Speaking of getting a dog...
I feel that it is terribly unfair that goddess made dogs without ass cheeks because there is simply no warning when they let a nasty, smelly one rip. Especially in the small confines of a moving automobile.
That is all.
Thursday, December 09, 2010
Long Train Rolling
So here I sit in the University center waiting for my next class to start.
A lot has happened in the last year and a half since my last posting.
I got laid off from work. I finally figured out what I want to be when I grow up. I applied to and got accepted at a University as a Geology Major. I solidified my new relationship by moving in with her. I got a dog. I got a garden. I nearly lost a sister but ended up closer to her than ever. I didn't get the chance to attend my daughters high school graduation but I got the chance to visit with her over Parent's and Alumni Weekend at her college.
How the hell do I sum up the last year and a half. I don't think I can. I think I just start from here, in my new life, and go from there.
So, here I sit in the University center waiting for my next class to start trying to wrap my head around being back in school after 20 years. Correction, I am trying to wrap my head around doing really well in school after crashing and totally burning 20 years ago.
Sometime soon that will actually sink in. :-)
A lot has happened in the last year and a half since my last posting.
I got laid off from work. I finally figured out what I want to be when I grow up. I applied to and got accepted at a University as a Geology Major. I solidified my new relationship by moving in with her. I got a dog. I got a garden. I nearly lost a sister but ended up closer to her than ever. I didn't get the chance to attend my daughters high school graduation but I got the chance to visit with her over Parent's and Alumni Weekend at her college.
How the hell do I sum up the last year and a half. I don't think I can. I think I just start from here, in my new life, and go from there.
So, here I sit in the University center waiting for my next class to start trying to wrap my head around being back in school after 20 years. Correction, I am trying to wrap my head around doing really well in school after crashing and totally burning 20 years ago.
Sometime soon that will actually sink in. :-)
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Bad Music
Hello everyone. I have been a very bad blogger in that I got a life for a little while there and stopped blogging. Ok, well, that was just rude. I am PMSing and have had a couple of shittastic days so what do you expect. The rest of this post, while just as snarky, is a lot funnier. :-)
On to the entry.
My internet at home has been turned off. It was turned off because I didn't pay the bill for three months. The first two months are my fault because I have CRS desease and didn't get a bill in the mail. The last month was because at the end of the second month, when I thought to myself "hmmm. I haven't paid the internet bill" I went online and checked the amount I owe. The total was MUCH higher than what it should have been. So I called Comcast and asked them what was up. Turns out my CRS disease had kicked in before and caused me to not turn a piece of equipment in to them. I dutifully turned it in a day (or two) later. Then I waited for them to remove that charge so that I could see what I really owed. Six weeks later the no return fee is still on my account, I have talked with them 4 times on the phone, faxed the reciept for the equipment I did return, did an online chat with their customer service (because apparently when your service has been cut off you are not allowed to talk with customer service on the phone anymore, you get redirected to a quite grumpy woman with severe attitude issues who works for their billing department) and on the suggestion of the online chat customer service rep drove to my local office two days in a row, the second day having left my office (an hour and a half away) with enough time to make it before they closed so that I could argue with someone in person and pay what I really owe and get my service turned back on. I was 3 minutes too late and the office was closed. The nice lady working behind the counter did look a little sypathetic through the window while she gestured that they were closed after I banged on it and begged to be let in.
But I digress in my explaining why I am at my local coffee shop (with free WiFi) willingly subjecting myself to bad music.
Basically, I have no internet at home. I am an internet junkie but I cannot bring myself to pay over 500 dollars to have my service turned back on when all I owe is $198. The name of this cute little coffee shop is Jumpin Java (www.jumpinjava.net) and it is in Charles Town West Virginia. (Ok, before the jokes start I only have one missing tooth and that one is way in the back where you can't see it so that doesn't count. LOL)
Where was I? Oh, Jumpin Java in Charles Town.
Ok, so Jumpin Java is apparently having an open mic night tonight for local musicians. That sounds like a great idea right?
The first guy up is... well, how do I put this?? So bad that my ears are going to start bleeding. He sounds very similar to what I would imagine a guy would sound like if someone was stepping on his testicles while demanding that he whine about the piss poor parts of his life.
GEEBUS! He just said that he has CDs for sale. Ok, good music is apparently dead now. Why didn't get that notice???
Ahhh. He has stopped now. I am hopeing that it gets better or at least this is as bad as it gets.
No, that apparently wasn't as bad as it could get.
No, not even close.
I am sitting here, with home made ear plugs (rolled up napkins work well) listening to some of the worst "rock" music I have ever heard. Don't get me wrong, I am a fan of rock music. I have had the time of my life at OzzFest so you know I must have pretty loose taste in what I consider "good" music.
With that in mind...
Oh Sweet F*cking Geebus.
Someone decided to come back and stand on the guy's testicles again. I think they are wearing golf shoes this time.
SHIT! It just got worse... someone is apparently "playing" a trumpet... badly. Very badly in fact.
This is so bad I may just give Comcast the entire $500+ that they think I owe them. Shit, I may toss in a huge tip. Somewhere along the line these guys seem to have gotten the idea that playing louder makes up for a lack of any real talent. Wow. I bet they could get music fans to pay them a lot of money to never, ever, under any circumstances, pick up an instrument or sing... ever... again.
NOW he decides to tune his guitar? I thought that was supposed to be done BEFORE you start playing. That is optional apparently. Well, singing anywhere close to on key definitely is.
Now they are using an accordion help to create some sort of "Ozzfest meets Haight Ashbury" sort of thing. Too many drugs perhaps? Too much Guitar Hero playing that deluded them into thinking they have any sort of talent whatsoever for music? Too many "friends" who just didn't have the guts to tell these guys the truth that they... well... totally suck?
I am betting that it would be considered rude to go up, tear the bass out of the player's hands and beat the lead guitarist with it huh? I do wonder though... how many of these folks in this coffee shop would cheer for that very action?
I now understand the value in auditions.
On to the entry.
My internet at home has been turned off. It was turned off because I didn't pay the bill for three months. The first two months are my fault because I have CRS desease and didn't get a bill in the mail. The last month was because at the end of the second month, when I thought to myself "hmmm. I haven't paid the internet bill" I went online and checked the amount I owe. The total was MUCH higher than what it should have been. So I called Comcast and asked them what was up. Turns out my CRS disease had kicked in before and caused me to not turn a piece of equipment in to them. I dutifully turned it in a day (or two) later. Then I waited for them to remove that charge so that I could see what I really owed. Six weeks later the no return fee is still on my account, I have talked with them 4 times on the phone, faxed the reciept for the equipment I did return, did an online chat with their customer service (because apparently when your service has been cut off you are not allowed to talk with customer service on the phone anymore, you get redirected to a quite grumpy woman with severe attitude issues who works for their billing department) and on the suggestion of the online chat customer service rep drove to my local office two days in a row, the second day having left my office (an hour and a half away) with enough time to make it before they closed so that I could argue with someone in person and pay what I really owe and get my service turned back on. I was 3 minutes too late and the office was closed. The nice lady working behind the counter did look a little sypathetic through the window while she gestured that they were closed after I banged on it and begged to be let in.
But I digress in my explaining why I am at my local coffee shop (with free WiFi) willingly subjecting myself to bad music.
Basically, I have no internet at home. I am an internet junkie but I cannot bring myself to pay over 500 dollars to have my service turned back on when all I owe is $198. The name of this cute little coffee shop is Jumpin Java (www.jumpinjava.net) and it is in Charles Town West Virginia. (Ok, before the jokes start I only have one missing tooth and that one is way in the back where you can't see it so that doesn't count. LOL)
Where was I? Oh, Jumpin Java in Charles Town.
Ok, so Jumpin Java is apparently having an open mic night tonight for local musicians. That sounds like a great idea right?
The first guy up is... well, how do I put this?? So bad that my ears are going to start bleeding. He sounds very similar to what I would imagine a guy would sound like if someone was stepping on his testicles while demanding that he whine about the piss poor parts of his life.
GEEBUS! He just said that he has CDs for sale. Ok, good music is apparently dead now. Why didn't get that notice???
Ahhh. He has stopped now. I am hopeing that it gets better or at least this is as bad as it gets.
No, that apparently wasn't as bad as it could get.
No, not even close.
I am sitting here, with home made ear plugs (rolled up napkins work well) listening to some of the worst "rock" music I have ever heard. Don't get me wrong, I am a fan of rock music. I have had the time of my life at OzzFest so you know I must have pretty loose taste in what I consider "good" music.
With that in mind...
Oh Sweet F*cking Geebus.
Someone decided to come back and stand on the guy's testicles again. I think they are wearing golf shoes this time.
SHIT! It just got worse... someone is apparently "playing" a trumpet... badly. Very badly in fact.
This is so bad I may just give Comcast the entire $500+ that they think I owe them. Shit, I may toss in a huge tip. Somewhere along the line these guys seem to have gotten the idea that playing louder makes up for a lack of any real talent. Wow. I bet they could get music fans to pay them a lot of money to never, ever, under any circumstances, pick up an instrument or sing... ever... again.
NOW he decides to tune his guitar? I thought that was supposed to be done BEFORE you start playing. That is optional apparently. Well, singing anywhere close to on key definitely is.
Now they are using an accordion help to create some sort of "Ozzfest meets Haight Ashbury" sort of thing. Too many drugs perhaps? Too much Guitar Hero playing that deluded them into thinking they have any sort of talent whatsoever for music? Too many "friends" who just didn't have the guts to tell these guys the truth that they... well... totally suck?
I am betting that it would be considered rude to go up, tear the bass out of the player's hands and beat the lead guitarist with it huh? I do wonder though... how many of these folks in this coffee shop would cheer for that very action?
I now understand the value in auditions.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Lenten Blogging Part 5 - No Sleep and Cute Kitties
So, I am in bed, not sleeping.
This is not unusual for me lately. (Lately being the last 7 months or so)
There is an adorable kitty right next to my knee and she is sleeping. I am in a bit of disbelief that she gets to come with me when I move. She is a riot. Needy and sometimes clingy, but don't pick her up. Nope, not gonna happen. Wouldn't be prudent. (Couldn't resist, what can I say, I'm not sleeping)
Back to the uber adorable kitty because I am digressing...
She came to me via my roommate. My roommate got her because I forwarded an email to her about a kitty needing a home. The kitty came home and then the kitty decided that since otherkitty had a mommy already that I needed a kitty of my very own. She attached herself to me and hasn't looked back. She and otherkitty get along really well. I am worried that she will miss otherkitty too much when we leave because the place I think we are going to will only have one kitty so I can't get anotherkitty to join her. I will try to explain to her that she will be QueenKitty there and that this is an advantage since she will get all my attention.
I hope she agrees.
I just reread this post and wow, I really need to get some sleep. Geez.
This is not unusual for me lately. (Lately being the last 7 months or so)
There is an adorable kitty right next to my knee and she is sleeping. I am in a bit of disbelief that she gets to come with me when I move. She is a riot. Needy and sometimes clingy, but don't pick her up. Nope, not gonna happen. Wouldn't be prudent. (Couldn't resist, what can I say, I'm not sleeping)
Back to the uber adorable kitty because I am digressing...
She came to me via my roommate. My roommate got her because I forwarded an email to her about a kitty needing a home. The kitty came home and then the kitty decided that since otherkitty had a mommy already that I needed a kitty of my very own. She attached herself to me and hasn't looked back. She and otherkitty get along really well. I am worried that she will miss otherkitty too much when we leave because the place I think we are going to will only have one kitty so I can't get anotherkitty to join her. I will try to explain to her that she will be QueenKitty there and that this is an advantage since she will get all my attention.
I hope she agrees.
I just reread this post and wow, I really need to get some sleep. Geez.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Lenten Blogging Part 4 - Ending a partnership, starting a friendship
Here I am, processing 6 years with someone. The end of part of a relationship is interesting for me. I do not usually stay friends with exes. This is new. I cannot imagine my life without her in it. The commitment I made in November still stands, it is just different now. I cannot be her partner anymore because I came to realize that we are much better friends than partners.
I am finding that many things are coming up for me as I process this. The fact that I have not had true emotional intimacy for a long time is a sad realization. That thought came to me earlier this week. It broke my heart a little bit to realize that I had kept going in a relationship where I was showing less and less of myself. I would like to say that there seemed to be less and less interest on her part in seeing the whole of me, but, I want to be honest in this and so I will wait for a little while in making that judgement and have a real look at what happened there. Was I intentionally pulling away? Was I making such huge changes that it would have been a serious effort to keep up with them? Was it that my life was coming apart in such a way that I couldn’t spare the energy to try and explain the changes in me? Was it that I was growing at a different rate than she was?
Is it a little bit of all of the above?
I just read an article on emotional affairs and I wonder, did I have one? Were those evenings spent in on the tailgate of my truck talking till all hours of the night, an emotional affair? I would like to say no, but, I realize now that perhaps that isn’t true. I was getting more emotional support from those talks than from my partner. I would like to be all bitter and shit and say that she wasn’t there for me but, I need to look and see if I gave her the chance to be. Did I assume that she would not be able to handle what I was going through and just didn’t even bother with trying? Did I try and not get what I needed? Should I have tried more? Better question would be could I have tried more. (That answer is a no. I realize that right away when I think back to how hard those 7 months were.)
December really broke my heart. I was talking with someone about that today and was finally able to articulate that I wasn’t needing a whole big thing from her about it. A simple “I am sorry that I couldn’t be there for you when you needed it” would have gone sooooo far in helping heal the hurt. (for those that don’t know, I went through 7 months of sheer hell. Then near the end of those 7 months a friend gave me a trip to St. Louis to see my partner. I was in tears on the plane because I was finally going to get the chance to rest. I had made a commitment to my friends that I would rest and recoup and have a lot of fun while out there. I told my partner what I needed. What happened while I was out there was I got no rest and I ended up having to constantly fix things that were breaking in her life. I even had to move her from her unhealthy roommate situation to her own place, by myself, with a sprained back.)
To come to the realizations that I was not getting any of the support that I needed from her for a really long time (Honestly, the last time I got the support I needed was early last year sometime.) is hard to look at. It is hard to see that I was with someone that I usually gave to and did not get much in return (emotional support…. Shit. I want to leave it there but I didn’t get much financial support either. I would like to say it wasn’t her fault but I am having a moment where I can’t say that.) I feel like I have been with someone for the last year who did not know me. Who did not want to know me. Who was afraid of my anger sometimes, (not healthy to be afraid when someone gets angry not even at you) Who seemed to be afraid of being strong. She seemed like she was afraid of being healthy.
I look at these things and I begin to wonder what qualities I am looking for in friends and in a lover. I want someone strong. I want someone who says “why not” instead of “I can’t” when presented with a challenge.” I can’t” should be reserved for serious “ I have tried, more than once. I have a limitation that prevents me from doing [whatever] but I am going to find a way to work around this as much as I can”.
I guess I have a lot to write about concerning this. Sorry I haven’t been doing well with the Lenten blogging. There has been much writing but not much I could actually post.
I am finding that many things are coming up for me as I process this. The fact that I have not had true emotional intimacy for a long time is a sad realization. That thought came to me earlier this week. It broke my heart a little bit to realize that I had kept going in a relationship where I was showing less and less of myself. I would like to say that there seemed to be less and less interest on her part in seeing the whole of me, but, I want to be honest in this and so I will wait for a little while in making that judgement and have a real look at what happened there. Was I intentionally pulling away? Was I making such huge changes that it would have been a serious effort to keep up with them? Was it that my life was coming apart in such a way that I couldn’t spare the energy to try and explain the changes in me? Was it that I was growing at a different rate than she was?
Is it a little bit of all of the above?
I just read an article on emotional affairs and I wonder, did I have one? Were those evenings spent in on the tailgate of my truck talking till all hours of the night, an emotional affair? I would like to say no, but, I realize now that perhaps that isn’t true. I was getting more emotional support from those talks than from my partner. I would like to be all bitter and shit and say that she wasn’t there for me but, I need to look and see if I gave her the chance to be. Did I assume that she would not be able to handle what I was going through and just didn’t even bother with trying? Did I try and not get what I needed? Should I have tried more? Better question would be could I have tried more. (That answer is a no. I realize that right away when I think back to how hard those 7 months were.)
December really broke my heart. I was talking with someone about that today and was finally able to articulate that I wasn’t needing a whole big thing from her about it. A simple “I am sorry that I couldn’t be there for you when you needed it” would have gone sooooo far in helping heal the hurt. (for those that don’t know, I went through 7 months of sheer hell. Then near the end of those 7 months a friend gave me a trip to St. Louis to see my partner. I was in tears on the plane because I was finally going to get the chance to rest. I had made a commitment to my friends that I would rest and recoup and have a lot of fun while out there. I told my partner what I needed. What happened while I was out there was I got no rest and I ended up having to constantly fix things that were breaking in her life. I even had to move her from her unhealthy roommate situation to her own place, by myself, with a sprained back.)
To come to the realizations that I was not getting any of the support that I needed from her for a really long time (Honestly, the last time I got the support I needed was early last year sometime.) is hard to look at. It is hard to see that I was with someone that I usually gave to and did not get much in return (emotional support…. Shit. I want to leave it there but I didn’t get much financial support either. I would like to say it wasn’t her fault but I am having a moment where I can’t say that.) I feel like I have been with someone for the last year who did not know me. Who did not want to know me. Who was afraid of my anger sometimes, (not healthy to be afraid when someone gets angry not even at you) Who seemed to be afraid of being strong. She seemed like she was afraid of being healthy.
I look at these things and I begin to wonder what qualities I am looking for in friends and in a lover. I want someone strong. I want someone who says “why not” instead of “I can’t” when presented with a challenge.” I can’t” should be reserved for serious “ I have tried, more than once. I have a limitation that prevents me from doing [whatever] but I am going to find a way to work around this as much as I can”.
I guess I have a lot to write about concerning this. Sorry I haven’t been doing well with the Lenten blogging. There has been much writing but not much I could actually post.
Sunday, March 01, 2009
Lenten Blogging Part 3 - My slice of heaven
I realized this morning, when I was getting ready to paint some more in my roommate’s house, that I don’t think I can ever live in “suburbia”. This realization came about when I was thinking about what to do today. Here I was, with a whole day in front of me, and I could do anything. I could watch movies all day, I could read the few books I got recently that I have been wanting to read, I could rest and fully recoup from the migraine on Thursday night, or…
It was then I realized that I really can’t sit still.
It isn’t an ADHD thing (I don’t think…) I think it is a personality thing. I just like to keep moving and keep getting things done. I like to reach the end of the day with something accomplished. I like to look at something and say “That looks good” or “it is awesome that this is finished”.
I especially like to do outside things. This is most likely why I like to chop wood so much. The gathering of the wood is awesome too. (Now that I have a lighter ax it will be easier). It is too early to do yard work or plant things just yet. Walking for a walk’s sake gets old after a while. So, chopping wood that I find out in the forest that I live in is a nice compromise.
I find that the quiet up here helps my mind as well. Too much psychic noise when there are too many people around. I have gotten very sensitive to this since I have been on the energy worker path these last two years. Communing with the trees is one of the things that helps me to recharge, rejuvenate, and reflect. Helps to clear my mind and my spirit.
If I were living in suburbia I would go nuts and be out in the woods all the time.
It’s not that there is anything wrong with suburbia is it just that I wouldn’t fit there very well. Too many houses, not enough room, too many people, not enough chores.
This is the perfect place for me because I there is always something to do here. Between chopping wood, painting, going for a hike, more chopping wood, sharpening the ax, playing on the computer, building a new computer, sorting all of my stuff, chopping more wood (cause it had been cold and I kept the wood burning stove in use a lot) and going for another walk to get more wood, painting the trim in the kitchen, I never have to sit still. :-)
My time here is limited though. I have plans to move to the Midwest in 2010. This gives me a year and a half to enjoy my slice of heaven. That thought does give this a tinge of sadness but it also helps me to savor each day I have up here. Even the days when I can’t get off the mountain because they haven’t plowed the road yet and the “S curve of death” is just waiting to take my new PT Cruiser are a little better because I know my time here is short.
Anyhoo…
Time to go and watch a movie. More tomorrow.
It was then I realized that I really can’t sit still.
It isn’t an ADHD thing (I don’t think…) I think it is a personality thing. I just like to keep moving and keep getting things done. I like to reach the end of the day with something accomplished. I like to look at something and say “That looks good” or “it is awesome that this is finished”.
I especially like to do outside things. This is most likely why I like to chop wood so much. The gathering of the wood is awesome too. (Now that I have a lighter ax it will be easier). It is too early to do yard work or plant things just yet. Walking for a walk’s sake gets old after a while. So, chopping wood that I find out in the forest that I live in is a nice compromise.
I find that the quiet up here helps my mind as well. Too much psychic noise when there are too many people around. I have gotten very sensitive to this since I have been on the energy worker path these last two years. Communing with the trees is one of the things that helps me to recharge, rejuvenate, and reflect. Helps to clear my mind and my spirit.
If I were living in suburbia I would go nuts and be out in the woods all the time.
It’s not that there is anything wrong with suburbia is it just that I wouldn’t fit there very well. Too many houses, not enough room, too many people, not enough chores.
This is the perfect place for me because I there is always something to do here. Between chopping wood, painting, going for a hike, more chopping wood, sharpening the ax, playing on the computer, building a new computer, sorting all of my stuff, chopping more wood (cause it had been cold and I kept the wood burning stove in use a lot) and going for another walk to get more wood, painting the trim in the kitchen, I never have to sit still. :-)
My time here is limited though. I have plans to move to the Midwest in 2010. This gives me a year and a half to enjoy my slice of heaven. That thought does give this a tinge of sadness but it also helps me to savor each day I have up here. Even the days when I can’t get off the mountain because they haven’t plowed the road yet and the “S curve of death” is just waiting to take my new PT Cruiser are a little better because I know my time here is short.
Anyhoo…
Time to go and watch a movie. More tomorrow.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Lenten Blogging Part 2
I apologize to everyone (myself included) that I could not post last night. Major migraine kicked in and took me out. I am better now that the meds to stop the migraine have worn off. (Good stuff but kicks my ass).
I have been wondering what to write about today. I think of things while I am driving into work in the morning but by the time I get home those ideas are gone.
Bummer really, cause a lot of those ideas are a riot.
Hmmmm. I could write about how it is a little nutty that my favorite church service is Ash Wednesday. (Do I get off on guilt or do I just like the fact that the sermon is great, the service is smaller and at night?)
I could write a bit about the Shamanic path I am on. (I think that is later)
I could write about how I think Spirit wants me to write to my family during this time. (uuuuuug. Do I haaave toooooo?????)
Or I could write about how I am trying to sell my truck (BayB is no longer running so she needs to find a new home with someone who can get her running again).
I have a new job, a new car, and beginning a new life. Where do I begin on writing about that? (yeah, yeah, the whole “you are right now” thing.)
All of these are good subjects and I think I will write about them this weekend.
For now. It is time for bed since I am nodding off as I type. Pictures of the view from my new digs tomorrow.
G’Night.
I have been wondering what to write about today. I think of things while I am driving into work in the morning but by the time I get home those ideas are gone.
Bummer really, cause a lot of those ideas are a riot.
Hmmmm. I could write about how it is a little nutty that my favorite church service is Ash Wednesday. (Do I get off on guilt or do I just like the fact that the sermon is great, the service is smaller and at night?)
I could write a bit about the Shamanic path I am on. (I think that is later)
I could write about how I think Spirit wants me to write to my family during this time. (uuuuuug. Do I haaave toooooo?????)
Or I could write about how I am trying to sell my truck (BayB is no longer running so she needs to find a new home with someone who can get her running again).
I have a new job, a new car, and beginning a new life. Where do I begin on writing about that? (yeah, yeah, the whole “you are right now” thing.)
All of these are good subjects and I think I will write about them this weekend.
For now. It is time for bed since I am nodding off as I type. Pictures of the view from my new digs tomorrow.
G’Night.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Lenten Blogging
So, I was driving into work this morning and trying to decide what to do for lent this year. I believe that lent is a time of change, a time of transformation, a time of letting go of old. Sometimes it is even a time of welcoming the new. I don’t believe in giving something up just for giving something up. I believe that sacrifice should bring us closer to Spirit.
My first Lent I was living in downtown Washington DC. I did not own a car at that time and found that I had begun to take way too many taxi’s around town. Basically I was spending wayyy to much money on this type of thing when I had full access to the DC Metro as well as the bus service. There really was no excuse for the amount of taxi rides I was taking (mostly to and from work, normally a 30 minute metro ride). So, for my first lent I decided to give up taking a taxi unless there was no other way to get to where I was going or it was a serious time sensitive emergency. If you think that was easy let me tell you it was hard! I would leave work, exhausted, just wanting a quick 6 minute ride home. That was not to be. I would take the 30 minute metro ride home instead.
That Lenten season helped me break a bad habit that I had fallen into. (The irony was that it wasn’t till near the end of that season that I learned that you could “indulge” on Sunday. LOL) I got back into taking the metro and back into walking.
Over the years I have made it through other Lenten seasons but none have been as powerful as that first one. In part, I think, because I was just sacrificing for the sake of sacrifice. Not really using it as a way to grow and learn. Other years I have skipped it completely because I was either too busy to really do lent or that it snuck up on me, or that I was in the midst of serious flux, or any number of other reasons. This year, although lent did sneak up on me, I did at least see it coming last week and could prepare a bit.
This brings me back to this morning. Driving into work and thinking about what I wanted to do for this Lenten season.
I thought about giving something up. That didn’t feel right.
I thought about starting a few things. That was closer but not quite it.
Then it hit me.
Lenten Blogging!
I have been feeling quite bad that my life went nuts about 7 months ago and then I stopped blogging on a regular basis. Just when I was starting to get a bit of a following too. (smacks self in head again!!!) I have been feeling incredibly guilty that I haven’t blogged at all for a looooong time much less on a regular basis. (Truth to tell, I haven’t had time to follow my favorite blogs either so…) I have a good excuse. I changed jobs, lost my truck, got a new(er) vehicle and moved to a different state. I have been busy, really. No, really!
But I digress… (wink ((NOT THE SARAH PALIN KIND!!!)) to the original fans out there!)
BUT, I digress again…
Driving in this morning I decided that I would blog at least a little bit each and every day till Lent is over. I may skip a Sunday here and there but perhaps I really will go “hard core” and not take that day of indulgence. We shall see.
Keep your fingers crossed and your seatbelts fastened because the frog is back and is going to be blogging her *%& off! (Ok, I know but I work at a place now where I can’t swear in the hallways anymore so sometimes it takes a bit to switch gears.)
Tune in tomorrow for the next installment of Lenten Blogging!
My first Lent I was living in downtown Washington DC. I did not own a car at that time and found that I had begun to take way too many taxi’s around town. Basically I was spending wayyy to much money on this type of thing when I had full access to the DC Metro as well as the bus service. There really was no excuse for the amount of taxi rides I was taking (mostly to and from work, normally a 30 minute metro ride). So, for my first lent I decided to give up taking a taxi unless there was no other way to get to where I was going or it was a serious time sensitive emergency. If you think that was easy let me tell you it was hard! I would leave work, exhausted, just wanting a quick 6 minute ride home. That was not to be. I would take the 30 minute metro ride home instead.
That Lenten season helped me break a bad habit that I had fallen into. (The irony was that it wasn’t till near the end of that season that I learned that you could “indulge” on Sunday. LOL) I got back into taking the metro and back into walking.
Over the years I have made it through other Lenten seasons but none have been as powerful as that first one. In part, I think, because I was just sacrificing for the sake of sacrifice. Not really using it as a way to grow and learn. Other years I have skipped it completely because I was either too busy to really do lent or that it snuck up on me, or that I was in the midst of serious flux, or any number of other reasons. This year, although lent did sneak up on me, I did at least see it coming last week and could prepare a bit.
This brings me back to this morning. Driving into work and thinking about what I wanted to do for this Lenten season.
I thought about giving something up. That didn’t feel right.
I thought about starting a few things. That was closer but not quite it.
Then it hit me.
Lenten Blogging!
I have been feeling quite bad that my life went nuts about 7 months ago and then I stopped blogging on a regular basis. Just when I was starting to get a bit of a following too. (smacks self in head again!!!) I have been feeling incredibly guilty that I haven’t blogged at all for a looooong time much less on a regular basis. (Truth to tell, I haven’t had time to follow my favorite blogs either so…) I have a good excuse. I changed jobs, lost my truck, got a new(er) vehicle and moved to a different state. I have been busy, really. No, really!
But I digress… (wink ((NOT THE SARAH PALIN KIND!!!)) to the original fans out there!)
BUT, I digress again…
Driving in this morning I decided that I would blog at least a little bit each and every day till Lent is over. I may skip a Sunday here and there but perhaps I really will go “hard core” and not take that day of indulgence. We shall see.
Keep your fingers crossed and your seatbelts fastened because the frog is back and is going to be blogging her *%& off! (Ok, I know but I work at a place now where I can’t swear in the hallways anymore so sometimes it takes a bit to switch gears.)
Tune in tomorrow for the next installment of Lenten Blogging!
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Communication
Definition of Communication: the process of to impart information from a sender to a receiver with the use of a medium.
The medium most often used are words, either typed in email or spoken. Words can relay information from one to another. Words can also be used to uplift or to beat down. To create or to destroy. Not that I think the world is black and white, far from it.
My point is that this week I have experienced a wide range of words with all their varied intentions. Most of the words I have encountered this week have been mundane. A few have been uplifting and a few have been destructive.
I spent some time with a friend the other night exchanging words in the form of stories about the past weekend, plans for the coming weekend, and funny stuff too. We are both having a tough week this week. Her family of origin and my mom of choice both need a good thwacking. (A huge oversimplification but hey, it is my blog so I get to choose what I put here.) The other night this friend and I discussed how the hurts from our respective families were affecting us. No conclusion reached but a bit of healing for my heart, hopefully for hers too.
I haven’t made the final decision about my MOC (mom of choice for the uninitiated). I don’t know if I am really walking away forever (emotionally if not physically) or if it is just for a little while to heal. I guess it comes down to is she really healthy for me (now or in the future…). However, I feel shitty about taking a cold analytical view at a human relationship, especially one so close for so long.
I should probably give a clue to what happened to get me to this point with MOC. Sunday evening, just after spending 5 hours at a clients house finally getting a laptop in good running order, I went by MOC house to drop off something I had borrowed and to hear about how church went. (yes I go to church…*rolling eyes*) I get there and the first words spoken to me were biting and snarky. Oooook, I think to myself that it is time to bail as fast as possible cause I know what is coming. Long story short I didn’t get the chance to bail politely and ended up getting really hurt later in the evening by just one sentence she spoke. (I think the rest of the working through MOC shit will be in a different post.)
Oi!
Missed words can have an impact too. Another friend missed a one sentence statement that ended up causing a whole shitstorm of stuff. All worked out now but the feelings of regret are there and the lines of communication are still a bit strained. No way for me to comfort this person either… Damn.
Here I am today. Totally burned out from months of dealing with insane/unhealthy birthparents, hearing nothing from my daughter (miss you!!!), still doing the long distance marriage thing, studying Shamanism (more on that in another post cause its time to “come out”) dealing with the emotional turmoil from that, working for people who every day do something to make my work life impossible, getting ready to move-but no not yet-but the move is back on-but oh it is on hold again rollercoaster, while missing my best friend who had to walk in the wilderness for a little while.
I am trying to keep my spirits up but yesterday it was a bit to hard to manage and I crashed out. Today is better. Tomorrow we will see…
I am hopefully going to be spending the weekend camping. Rest, recoup, sort out, do the mental fall cleaning and hopefully make some decisions. Keep your fingers crossed that I can recharge my batteries this weekend.
The medium most often used are words, either typed in email or spoken. Words can relay information from one to another. Words can also be used to uplift or to beat down. To create or to destroy. Not that I think the world is black and white, far from it.
My point is that this week I have experienced a wide range of words with all their varied intentions. Most of the words I have encountered this week have been mundane. A few have been uplifting and a few have been destructive.
I spent some time with a friend the other night exchanging words in the form of stories about the past weekend, plans for the coming weekend, and funny stuff too. We are both having a tough week this week. Her family of origin and my mom of choice both need a good thwacking. (A huge oversimplification but hey, it is my blog so I get to choose what I put here.) The other night this friend and I discussed how the hurts from our respective families were affecting us. No conclusion reached but a bit of healing for my heart, hopefully for hers too.
I haven’t made the final decision about my MOC (mom of choice for the uninitiated). I don’t know if I am really walking away forever (emotionally if not physically) or if it is just for a little while to heal. I guess it comes down to is she really healthy for me (now or in the future…). However, I feel shitty about taking a cold analytical view at a human relationship, especially one so close for so long.
I should probably give a clue to what happened to get me to this point with MOC. Sunday evening, just after spending 5 hours at a clients house finally getting a laptop in good running order, I went by MOC house to drop off something I had borrowed and to hear about how church went. (yes I go to church…*rolling eyes*) I get there and the first words spoken to me were biting and snarky. Oooook, I think to myself that it is time to bail as fast as possible cause I know what is coming. Long story short I didn’t get the chance to bail politely and ended up getting really hurt later in the evening by just one sentence she spoke. (I think the rest of the working through MOC shit will be in a different post.)
Oi!
Missed words can have an impact too. Another friend missed a one sentence statement that ended up causing a whole shitstorm of stuff. All worked out now but the feelings of regret are there and the lines of communication are still a bit strained. No way for me to comfort this person either… Damn.
Here I am today. Totally burned out from months of dealing with insane/unhealthy birthparents, hearing nothing from my daughter (miss you!!!), still doing the long distance marriage thing, studying Shamanism (more on that in another post cause its time to “come out”) dealing with the emotional turmoil from that, working for people who every day do something to make my work life impossible, getting ready to move-but no not yet-but the move is back on-but oh it is on hold again rollercoaster, while missing my best friend who had to walk in the wilderness for a little while.
I am trying to keep my spirits up but yesterday it was a bit to hard to manage and I crashed out. Today is better. Tomorrow we will see…
I am hopefully going to be spending the weekend camping. Rest, recoup, sort out, do the mental fall cleaning and hopefully make some decisions. Keep your fingers crossed that I can recharge my batteries this weekend.
Sunday, November 09, 2008
"An open apology to boomers everywhere"
I wish I had writen this. It is perfect in capturing my generation's view of the world compaired to Baby Boomers. One of my favorite parts in this piece is "There were smiling families, hugging and learning important lessons on every channel, while at home, our parents threw dishes at each other's heads. We went to church and learned about God's divine plan every Sunday, but all it took was one Dr. Seuss cartoon about an entire world that existed on a speck of dust, and our belief in God was deconstructed in an instant. Our childhoods were one long existential crisis. We ate Happy Meals while watching the space shuttle blow into tiny bits."
Perhaps it is one of my favorites because it does such a good job of summing up my growing up. (Yeah, I watched the shuttle Challanger blow up, not on TV, but from the vantage point of standing in the cold air just outside my school in Orlando Florida.)
Below is the entire article. Please click here for the original posting.
"An open apology to boomers everywhere
Your earnest, self-important prattle has gotten on Gen X nerves for decades. But now we finally get it.
By Heather Havrilesky
Nov. 7, 2008 Dear boomers: We're sorry for rolling our eyes at you all these years. We apologize for scoffing at your earnestness, your lack of self-deprecation, your tendency to take yourselves a little too seriously. We can go ahead and admit now that we grew tired of hearing about the '60s and the peace movement, as if you had to live through those times to understand anything at all. It's true, we didn't completely partake of your idealism and your notions about community. Frankly, it looked gray and saggy in your hands, these many decades later. Chanting "What do we want? Peace! When do we want it? Now!" at that rally against the Iraq war made us feel self-conscious in spite of ourselves. We felt like clichés. We wondered why someone couldn't come up with a newer, catchier, pro-peace slogan over the course of 40 years of protests. We knew we shouldn't care that some of you were wearing socks with sandals and smelled like you'd been on the bus with Wavy Gravy for the last three decades, but we cared anyway. We couldn't help it. It's just who we are.
And look, we really did stand for something, underneath all the eye-rolling. We're feminists, we care about the environment, we want to improve race relations, we volunteer. We're just low-key about it. We never wanted to do it the way you did it: So unselfconscious, so optimistic, guilelessly throwing yourself behind Team Liberal. We didn't get that. We aren't joiners. We don't like carrying signs. We tend to disagree, if only on principle.
But when we watched Barack Obama's victory speech on Tuesday night, we looked into the eyes of a real leader, and decades of cynicism about politics and grass-roots movements and community melted away in a single moment. We heard the voice of a man who can inspire with his words, who's unashamed of his own intelligence, who's willing to treat the citizens of this country like smart, capable people, worthy of respect. For the first time in some of our lifetimes, we believed.
Suddenly it makes sense, what you've been trying to tell us about John F. Kennedy and Martin Luther King Jr. Sure, we knew all about their roles in history, we'd learned about them in a million classes, through countless books and documentaries. Eventually, though, the endless memorials and tributes and TV specials and Oliver Stone films grew a little tedious. We didn't quite understand why you've never let those two go, why you'd speak so relentlessly about a better time.
But how could we have known? We were raised under Ronald Reagan, smiling emptily under a shellacked cap of shiny brown hair like a demon clown, warning us (With a knowing nod! With a wink!) about those evil Russians stockpiling nuclear arms thousands of miles away. We were raised by "The Love Boat" and "Eight Is Enough" and "Charlie's Angels," a steady flow of saccharine tales with clunky morals. There were smiling families, hugging and learning important lessons on every channel, while at home, our parents threw dishes at each other's heads. We went to church and learned about God's divine plan every Sunday, but all it took was one Dr. Seuss cartoon about an entire world that existed on a speck of dust, and our belief in God was deconstructed in an instant. Our childhoods were one long existential crisis. We ate Happy Meals while watching the space shuttle blow into tiny bits.
You and all your boomer friends read "I'm OK, You're OK," and tried desperately to avoid the mistakes of your parents, those stoic alcoholics of the so-called Greatest Generation. But you couldn't quite put your ideals into motion. As our parents, you told us to tell you anything, to be honest, to come to you with our problems, but when we did, you were uncomfortable and dismissive. You didn't really want to know how we felt. When we were emotional, you flashed back to that time your drunk mother threw the jack-o'-lantern into the street. You loved us, but you were passive-aggressive and avoidant in spite of your best intentions.
You did your best. But we rose out of that murky soup of love and confusion, of stated beliefs without the actions to back them up, and we grew cynical. We doubted even the most heartfelt, genuine statements. We didn't want to be blind to our own faults, like you were, so we paraded our faults around, exalted in our shortcomings. The worst thing, to us, was to not see ourselves clearly. The worst thing was to not be in on the joke.
So we cast a jaded eye on ourselves and each other. We drank too much and listened to obscure indie rock bands. We dressed badly and communicated in four-letter words and read books like "Infinite Jest" and "The Corrections," modern-day versions of your precious J.D. Salinger in which everyone is a fake and the high capitalist world is bought and sold and even the purest form of art is a commodity, not to be taken seriously. No one can be trusted, nothing is pure -- these are the truths we held to be self-evident.
No, we weren't always ready to get involved and make the world a better place, because the air we breathed was toxic with absurdity and excess. Consider our head-spinning trajectory: Mister Rogers, Son of Sam, the Iran hostage crisis, Catholic school, the Hite Report, "The Day After," Edwin Meese, rampant divorce, "Fantasy Island," "Endless Love," Jeffrey Dahmer, the Happy Meal, the Lockerbie air disaster, Toyotathons, John Updike, "Who Wants to Marry a Millionaire?" Do you see how far we had to come? How we were primed to hate our own country, and ourselves along with it?
And then most of us became mature, rational adults at the exact moment that a reckless frat boy boomer became our president. Just when we were starting to understand how to be a part of the larger world outside, Al Gore had the election stolen right out of his hands in Florida, and then the twin towers collapsed before our eyes. At first we felt moved to act for the greater good in the wake of that tragedy. But then the whole country seemed to implode in front of us, from our invasion of two sovereign nations to the rise of celebrity culture to tanning beds to McMansions to Guantánamo Bay to Hummers and a big, faceless herd of humans in low-rider ass pants, chattering about whether or not to get Botox. It was so sad and pathetic that it was funny to us, even if it was only sad and pathetic to you. We urged you to get a sense of humor; we'd lived this way for years, after all. Things were much worse now, worse than ever -- but we'd always expected that they would be, eventually. That's one of the few rewards of being deeply pessimistic, of being trained to lower our expectations, of living in a constant state of distrust and learned helplessness.
But on Tuesday night, that changed. We understood, for the first time in our lives, what it means to be a part of something big, without reservation. We saw the joy in that. We knew that history had been made, and we were happy to have made calls and sent money and knocked on doors for this man. We felt like we were really, truly participants in history, that we had a connection to those people in the crowd at Grant Park and those kids crying and celebrating in Compton on the local news. We were all Americans, together, old and young, black and white and Latino and Asian, and it didn't feel hokey or overly earnest to admit it for once.
So we apologize to you, for making fun of your earnestness. We never want to go back to our old way of thinking. Sure, we'll still be our irreverent, self-deprecating, exasperating selves, but we also want to believe. We want to follow this man, and trust him, and give him our full support. The world may not be transformed overnight, the economy may still struggle, Obama will surely make his share of mistakes. But we want to stand behind him, stand behind this country, and show our fellow Americans the same respect that this new leader of ours has shown all of us, in his words, in his manner and in his promises.
On Tuesday night, we could all sense, with open hearts, that this man meant what he said. There's no shame in seeing that clearly, together. There's no shame in trusting someone's words, and allowing those words to move and inspire you. There's no shame in throwing ourselves into this new future with full hearts, with tears in our eyes, unselfconsciously.
And in 15 years, our kids probably won't understand it when we talk about the night that Obama was elected president, either. They'll sigh deeply and roll their eyes and say they've heard this story a million times before, so please shut up about it already. They'll purse their lips and think about how our hair looks stupid and we smell like old cheese.
But maybe, just maybe, we can change the world enough that they'll get it. Maybe if we dare to hope, eventually hope won't feel quite so daring."
Perhaps it is one of my favorites because it does such a good job of summing up my growing up. (Yeah, I watched the shuttle Challanger blow up, not on TV, but from the vantage point of standing in the cold air just outside my school in Orlando Florida.)
Below is the entire article. Please click here for the original posting.
"An open apology to boomers everywhere
Your earnest, self-important prattle has gotten on Gen X nerves for decades. But now we finally get it.
By Heather Havrilesky
Nov. 7, 2008 Dear boomers: We're sorry for rolling our eyes at you all these years. We apologize for scoffing at your earnestness, your lack of self-deprecation, your tendency to take yourselves a little too seriously. We can go ahead and admit now that we grew tired of hearing about the '60s and the peace movement, as if you had to live through those times to understand anything at all. It's true, we didn't completely partake of your idealism and your notions about community. Frankly, it looked gray and saggy in your hands, these many decades later. Chanting "What do we want? Peace! When do we want it? Now!" at that rally against the Iraq war made us feel self-conscious in spite of ourselves. We felt like clichés. We wondered why someone couldn't come up with a newer, catchier, pro-peace slogan over the course of 40 years of protests. We knew we shouldn't care that some of you were wearing socks with sandals and smelled like you'd been on the bus with Wavy Gravy for the last three decades, but we cared anyway. We couldn't help it. It's just who we are.
And look, we really did stand for something, underneath all the eye-rolling. We're feminists, we care about the environment, we want to improve race relations, we volunteer. We're just low-key about it. We never wanted to do it the way you did it: So unselfconscious, so optimistic, guilelessly throwing yourself behind Team Liberal. We didn't get that. We aren't joiners. We don't like carrying signs. We tend to disagree, if only on principle.
But when we watched Barack Obama's victory speech on Tuesday night, we looked into the eyes of a real leader, and decades of cynicism about politics and grass-roots movements and community melted away in a single moment. We heard the voice of a man who can inspire with his words, who's unashamed of his own intelligence, who's willing to treat the citizens of this country like smart, capable people, worthy of respect. For the first time in some of our lifetimes, we believed.
Suddenly it makes sense, what you've been trying to tell us about John F. Kennedy and Martin Luther King Jr. Sure, we knew all about their roles in history, we'd learned about them in a million classes, through countless books and documentaries. Eventually, though, the endless memorials and tributes and TV specials and Oliver Stone films grew a little tedious. We didn't quite understand why you've never let those two go, why you'd speak so relentlessly about a better time.
But how could we have known? We were raised under Ronald Reagan, smiling emptily under a shellacked cap of shiny brown hair like a demon clown, warning us (With a knowing nod! With a wink!) about those evil Russians stockpiling nuclear arms thousands of miles away. We were raised by "The Love Boat" and "Eight Is Enough" and "Charlie's Angels," a steady flow of saccharine tales with clunky morals. There were smiling families, hugging and learning important lessons on every channel, while at home, our parents threw dishes at each other's heads. We went to church and learned about God's divine plan every Sunday, but all it took was one Dr. Seuss cartoon about an entire world that existed on a speck of dust, and our belief in God was deconstructed in an instant. Our childhoods were one long existential crisis. We ate Happy Meals while watching the space shuttle blow into tiny bits.
You and all your boomer friends read "I'm OK, You're OK," and tried desperately to avoid the mistakes of your parents, those stoic alcoholics of the so-called Greatest Generation. But you couldn't quite put your ideals into motion. As our parents, you told us to tell you anything, to be honest, to come to you with our problems, but when we did, you were uncomfortable and dismissive. You didn't really want to know how we felt. When we were emotional, you flashed back to that time your drunk mother threw the jack-o'-lantern into the street. You loved us, but you were passive-aggressive and avoidant in spite of your best intentions.
You did your best. But we rose out of that murky soup of love and confusion, of stated beliefs without the actions to back them up, and we grew cynical. We doubted even the most heartfelt, genuine statements. We didn't want to be blind to our own faults, like you were, so we paraded our faults around, exalted in our shortcomings. The worst thing, to us, was to not see ourselves clearly. The worst thing was to not be in on the joke.
So we cast a jaded eye on ourselves and each other. We drank too much and listened to obscure indie rock bands. We dressed badly and communicated in four-letter words and read books like "Infinite Jest" and "The Corrections," modern-day versions of your precious J.D. Salinger in which everyone is a fake and the high capitalist world is bought and sold and even the purest form of art is a commodity, not to be taken seriously. No one can be trusted, nothing is pure -- these are the truths we held to be self-evident.
No, we weren't always ready to get involved and make the world a better place, because the air we breathed was toxic with absurdity and excess. Consider our head-spinning trajectory: Mister Rogers, Son of Sam, the Iran hostage crisis, Catholic school, the Hite Report, "The Day After," Edwin Meese, rampant divorce, "Fantasy Island," "Endless Love," Jeffrey Dahmer, the Happy Meal, the Lockerbie air disaster, Toyotathons, John Updike, "Who Wants to Marry a Millionaire?" Do you see how far we had to come? How we were primed to hate our own country, and ourselves along with it?
And then most of us became mature, rational adults at the exact moment that a reckless frat boy boomer became our president. Just when we were starting to understand how to be a part of the larger world outside, Al Gore had the election stolen right out of his hands in Florida, and then the twin towers collapsed before our eyes. At first we felt moved to act for the greater good in the wake of that tragedy. But then the whole country seemed to implode in front of us, from our invasion of two sovereign nations to the rise of celebrity culture to tanning beds to McMansions to Guantánamo Bay to Hummers and a big, faceless herd of humans in low-rider ass pants, chattering about whether or not to get Botox. It was so sad and pathetic that it was funny to us, even if it was only sad and pathetic to you. We urged you to get a sense of humor; we'd lived this way for years, after all. Things were much worse now, worse than ever -- but we'd always expected that they would be, eventually. That's one of the few rewards of being deeply pessimistic, of being trained to lower our expectations, of living in a constant state of distrust and learned helplessness.
But on Tuesday night, that changed. We understood, for the first time in our lives, what it means to be a part of something big, without reservation. We saw the joy in that. We knew that history had been made, and we were happy to have made calls and sent money and knocked on doors for this man. We felt like we were really, truly participants in history, that we had a connection to those people in the crowd at Grant Park and those kids crying and celebrating in Compton on the local news. We were all Americans, together, old and young, black and white and Latino and Asian, and it didn't feel hokey or overly earnest to admit it for once.
So we apologize to you, for making fun of your earnestness. We never want to go back to our old way of thinking. Sure, we'll still be our irreverent, self-deprecating, exasperating selves, but we also want to believe. We want to follow this man, and trust him, and give him our full support. The world may not be transformed overnight, the economy may still struggle, Obama will surely make his share of mistakes. But we want to stand behind him, stand behind this country, and show our fellow Americans the same respect that this new leader of ours has shown all of us, in his words, in his manner and in his promises.
On Tuesday night, we could all sense, with open hearts, that this man meant what he said. There's no shame in seeing that clearly, together. There's no shame in trusting someone's words, and allowing those words to move and inspire you. There's no shame in throwing ourselves into this new future with full hearts, with tears in our eyes, unselfconsciously.
And in 15 years, our kids probably won't understand it when we talk about the night that Obama was elected president, either. They'll sigh deeply and roll their eyes and say they've heard this story a million times before, so please shut up about it already. They'll purse their lips and think about how our hair looks stupid and we smell like old cheese.
But maybe, just maybe, we can change the world enough that they'll get it. Maybe if we dare to hope, eventually hope won't feel quite so daring."
Saturday, November 08, 2008
Should have known...
Too much time on my hands this morning. Here are some of my favorite songs from when I was coming of age...
Spin me round by Dead or Alive.
Safety Dance by Men without Hats.
I Ran by A Flock of Seagulls
Pale Shelter - Tears for Fears
That last one there didn't get much airtime on the radio but that and Mothers Talk are a couple of my favorites. I am a huge fan of Tears for Fears to this day. Good to know that I am not the only one. *Giggle* (what is it about Tears for Fears fans and metal music??)
Shout 2000 - Disturbed
Spin me round by Dead or Alive.
Safety Dance by Men without Hats.
I Ran by A Flock of Seagulls
Pale Shelter - Tears for Fears
That last one there didn't get much airtime on the radio but that and Mothers Talk are a couple of my favorites. I am a huge fan of Tears for Fears to this day. Good to know that I am not the only one. *Giggle* (what is it about Tears for Fears fans and metal music??)
Shout 2000 - Disturbed
Stream of Consciousness
I am at the most interesting time of my current life.
I am healthy.
I am (mostly) free of the mental chains put on me by others.
My finances are still a mess.
I am ok with that.
Mostly.
I have a wonderful mom whom I was not born to.
She may not have given me physical life but she gave me emotional life.
Still does.
I have a daughter I don’t see.
Not by her choice or mine.
That choice was made by the woman who birthed me.
I was just diagnosed with endometriosis.
Been livin with it for years.
Getting treated for it and I feel much better.
I quit smoking 5 months ago the other day.
Yeah, I still miss it.
I quit drinking 5 years and 5 months ago.
Yeah, I still miss it.
I have great people in my life.
Friends who would do SecretSquirrelMissions at the drop of the hat. (bonus fuckeduplink here)
Don’t even need the hat really. (insert Palin wink here)
Friends who would (and have) walked through fire with/for me. (mystickisonfire!!!!)
And some who walked with me that I haven’t talked with in a long time. (Miss you!)
We all journey. Me, not as often as I should.
Journeys are good.
One place to another.
Where am I going?
Where have I been?
Where is my coffee?
There it is!
Now, where are my keys?
Sophie B Hawkins followed by Rush followed by Stevie Ray Vaughn covering Hendrix.
I have weird taste in mix CD’s I create. (insert another Palin wink here)
I should get going and get to mom’s place to help with the store room.
Yeah. Ok. Eventually.
Oh! My ADHD med. I need to go take that!
I am healthy.
I am (mostly) free of the mental chains put on me by others.
My finances are still a mess.
I am ok with that.
Mostly.
I have a wonderful mom whom I was not born to.
She may not have given me physical life but she gave me emotional life.
Still does.
I have a daughter I don’t see.
Not by her choice or mine.
That choice was made by the woman who birthed me.
I was just diagnosed with endometriosis.
Been livin with it for years.
Getting treated for it and I feel much better.
I quit smoking 5 months ago the other day.
Yeah, I still miss it.
I quit drinking 5 years and 5 months ago.
Yeah, I still miss it.
I have great people in my life.
Friends who would do SecretSquirrelMissions at the drop of the hat. (bonus fuckeduplink here)
Don’t even need the hat really. (insert Palin wink here)
Friends who would (and have) walked through fire with/for me. (mystickisonfire!!!!)
And some who walked with me that I haven’t talked with in a long time. (Miss you!)
We all journey. Me, not as often as I should.
Journeys are good.
One place to another.
Where am I going?
Where have I been?
Where is my coffee?
There it is!
Now, where are my keys?
Sophie B Hawkins followed by Rush followed by Stevie Ray Vaughn covering Hendrix.
I have weird taste in mix CD’s I create. (insert another Palin wink here)
I should get going and get to mom’s place to help with the store room.
Yeah. Ok. Eventually.
Oh! My ADHD med. I need to go take that!
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
Nearly free at last...
Yesterday more than 65,340,608 people judged a man by the content of his character, not by the color of his skin.
Dr. King, here is your dream...
Today I am in an America where I have hope again. Hope for a better time to come. Not immediately but soon.
I decided to paste Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.'s speech below. I think we should all read this again, take it to heart, and remember that it was but forty-five short years ago that Dr. King gave this speech on the steps of the Lincoln memorial here in Washington DC.
Forty-Five years, 4 months and 23 days later in the same city, on the other end of the National Mall, the United States of America will innagurate its first Black man as President.
"I Have a Dream" by Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
delivered 28 August 1963, at the Lincoln Memorial, Washington D.C.
"I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.
Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.
But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languished in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. And so we've come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.
In a sense we've come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the "unalienable Rights" of "Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness." It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note, insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds."
But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. And so, we've come to cash this check, a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice.
We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of Now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.
It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. And those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. And there will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.
But there is something that I must say to my people, who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice: In the process of gaining our rightful place, we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again, we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force.
The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. And they have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom.
We cannot walk alone.
And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead.
We cannot turn back.
There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their self-hood and robbed of their dignity by a sign stating: "For Whites Only." We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until "justice rolls down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream."¹
I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. And some of you have come from areas where your quest -- quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive. Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed.
Let us not wallow in the valley of despair, I say to you today, my friends.
And so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.
I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal."
I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.
I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.
I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.
I have a dream today!
I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of "interposition" and "nullification" -- one day right there in Alabama little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.
I have a dream today!
I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight; "and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together."²
This is our hope, and this is the faith that I go back to the South with.
With this faith, we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith, we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith, we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.
And this will be the day -- this will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with new meaning:
My country 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing.
Land where my fathers died, land of the Pilgrim's pride,
From every mountainside, let freedom ring!
And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true.
And so let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire.
Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York.
Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania.
Let freedom ring from the snow-capped Rockies of Colorado.
Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California.
But not only that:
Let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia.
Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee.
Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi.
From every mountainside, let freedom ring.
And when this happens, when we allow freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual:
Free at last! Free at last!
Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!³
Dr. King, here is your dream...
Today I am in an America where I have hope again. Hope for a better time to come. Not immediately but soon.
I decided to paste Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.'s speech below. I think we should all read this again, take it to heart, and remember that it was but forty-five short years ago that Dr. King gave this speech on the steps of the Lincoln memorial here in Washington DC.
Forty-Five years, 4 months and 23 days later in the same city, on the other end of the National Mall, the United States of America will innagurate its first Black man as President.
"I Have a Dream" by Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
delivered 28 August 1963, at the Lincoln Memorial, Washington D.C.
"I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.
Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.
But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languished in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. And so we've come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.
In a sense we've come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the "unalienable Rights" of "Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness." It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note, insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds."
But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. And so, we've come to cash this check, a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice.
We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of Now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.
It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. And those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. And there will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.
But there is something that I must say to my people, who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice: In the process of gaining our rightful place, we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again, we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force.
The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. And they have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom.
We cannot walk alone.
And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead.
We cannot turn back.
There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their self-hood and robbed of their dignity by a sign stating: "For Whites Only." We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until "justice rolls down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream."¹
I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. And some of you have come from areas where your quest -- quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive. Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed.
Let us not wallow in the valley of despair, I say to you today, my friends.
And so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.
I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal."
I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.
I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.
I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.
I have a dream today!
I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of "interposition" and "nullification" -- one day right there in Alabama little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.
I have a dream today!
I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight; "and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together."²
This is our hope, and this is the faith that I go back to the South with.
With this faith, we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith, we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith, we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.
And this will be the day -- this will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with new meaning:
My country 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing.
Land where my fathers died, land of the Pilgrim's pride,
From every mountainside, let freedom ring!
And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true.
And so let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire.
Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York.
Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania.
Let freedom ring from the snow-capped Rockies of Colorado.
Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California.
But not only that:
Let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia.
Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee.
Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi.
From every mountainside, let freedom ring.
And when this happens, when we allow freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual:
Free at last! Free at last!
Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!³
Thursday, October 16, 2008
see. . .it's all about perspective.
My partner, two friends and I were talking about how my partner said I was in a baaaad mood yesterday (click here for more on that) and I had said that I was bitchy yesterday. This was the response from one of the two other friends...
"see. . .it's all about perspective.
Bitchy-ness comes in levels: Normal Bitchy is something akin too "all humans are stupid and I will do my best to ignore you but if you ask me a stupid question, I'm going to give you a bitchy answer (that is usually truth just spoken with attitude)
Yesterdays level of Hyper-Bitch is something closer akin to, "All humans are stupid AND I WANT TO KILL YOU ALL. . . . PAINFULLY" see.
You need to be clear about these things."
I will stop laughing soon. I think... Naaah.
"see. . .it's all about perspective.
Bitchy-ness comes in levels: Normal Bitchy is something akin too "all humans are stupid and I will do my best to ignore you but if you ask me a stupid question, I'm going to give you a bitchy answer (that is usually truth just spoken with attitude)
Yesterdays level of Hyper-Bitch is something closer akin to, "All humans are stupid AND I WANT TO KILL YOU ALL. . . . PAINFULLY" see.
You need to be clear about these things."
I will stop laughing soon. I think... Naaah.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
