend to implement into my daily life. I learned that there is another way to live besides the way I was living before my coma. I was on the right track with my life before, but I hadn't completely nailed it. Here's what I confirmed:
There is absolutely no need for impatience, unkind words, cruelty or rudeness. Every situation can be handled with a gentle voice, a calm demeanor, courtesy and patience. There is no need for road rage. There is no need to freak out over a broken plate, a dented bumper, a spilled drink, a failed exam, a bill that can't be paid or a dream unfulfilled. It just doesn't help. Every question has an answer and every problem has a solution. It's our mission to figure it out. Even if it takes ten weeks and breaking someone's heart to get the answer. Or if it takes a lifetime. Just stay calm, cool and kind. That's the way we lived in Texas every day, even when it was clear that there was something terribly wrong beneath the surface. We stayed calm, used quiet voices and spoke kindly. When someone broke the kindness rule, they were called on it...with kindness. It's the only way to live--without fear of being criticized or yelled at or made to feel inferior. We were allowed to make mistakes without fear of reprisal. We were allowed to live in peace even when a silent war raged all around us.
I'm done philosophizing for now. But I'm not done searching for answers to the big questions--the whys and the whens and the hows. Everything will be revealed in time. I'm gonna figure it out...and whatever your dilemma is, you'll figure it out, too. Good luck to all of us!
Until next time,
KH

My Coma

Greetings World:
I recently awakened from a 10-month coma and am slowly re-entering the world. I can't help but notice that it's in much the same condition as when I went to sleep on February 26, 2013. For 10 months I slept soundly while the world turned without me. Now I'm awake and there is snow everywhere. I seem to recall there was some snow on the ground when I went to sleep. It was cold, for sure--I remember the cold. I slept through spring, summer and fall and awoke on the first day of winter. I had a birthday during my long sleep. I was given flowers for my birthday--there is picture of them on my iPhone for proof. Apparently during my long sleep, I went on Facebook a few times and posted my status--I even wrote a few, random blog posts and posted pictures of cows! I even got married! I didn't know it was possible to do anything at all while in a coma. I must have had talented 'care-givers.' In any case, I am awake now and learning to readjust to life in the waking world. It's not easy.
On Februrary 26 I began 'writing' a fairy tale in which I was the heroine. I wrote and wrote and crafted my perfect prince and went to live with him on a ranch in Texas. It was one heck of a story. We had some adventures that you would not believe! The fairy tale was perfect except for one tiny thing. I forgot the most important part of any fairy tale: the happy ending. And on December 20 I awoke in the most unlikeliest of places: a Texas courthouse. I was on the witness stand being questioned by an attorney and a judge among a roomful of strangers. I saw only one familiar face in the crowd: my number one caregiver, Tom. I probably wouldn't have awakened from the coma without him coaxing me back to 'life.'
I have very distinct memories of what happened to me while I was in the coma. I went places. I met people. I cooked. I baked. I played pool and tennis and ping pong. I went to a rodeo and a fair and a few movies and I even went diamond-hunting in Arkansas. I went to New Mexico and Old Mexico and El Paso and Dallas and Shreveport and Oklahoma. I also went to Seattle and Whidbey Island. I got around! I developed a taste for avocados and tortillas and coffee and blueberry-pecan waffles. I got my religion on and went to a most unusual church. I talked to cows and horses. I bonded with a kitten named Tweaker. I fell four times--three times physically and one time emotionally. The emotional fall was fatal, but like a phoenix, I arose from the ashes. Who says guardian angels aren't real? I believe in them!
I am recuperating in Cleveland, back in the same place where I first became comatose. I'm here till I'm able to travel--to the Pacific Northwest, to a beautiful island I visited in my coma. I felt at home there.
When I awoke from the coma I had three pieces of incontrovertible proof that I didn't imagine the whole thing: 1) An eyewitness. Tom was with me from beginning to end. He saw it all, from the fall that put me in the coma to the moment I awoke in the courthouse. 2) A mind-bending pain in the chest that tells me I'm alive and it was all real and 3) A new last name. That one's hard to explain, but I saw my driver's license so apparently my name is now Kellie Hernandez.
I can't say it's good to be awake. Not yet. But in time, as I get stronger, I'll feel better. I'll be more sociable and talkative. Right now, I'm still trying to adjust and see what I missed while I was asleep. And you can be sure of one thing:
I am writing a memoir about my time in my Texas coma. I'm already 30,000 plus words in. As I write and re-read my writing, I cannot believe some of the things that happened to me during those 10 months. There is not one Hollywood screenwriter sitting in an air-conditioned office on Sunset Boulevard who could write this story. No one could make this stuff up--NO ONE! If you look up the phrase "Truth is Stranger than Fiction" in a book of quotes, you'll see my picture there! I lived quite a life in those 10 months and met some fascinating people. I can't wait until you all have a chance to read my story and see it for yourself. You won't believe it.
I shall close here and wish you all a Happy New Year! I'm looking forward to 2014 but I can't imagine how it could top 2013 for sheer shock value. But you know what? I hope it does because I am ready for some genuine peace and happiness. To find peace and happiness would be highly shocking! Bring it on, 2014!
Until next time!
Kellie Hernandez (according to my new Texas driver's license)

Memory

                                                                          
I know it's been a while since my last blog entry but this time there is a reason. I just haven't wanted to write. Well, actually, I've been afraid to write. My life is currently going through a swirl of change and it's taking all of my energy and mental capacity to stay focused on matters at hand.
At the moment I am sitting in my home in New Boston, Texas, looking out the window wall at the gorgeous 25 acres of land. The grasses are wild and colorful and I see leaves flying off trees. The sky is pale blue in some places and gray in others. Every so often the sun breaks through the gray and shines on the earth. It's a beautiful sight and I am committing it to memory.
Lately a few of the neighbor's cows have escaped through a break in the fence and have wandered onto our property. I love those crazy cows, especially the calf that walked up the driveway and lounged under the pecan tree. There are several new calves next door and I think they're sweet. I am committing them to memory.
I am sitting on the couch in the living room at the moment. The gorgeous fireplace is in front of me. It has never had a fire in it but it will this winter. The logs on the hearth are still encased in their plastic wrapping, waiting for a day cold enough to light them. As much as I hate to be cold, I hope we get a wintry day soon so I can see a fire in that fireplace. It's a see-through fireplace between the living room and the kitchen and it's going to look magical. I need to see a fire in it. I want to commmit it to memory.
I am thinking of all of the yummy Mexican foods my husband has made for me since I moved to Texas. That man will put anything in a tortilla. Once he made me a bologna burrito. It was good! Who knew? I love the way he puts avocado, cottage cheese and regular cheese on everything, plus a lot of salt and hot sauce and red pepper flakes and spicy seasonings. He makes a dish called entomatillos (I think this is how you spell it) which is nothing more than chopped up corn tortillas fried in a little oil with a couple of small cans of tomato sauce poured over it, some salt and cheese over the top. So good and so easy. I am committing these tastes and smells to memory.
Memory is the process in which information is encoded, stored and retrieved: You receive and process information, then create a permanent record of that information and put it away in the recesses of your subconscious and one day, when you need it, you call it back to your conscious mind and use it as you see fit.
Time and Memory are like a married couple perfectly matched. Time creates Memory while Memory lives on in Time. I am Time. And I am committing Memory to memory.
I apologize for the dark tone of this blog post. I am feeling melancholy and wistful these days but I know (thanks to Time), that this, too, shall pass.
Before I forget, The Shadow King should be out in November. I am rushing to get it out into the world. Time is of the essence and there are many loose ends to tie up in my writing life. I have put aside my Crescent trilogy for the time being because another, more pressing writing project has presented itself to me. It is a memoir with the working title of Fairy Tale (the title will eventually change) and it is about my sojourn in Texas. It begins in Ohio, moves on to Texas and ends in a whole new world. Stay tuned.

Picasso's La Vie (Life)

                                                                             

Time to chat a bit to the world at large. I've been experiencing strange days but I keep remembering a saying I heard a few months back that really helps me keep my wits about me and my perspective on track: "Everything will be alright in the end. If it's not alright...it's not the end." I really believe that. As I mentioned in my last post, I recently experienced a blue period, but unlike Picasso's Blue Period, my blue period did not produce works of art or even words on a computer screen. All it did was make me BLUE. In trying to understand the cause of my blues, I determined it has a lot to do with reality setting in: the reality of living in a new home in a new state with new people and navigating a new life that is so different from the one I left behind. But I have never been afraid of change...of trying something new...of being somewhere else. There is a reason this blog is called Somewhere Else. And in case anyone out there who might be reading this thinks I regret my decision to embark upon a new life with a man I married a mere 13 days after meeting him in person for the first time (after two months of getting to know each other via telephone calls, text messages, emails and words with friends chats), I want you to know, I do not regret my decision. I love my husband and it gives me great joy to be able to type these four words: Oscar: I love you! Happy four-month anniversary today!

So.....The Dark Prince is out. I have submitted my Gypsy treatment to some Hollywood producers and I am preparing to bring The Shadow King into the world. I cannot wait to reveal the cover. It's gorgeous and very dramatic. You'll see Andrew on the cover. It's not quite ready but I expect it will be in the next few days. I am very excited! If you've been reading my trilogy, please message me and let me know what you think about Laura's journey so far. And let me know which boy you love and want Laura to be with. I suspect you'll all pick Miguel, but don't count Andrew out! He has surprises in store.

I shall close here but before I do, I want to wish Rina a happy birthday! She's my grandbaby's mom. And I will leave you with this awesome quote supposedly uttered by a man named Patrick Overton (I don't know who he is):

"When you come to the edge of all the light you know and are about to step off into the darkness of the unknown, faith is knowing one of two things will happen: there will be something solid to stand on or you will be taught how to fly."

Love that! Until next time!

KH