I began the holiday break going to the local naked hot springs. Made it home in time for dinner, movies, spinning, more food (lots of pie), chai and calm happy relaxation. Then studio time, and then more hot water, then more studio time... tonight I started readying the house for the Art Tour this coming weekend. Life is full and good... so much so that I often feel guilty and wonder when something is going to go wrong. I'm just superstitious enough to believe that if I forget how lucky I am, it'll all go to shit.
For now, I'm thankful, quiet, and just sleepy enough that I should probably head to bed before I get my second wind...
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Volcano JJ, watch out for falling shit
There are times in our lives when we start to unleash the fury inside and before we know it, we have 5 pages. I feel like a volcano. So much has come out and not sure it is all worth the reading. I am a volcano. I can only hold it together for so long before it starts over flowing. I can’t say my cooled lava is nice or pretty. What are left are the dark and deep layers of destruction. This is how I feel inside. I feel like I am in the maze looking for the way out. It only gets deeper in and harder to get my bearings.
I looked to the sky for some bright star to guide my steps only to find the clouds blocking my view. In this dark state, it is hard to see the bright side of anything. I continue to feel this overwhelming knowledge it doesn’t matter who you are how much you try to do. There is an invisible net encumbering your advancement in life. It is like a puppeteer’s string. You are not allowed to make any movements without restraint. There is so much in me that is a lost cause. I dig a deeper hole and each time I feel alone.
I desire so much and know it is just out of reach so I should stop trying to grasp it but I am the eternal Pollyanna and know if…. Just if I keep trying something different will change. I guess that maze will never be mastered by me. Even mice, have a larger intelligence than I do. I am just plain fucking tired of life and all the bullshit hassles that come with it. I sometimes wish life would have redoes. I know many times I would have taken it.
I can’t promise what my posts will become. I KNOW I have no desire to be Jesus. Right now I have too many questions for that philosophy to give a shit. I also won’t subject you to the 5 page post or is it 6? Suffice to say I am fed up with myself and anything that exists in my reality. Anger held within will become like the glass of water you hold for 12 hours. It was so much easier when it was just for 30 seconds. I want a hole in the ground to hide my reality in. I want to feel hopeful. I want hope. I want to take the masks off and be myself. I know no one would like me once they see the true me. I only let people so close before the drawbridge shuts. I am not even sure I want to ever share the space with anyone. I am tired of having shitty weekends filled with shitty events that block the sun from getting through. This is nightmare that I don’t think I can wake up from.
I spent money I really didn’t have on my kids this weekend at a Black Friday sale. How appropriate the name, HA! I warned them this was their Christmas. They don’t have moneybags dad to spoil them this year. They begged for the $10 mp3s. Now I hear, “when I get this for Christmas”. I am going to alter their perception. At 45, I am on a Christmas bureau list. Not sure what that means but oh yeah! Another program to prove I have fallen short and deprived my children of some materialist object that shows them how important they aren’t in my life. Life is what you make it….mine is colander.
I looked to the sky for some bright star to guide my steps only to find the clouds blocking my view. In this dark state, it is hard to see the bright side of anything. I continue to feel this overwhelming knowledge it doesn’t matter who you are how much you try to do. There is an invisible net encumbering your advancement in life. It is like a puppeteer’s string. You are not allowed to make any movements without restraint. There is so much in me that is a lost cause. I dig a deeper hole and each time I feel alone.
I desire so much and know it is just out of reach so I should stop trying to grasp it but I am the eternal Pollyanna and know if…. Just if I keep trying something different will change. I guess that maze will never be mastered by me. Even mice, have a larger intelligence than I do. I am just plain fucking tired of life and all the bullshit hassles that come with it. I sometimes wish life would have redoes. I know many times I would have taken it.
I can’t promise what my posts will become. I KNOW I have no desire to be Jesus. Right now I have too many questions for that philosophy to give a shit. I also won’t subject you to the 5 page post or is it 6? Suffice to say I am fed up with myself and anything that exists in my reality. Anger held within will become like the glass of water you hold for 12 hours. It was so much easier when it was just for 30 seconds. I want a hole in the ground to hide my reality in. I want to feel hopeful. I want hope. I want to take the masks off and be myself. I know no one would like me once they see the true me. I only let people so close before the drawbridge shuts. I am not even sure I want to ever share the space with anyone. I am tired of having shitty weekends filled with shitty events that block the sun from getting through. This is nightmare that I don’t think I can wake up from.
I spent money I really didn’t have on my kids this weekend at a Black Friday sale. How appropriate the name, HA! I warned them this was their Christmas. They don’t have moneybags dad to spoil them this year. They begged for the $10 mp3s. Now I hear, “when I get this for Christmas”. I am going to alter their perception. At 45, I am on a Christmas bureau list. Not sure what that means but oh yeah! Another program to prove I have fallen short and deprived my children of some materialist object that shows them how important they aren’t in my life. Life is what you make it….mine is colander.
Saturday, November 29, 2008
See, all this genocide and rape and plundering happened, and I just can't pretend it didn't, and that all of us aren't responsible.
That's why I don't celebrate 'thanksgiving'. Not anymore.
While I may very well (and often do) have several things to be deeply grateful for, I figure I can celebrate that on any day of the year, without simultaneously turning a blind eye and heart to the human collateral, the millions of dead, raped, mutilated bodies whose haunting, deafening and suffocating stench should be choking all of our bloated overprivileged asses...who surround this supposed day of 'remembrance' like a fog thick as the oceans of blood we spilled to get to this wonderful place where we have so fucking much to be thankful for.
Nobody wants to deal with this. I don't want to deal with it. But we are guilty and responsible and every one of us should be sobbing into our soup right now, drowning in our guilt, but none of us will be. Every one of us should be on our knees begging for forgiveness (that should rightfully never be given) of the few who are still standing after generations of murder and 're-location' and starvation and deprivation. Who's cultures have been destroyed and lost and buried beneath centuries of hate-and-greed filled censure. Who's lives and cries and humanity we have ignored obscenely, without remorse.
This country is not ours. It is theirs. We killed them and stole their land, then had the motherfucking nerve to name them 'Native Americans'. Motherfuckers, this country is not called America. It had a thousand other names we never took the time to learn, and thousands of beautiful human cultures and languages and ways of being we fell all over ourselves to wipe off the face of the fucking earth as fast as possible, only to act like they never were and that the mere mention of them is some petty social screw-up. How dare you ruin my selfish gluttonous guilt-soaked 'celebration' of my privilege, you politically correct, buzz-killing loser!
I know you don't care about this. You want your turkey and your gravy and you'll take your super-sized side of denial with an extra helping of defensive reactionary mis-directed anger, if you please. I'm no better. But I'm not going to pretend all is hunky-dory so that you can eat your dead birds in peace.
Because the thousands of turkeys that die every year on this travesty of a 'holiday' aren't the only deaths you are ignoring or pretending are justified or pretending aren't real.
Millions of unmarked graves right beneath your feet. An untold amount of human, children, totally innocent blood, layers of death and suffering swirling just beneath 'your' lawns and streets and feet.
Not that any of us actually give a fuck. How dare I ruin your (our) precious moments of stolen comfort, after all. Who am I to say anything. I'm white. My ancestors murdered by the hundreds and thousands. My family is from the south, for fuck's sake. Cradle of slavery and evil.
Better to not speak of it. Better to forget, or at least try your damndest not to remember. Better to make polite conversation about cranberry sauce and wine, and all we have to be fucking thankful for as the priviledged, as the conquerors, as the shining, winning example of human wonderment that we are.
After all, ours is a great nation. Who cares how we came by it? What it was built on? It could be worse. We could live in Afghanistan or something. They don't even have free speech.
I wonder how free the speech of the descendants of the mass-murdered is on this day? How many PBS specials, how many news reports, how many television shows are dedicated to their opinions and ideas on what the fuck is really going on here?
You know what 'thanksgiving' is? Fucking pissing on the graves of millions of fucking people, like having a picnic on them and having an orgy all dirtied up in the dirt and denial we've been piling on for hundreds of years. It is the absolute height of adding insult to injury.
Many, many people died...were murdered at the hands of our ancestors. That's what this day marks. What it really 'celebrates'. That we kicked their ass, killed them off, took their land and chased them out of their homes and into cages of oppression, and were/are victorious! Children were raped and killed for fun. FOR FUN. So that you (we) can sit at your tables and stuff yourselves silly with food, alcohol, and the grimace of unspeakable things simmering along with your special family sauces.
This is nothing to celebrate. This is nothing to be thankful for. I wonder how many 'Native American' families smiled smugly to themselves and each other on this day? I wonder if they felt grateful for anything in particular? I mean, how would you fucking feel if this was the life, these were the memories, this was the knowledge that you inherited. How would any of us know the first fucking thing about how this feels? What gives us the motherfucking right to celebrate ANYTHING after what we have done, let alone THIS?
Fuck that. I don't think I have anything at all to be grateful for. Ever. I have a lot to own up to, and a lot to feel like shit about. As does any and every 'American', as far as I'm concerned.
I'm not going to shut the fuck up about this and leave you to your oblivion. Nope. So hate on me if you must. I'd rather that. Anything but another round of warm-fuzzies for those of us drenched in the blood and suffering of an ENTIRE NATION OF PEOPLE THAT ARE NO LONGER HERE BECAUSE WE KILLED THEM!!!
It's good to be gods, ain't it?
Soli.
While I may very well (and often do) have several things to be deeply grateful for, I figure I can celebrate that on any day of the year, without simultaneously turning a blind eye and heart to the human collateral, the millions of dead, raped, mutilated bodies whose haunting, deafening and suffocating stench should be choking all of our bloated overprivileged asses...who surround this supposed day of 'remembrance' like a fog thick as the oceans of blood we spilled to get to this wonderful place where we have so fucking much to be thankful for.
Nobody wants to deal with this. I don't want to deal with it. But we are guilty and responsible and every one of us should be sobbing into our soup right now, drowning in our guilt, but none of us will be. Every one of us should be on our knees begging for forgiveness (that should rightfully never be given) of the few who are still standing after generations of murder and 're-location' and starvation and deprivation. Who's cultures have been destroyed and lost and buried beneath centuries of hate-and-greed filled censure. Who's lives and cries and humanity we have ignored obscenely, without remorse.
This country is not ours. It is theirs. We killed them and stole their land, then had the motherfucking nerve to name them 'Native Americans'. Motherfuckers, this country is not called America. It had a thousand other names we never took the time to learn, and thousands of beautiful human cultures and languages and ways of being we fell all over ourselves to wipe off the face of the fucking earth as fast as possible, only to act like they never were and that the mere mention of them is some petty social screw-up. How dare you ruin my selfish gluttonous guilt-soaked 'celebration' of my privilege, you politically correct, buzz-killing loser!
I know you don't care about this. You want your turkey and your gravy and you'll take your super-sized side of denial with an extra helping of defensive reactionary mis-directed anger, if you please. I'm no better. But I'm not going to pretend all is hunky-dory so that you can eat your dead birds in peace.
Because the thousands of turkeys that die every year on this travesty of a 'holiday' aren't the only deaths you are ignoring or pretending are justified or pretending aren't real.
Millions of unmarked graves right beneath your feet. An untold amount of human, children, totally innocent blood, layers of death and suffering swirling just beneath 'your' lawns and streets and feet.
Not that any of us actually give a fuck. How dare I ruin your (our) precious moments of stolen comfort, after all. Who am I to say anything. I'm white. My ancestors murdered by the hundreds and thousands. My family is from the south, for fuck's sake. Cradle of slavery and evil.
Better to not speak of it. Better to forget, or at least try your damndest not to remember. Better to make polite conversation about cranberry sauce and wine, and all we have to be fucking thankful for as the priviledged, as the conquerors, as the shining, winning example of human wonderment that we are.
After all, ours is a great nation. Who cares how we came by it? What it was built on? It could be worse. We could live in Afghanistan or something. They don't even have free speech.
I wonder how free the speech of the descendants of the mass-murdered is on this day? How many PBS specials, how many news reports, how many television shows are dedicated to their opinions and ideas on what the fuck is really going on here?
You know what 'thanksgiving' is? Fucking pissing on the graves of millions of fucking people, like having a picnic on them and having an orgy all dirtied up in the dirt and denial we've been piling on for hundreds of years. It is the absolute height of adding insult to injury.
Many, many people died...were murdered at the hands of our ancestors. That's what this day marks. What it really 'celebrates'. That we kicked their ass, killed them off, took their land and chased them out of their homes and into cages of oppression, and were/are victorious! Children were raped and killed for fun. FOR FUN. So that you (we) can sit at your tables and stuff yourselves silly with food, alcohol, and the grimace of unspeakable things simmering along with your special family sauces.
This is nothing to celebrate. This is nothing to be thankful for. I wonder how many 'Native American' families smiled smugly to themselves and each other on this day? I wonder if they felt grateful for anything in particular? I mean, how would you fucking feel if this was the life, these were the memories, this was the knowledge that you inherited. How would any of us know the first fucking thing about how this feels? What gives us the motherfucking right to celebrate ANYTHING after what we have done, let alone THIS?
Fuck that. I don't think I have anything at all to be grateful for. Ever. I have a lot to own up to, and a lot to feel like shit about. As does any and every 'American', as far as I'm concerned.
I'm not going to shut the fuck up about this and leave you to your oblivion. Nope. So hate on me if you must. I'd rather that. Anything but another round of warm-fuzzies for those of us drenched in the blood and suffering of an ENTIRE NATION OF PEOPLE THAT ARE NO LONGER HERE BECAUSE WE KILLED THEM!!!
It's good to be gods, ain't it?
Soli.
Friday, November 28, 2008
Back to Tericloth
Being Jesus definitely enlightened me, so much happened and so much to feel, then this strange new outlook by writing as a man who died so long ago. What would Jesus feel if he was me? In a way it makes me realize that he is inside me already.
I have never doubted Gods existence. Just living life and seeing all those strange little twists and turns, the anomalies and mysteries all point to a higher power, whatever you'd like it to be called.
When I was Eleven I was baptized by a church I did not believe in, and I feared I was making false promises to God. I left the church as soon as I could, I am still not fond of them. I don't like the idea of a man speaking what he thinks of Jesus, I want to think my own things.
Even on acid, it was me and God. That was it. I felt like my feet were stuck to the ground, and God was way far away. How could I reach him? My voice was swept away by the wind and there was no use to cry out. At the same time though, I felt like he was inside me as well, and I could feel it.
This small window of time writing as Jesus was a way for me to talk to Him, tell my feelings towards issues in my life like love, sexuality and happiness.
I'm relieved in a way to going back to Tericloth, not too hard to write when its your own life out of your own eyes :P
Good luck to whoever goes next, and I do suggest two months, it really gives you time to think and write.
peace
I have never doubted Gods existence. Just living life and seeing all those strange little twists and turns, the anomalies and mysteries all point to a higher power, whatever you'd like it to be called.
When I was Eleven I was baptized by a church I did not believe in, and I feared I was making false promises to God. I left the church as soon as I could, I am still not fond of them. I don't like the idea of a man speaking what he thinks of Jesus, I want to think my own things.
Even on acid, it was me and God. That was it. I felt like my feet were stuck to the ground, and God was way far away. How could I reach him? My voice was swept away by the wind and there was no use to cry out. At the same time though, I felt like he was inside me as well, and I could feel it.
This small window of time writing as Jesus was a way for me to talk to Him, tell my feelings towards issues in my life like love, sexuality and happiness.
I'm relieved in a way to going back to Tericloth, not too hard to write when its your own life out of your own eyes :P
Good luck to whoever goes next, and I do suggest two months, it really gives you time to think and write.
peace
Leftovers
The pathology test was a nightmare - but it's over and I'm sure I passed, so it's on to the next one.
There were two omnivores (Nino and Chris) and two veggies (Karen and moi) for Thanksgiving this year and we seriously outdid ourselves. Nino and I prepared the turkey, sourdough stuffing, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes (with vegan marshmallows, yay!), pineapple cranberry sauce, green beans amandine and two gravies (turkey and mushroom). Karen and Chris contributed stuffed mushrooms, garlic bread, white bean dip, apple cider, vegan cream cake, and two pies (pumpkin and apple) with whipped cream. Afterwords, we collapsed onto the couch and watched The Return of the King, for the 10,000th time.
Since K & C took the pies home, I baked an apple-blueberry pie for us today, our favorite. Yum.
I'm thankful to be here with you all, among many other things. Time to study.
There were two omnivores (Nino and Chris) and two veggies (Karen and moi) for Thanksgiving this year and we seriously outdid ourselves. Nino and I prepared the turkey, sourdough stuffing, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes (with vegan marshmallows, yay!), pineapple cranberry sauce, green beans amandine and two gravies (turkey and mushroom). Karen and Chris contributed stuffed mushrooms, garlic bread, white bean dip, apple cider, vegan cream cake, and two pies (pumpkin and apple) with whipped cream. Afterwords, we collapsed onto the couch and watched The Return of the King, for the 10,000th time.
Since K & C took the pies home, I baked an apple-blueberry pie for us today, our favorite. Yum.
I'm thankful to be here with you all, among many other things. Time to study.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Thanksgiving dinner
Today went pretty well. I love thanksgiving, but yall already knew that. It was four of us this year: myself; Laura; Crystal; and our friend Donna. I cooked for 2 days and just as we sat down to dinner it started really really snowing. It was pretty.
So today we ate and talked and watched movies and chilled and ate some more and cleaned out a bisque kiln and then I made Chai and we ate a little more.
I go a little crazy. There were 4 folks and 6 pies. Crystal made the green beans and everyone helped move food to the table and they all cleaned up while I sat and had a glass of Fresca afterward. The tofurky (yes I made and actual tofurky) turned out well as did everything else and the new sweet potato recipe I tried was wonderful. The bread didn't rise correctly and turned out a little biscuit like but hey, it was still good. And basque pie, I love and adore basque pie. We're still destroying the deviled eggs :) and Laura says this years pecan pie is the best ever. (Dark Karo syrup is the key).
I think the best moment all day was when Laura was cutting up the bread and a piece dropped into the paws of our Shepard Emma. She immediately snatched it up in her jaws and by the time I looked she was wearing a beatific bread smile. If the dog is happy, it must be a good day.
So today we ate and talked and watched movies and chilled and ate some more and cleaned out a bisque kiln and then I made Chai and we ate a little more.
I go a little crazy. There were 4 folks and 6 pies. Crystal made the green beans and everyone helped move food to the table and they all cleaned up while I sat and had a glass of Fresca afterward. The tofurky (yes I made and actual tofurky) turned out well as did everything else and the new sweet potato recipe I tried was wonderful. The bread didn't rise correctly and turned out a little biscuit like but hey, it was still good. And basque pie, I love and adore basque pie. We're still destroying the deviled eggs :) and Laura says this years pecan pie is the best ever. (Dark Karo syrup is the key).
I think the best moment all day was when Laura was cutting up the bread and a piece dropped into the paws of our Shepard Emma. She immediately snatched it up in her jaws and by the time I looked she was wearing a beatific bread smile. If the dog is happy, it must be a good day.
In search of the next new Jesus
Hey ya'll.
In keeping with the fine tradition of our novel, it's time to get a new Jesus here at Emisphor.
First off, special thanks to Tericloth for her magnificent job over the past two months. The world has never seen a Jesus like her, for sure. But we had originally been thinking it would be a one month gig ... so I'm hoping someone will volunteer for December. Of course, that could be especially exciting with Christmas and all. :)
Any takers?
Love,
James, Hook and (RIP) Liz
In keeping with the fine tradition of our novel, it's time to get a new Jesus here at Emisphor.
First off, special thanks to Tericloth for her magnificent job over the past two months. The world has never seen a Jesus like her, for sure. But we had originally been thinking it would be a one month gig ... so I'm hoping someone will volunteer for December. Of course, that could be especially exciting with Christmas and all. :)
Any takers?
Love,
James, Hook and (RIP) Liz
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Who's being judged here?
I got a judgment letter today. It states his support is lowered to $568 and arrears for $100. I couldn't make it on the small amount he was paying so good f&&&&ng luck on the less. I hate life and right now most everyone in it. The decisions I made have strong consequences. I have so much to be thankful for..... since this won't end well... hope yours is better.
I might be dreaming
Balance is tough, sometimes, but worth the trouble.
It seems as though, at 34, I'm just beginning to learn about love. Or rather, the continuum of love, the fluidity of it. How difficult it can sometimes be and how it morphs a little for everyone I'm with.
So, here's a non-poetic update--
Currently, and likely indefinately, there are 3 loves in my life, as follows:
Angie, who, I suppose, could be called primary (though I kind of dislike the term). We are ridiculous together, and some would say nauseating. We stare aimlessly into each other's eyes for stupid amounts of time and rub noses often. We giggle and laugh and spend hours wrapped around each other. Sometimes it's difficult to remember there's a whole world waiting just outside the door and we sometimes cry when our time together ends and we have to go back to reality. It's a deep, intense, crazy love we share.
Jae Jae is my boi. He (because he prefers male pronouns, though technically female) knows everything there is to know about me. I'd trust him with anything. I swear our souls have been together for a very long time, over many lifetimes past, because we are that comfortable together. Best friends and lovers. We might remind you of an old married couple with the way we finish sentences, communicate perfectly without speaking, and intuitively know what each other wants/needs. It's kind of adorable.
Briley makes me laugh like no other and I find it completely impossible to be in a bad mood around her. Literally. She's insanely dapper and thoughtful. Together, we are old fashioned and silly in the most delightful ways. We work extra hard to make each other smile and have a bit of a competition going on...who can be the *most* charming? We outdo ourselves frequently, and it's fantastic. Briley reminds me of glitter, because that's how she sparkles.
I'm learning separation, balance, scheduling and, most importantly, self care. Tiffany time is a frequent requirement. I need to recharge. I feel abundantly loved, so much so that it sometimes feels unfair. What did I do to deserve being this blessed? Especially since all three of them hang out frequently together, and are becomming good friends (as I have become with their other girlfriends, as well). It feels like a family and it's delightful.
Yes, it's rough sometimes, however, and issues frequently arise. But we work through them for a mutually agreeable solution. And it works.
All of this on top of having four beautiful, amazing children who now have 3 more adults to love them and be silly with them.
Perhaps someone should pinch me and wake me up. I have much to be thankful for, indeed.
Blessings to you all.
It seems as though, at 34, I'm just beginning to learn about love. Or rather, the continuum of love, the fluidity of it. How difficult it can sometimes be and how it morphs a little for everyone I'm with.
So, here's a non-poetic update--
Currently, and likely indefinately, there are 3 loves in my life, as follows:
Angie, who, I suppose, could be called primary (though I kind of dislike the term). We are ridiculous together, and some would say nauseating. We stare aimlessly into each other's eyes for stupid amounts of time and rub noses often. We giggle and laugh and spend hours wrapped around each other. Sometimes it's difficult to remember there's a whole world waiting just outside the door and we sometimes cry when our time together ends and we have to go back to reality. It's a deep, intense, crazy love we share.
Jae Jae is my boi. He (because he prefers male pronouns, though technically female) knows everything there is to know about me. I'd trust him with anything. I swear our souls have been together for a very long time, over many lifetimes past, because we are that comfortable together. Best friends and lovers. We might remind you of an old married couple with the way we finish sentences, communicate perfectly without speaking, and intuitively know what each other wants/needs. It's kind of adorable.
Briley makes me laugh like no other and I find it completely impossible to be in a bad mood around her. Literally. She's insanely dapper and thoughtful. Together, we are old fashioned and silly in the most delightful ways. We work extra hard to make each other smile and have a bit of a competition going on...who can be the *most* charming? We outdo ourselves frequently, and it's fantastic. Briley reminds me of glitter, because that's how she sparkles.
I'm learning separation, balance, scheduling and, most importantly, self care. Tiffany time is a frequent requirement. I need to recharge. I feel abundantly loved, so much so that it sometimes feels unfair. What did I do to deserve being this blessed? Especially since all three of them hang out frequently together, and are becomming good friends (as I have become with their other girlfriends, as well). It feels like a family and it's delightful.
Yes, it's rough sometimes, however, and issues frequently arise. But we work through them for a mutually agreeable solution. And it works.
All of this on top of having four beautiful, amazing children who now have 3 more adults to love them and be silly with them.
Perhaps someone should pinch me and wake me up. I have much to be thankful for, indeed.
Blessings to you all.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Autograph
How does one go about getting their book autographed? I am ordering mine. I am sure it shall become a prized possession.
I am so excited for you.
I am so excited for you.
Swept Up
Now that Denny's gotten the ball rolling, I too have pre-ordered "Jesus Swept."
Can't wait to read it. Here's to you, James!
:)
Can't wait to read it. Here's to you, James!
:)
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Electile Dysfunction
I went to a gwar concert. There is no denying what kind of music show this is when you just look at the picture. I wore rocker boots, black tights, a pink miniskirt, and a glow in the dark star sweatshirt. At first I felt strange, got alot of looks because this skirt is bright pink and its quite short. Later on it turned out to be the perfect outfit, except I didn't wear white to bring out the blood. Yes, blooood.
That had to be the best concert as far as visual feasting that I've ever seen. They put on a show about the election, where they brought out the candidates for Intergalactic wrestling! First they brought out John McCain. They ripped out his guts and sprayed the crowd with his blood. I was sure to get my face covered in that! Ha!
Next they brought out Hilary Clinton and she fought kind of good, but then they ripped her breasts off and her blood sprayed all over the crowd. Lastly of course was Obama, they chopped off his head and sprayed the crowd with his stump.
The last round was between two gnarl y rockers, and it ended with a chainsaw down his back and onto the crowd. The skinheads and the metal kids all surged into one teeming mass and I was right in the middle of it.
It was hilarious! Oh I moshed and screamed and yelled and had a great time... stayed in the mosh pit the whole night and was covered in fake blood that I couldn't get off for several days. Angel stayed up top, I'd look up and see her moshing out up there spilling *one* of her vodka tonics.
A boy was trying to hold my hand the whole night. One of those sweet teenage stoner types. He was cute.. maybe in an alternate universe. His name was Leo, I got his number and I'll never call him, I'd rather remember the night rockin out to a rediculous band.
At the end I looked I had come out of a massacre.
I will be spending Christmas with Angel, we already have presents collecting under the christmas tree. I hope she gets me a new glass piece. Its the first time away from my family. I will visit them after the holidays, to avoid traffic. It will be strange to be back, in a way I don't want to go. Don't want to say goodbye again.
John and I had a falling out. He thought I was using him, I was trying to give him space. I called him to walk me home, and he yelled at me and hung up. *sigh*
Angel says, "Fuck him. People come and go."
Deep inside I know its for the best, but I still miss him a bit... he's one of my only friends up here.
Well life goes on, and I am going to go watch "Tremors" with Angel.
Peace
Bizarre is becoming normal
Today I went to the funeral of a man I'd come to know. Mostly I went because Laura was close to his partner and I didn't want her to have to go alone. It was at the Nazerene church. This was THE worst funeral service I've ever been to. Our friend that died was a wonderful man. He was 67 and lived a fabulous life: he was in the Navy on the Coral Sea; worked for government research and helped invent the solar cells that are used in space; was loved by his family, his church and his community. Several folks stood up and spoke about him, some even made us laugh remembering the way our bud went about helping everyone around him. (I'm not using his name so that search engines don't find my post-I'm sneaky that way).
The downer was the preacher dude. He was fine when he was quoting scripture about love and faith and all, and especially good when he spoke about how great our friend was. But then he launched into some bat shit crazy assed sermon about blood sacrifice and blood covenants and spraying people with blood soaked hyssop blossoms. I kept thinking, "what the FUCK?" and I looked over at Laura and she had the same look on her face, as did our bud Christie who was sitting in front of us.
Bat shit crazy. I haven't been in a church in quite a while. Our friend was really into this one. He went and cooked breakfast there once a week, sang in the choir and attended services three times a week or so. I get why they loved him.
Somehow as I watched this service I kept thinking.... how odd...... they really believe this bat shit crazy assed fable.
I get people who have faith, folks who believe in their one god and the son on the cross and all that. I get the folks who speak in tongues. I get the Catholics who stand up and sit down together and repeat stuff during their neo-pagan meetings. I get the jewish folks who don't believe that their savior has come yet. I get the buddists and the muslims. I get having faith and believing it and living it.
What I don't get is this bat shit crazy assed sermon about blood during a funeral service for a kind and gentle man.
He deserved better.
We all deserve better.
From ourselves, our friends and our chosen god or gods.
We deserve it.
The downer was the preacher dude. He was fine when he was quoting scripture about love and faith and all, and especially good when he spoke about how great our friend was. But then he launched into some bat shit crazy assed sermon about blood sacrifice and blood covenants and spraying people with blood soaked hyssop blossoms. I kept thinking, "what the FUCK?" and I looked over at Laura and she had the same look on her face, as did our bud Christie who was sitting in front of us.
Bat shit crazy. I haven't been in a church in quite a while. Our friend was really into this one. He went and cooked breakfast there once a week, sang in the choir and attended services three times a week or so. I get why they loved him.
Somehow as I watched this service I kept thinking.... how odd...... they really believe this bat shit crazy assed fable.
I get people who have faith, folks who believe in their one god and the son on the cross and all that. I get the folks who speak in tongues. I get the Catholics who stand up and sit down together and repeat stuff during their neo-pagan meetings. I get the jewish folks who don't believe that their savior has come yet. I get the buddists and the muslims. I get having faith and believing it and living it.
What I don't get is this bat shit crazy assed sermon about blood during a funeral service for a kind and gentle man.
He deserved better.
We all deserve better.
From ourselves, our friends and our chosen god or gods.
We deserve it.
I Will Follow
Managed to track you Aetherian wayfarers down after noticing a deadly silence at the Tribe. Since I'm feverishly studying for a pathology exam next week (while munching on a huge cheese sandwich prepared by Nino), here's a re-post from Tribe.Glad to be back.
Still in vet school - made it thru my first year without major problems (except threatening to divorce Nino several times over, but that's a long story). Three weeks from finishing the first half of my second year - next semester is supposed to be the worst (30+ units!) but after that it's cake. Right. Two-point-five years left in this frozen wasteland.
Planning a big Thanksgiving with other students who aren't going "home" and am looking forward to celebrating Winter Solstice. The days will be getting longer thereafter.
Keeping you all warm in my heart, despite the frigid weather.
No trip to the pokey today.
It was another wasted trip. This time it was in my best interest that nothing was decided. He has lost his job and we were moved to a Jan. 13th postponed so he could have a job by then. He hasn't even worked enough this year to qualify for unemployment. He tried to shake up things but my SRS attorney was on her toes. I actually like this one. He also tried to get them as a tax deduction. My atty said, "he is more than $12,000 in arrears and she needs this money". I wish thay had brought up the fact I have held the same job since I moved here. He made the trek and without an attorney of his own. I was terrified to be in the same small room with him and his anger. You could feel the charge in the air and had he been armed I would be dead right now. Regardless of his hatred, he never once asked about his kids. He did admit they no longer want to see him. In my head I had already decided if he asked me about them, I would ask if he would like to come have lunch with his girls. This way I would have 3 to 4 friends to keep guard and make sure he didn't do something stupid. R is forgiving and forgetting. She is mad I didn't make that offer to him. I will not make him into a better father. I am shocked she wants to again go spend time with him. Of course, this is the time of year for him to be unemployed. It is Christmas season. No extra money for presents. We are getting used to it, although this year his great gifts won't be happening. Since he rarely talks to them and when R does call him, the older two become busy. I am told it is ok they don't want to talk to him. It is ok to be mad at the man who should care about them far more than they do. I am praying he gets a REALLY GOOD job and keeps it until Jan. One that will pay so much his support can be raised so we can actually function without robbing peter to pay paul. Some day......
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Electile Dysfunction
I went to a gwar concert. There is no denying what kind of music show this is when you just look at the picture. I wore rocker boots, black tights, a pink miniskirt, and a glow in the dark star sweatshirt. At first I felt strange, got alot of looks because this skirt is bright pink and its quite short. Later on it turned out to be the perfect outfit, except I didn't wear white to bring out the blood. Yes, blooood.
That had to be the best concert as far as visual feasting that I've ever seen. They put on a show about the election, where they brought out the candidates for Intergalactic wrestling! First they brought out John McCain. They ripped out his guts and sprayed the crowd with his blood. I was sure to get my face covered in that! Ha!
Next they brought out Hilary Clinton and she fought kind of good, but then they ripped her breasts off and her blood sprayed all over the crowd. Lastly of course was Obama, they chopped off his head and sprayed the crowd with his stump.
The last round was between two gnarl y rockers, and it ended with a chainsaw down his back and onto the crowd. The skinheads and the metal kids all surged into one teeming mass and I was right in the middle of it.
It was hilarious! Oh I moshed and screamed and yelled and had a great time... stayed in the mosh pit the whole night and was covered in fake blood that I couldn't get off for several days. Angel stayed up top, I'd look up and see her moshing out up there spilling *one* of her vodka tonics.
A boy was trying to hold my hand the whole night. One of those sweet teenage stoner types. He was cute.. maybe in an alternate universe. His name was Leo, I got his number and I'll never call him, I'd rather remember the night rockin out to a rediculous band.
At the end I looked I had come out of a massacre.
I will be spending Christmas with Angel, we already have presents collecting under the christmas tree. I hope she gets me a new glass piece. Its the first time away from my family. I will visit them after the holidays, to avoid traffic. It will be strange to be back, in a way I don't want to go. Don't want to say goodbye again.
John and I had a falling out. He thought I was using him, I was trying to give him space. I called him to walk me home, and he yelled at me and hung up. *sigh*
Angel says, "Fuck him. People come and go."
Deep inside I know its for the best, but I still miss him a bit... he's one of my only friends up here.
Well life goes on, and I am going to go watch "Tremors" with Angel.
Peace
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
One day
Tomorrow is court. I am nervous. He has "lost" his job. I am quite sure it is a ploy on his part to get out of support. I can only hope the "justice system" sees through his crap and slaps him hard with some true realism. BUT it could also work agaisnt us and I could end up on the losing side yet again. All this on the brink of Christmas and kids needing clothes. The poor DF needs to have such pity because he pays SOOOO much for his 3 kids who matter to him as much as a pimple on his butt. Maybe that matters more since it physically pains him. He just physically pains us. SRS will be defending me and I have no clue how tough they will be. I have a lot to do tonight to prove my needs. Let's hope he doesn't show up, that would be wonderful for me.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Sunday, November 16, 2008
65
Bowls today! I threw 65 bowls on the wheel today. It's like a personal best. I'm very excited about that..... and that Soli posted. She's the bomb!
Sporadic Sunday something else that starts with an 's'. ;)
Hey people.
Well, if any of you have been reading my blog, you pretty much know exactly how I've been lately. :)
Also, MY GAY BOY IS IN TOWN!!!
It was sooooooooooooo good to see him again. We hugged each other really tightly and kissed and giggled nervously and had a simply maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarvelous time.
Got home, cleaned the shit out of the apartment, waiting for my ex to drop Ryo off (watched him for the day so I could see my bitch...the man does have his good points :)).
Lover has acquired a second job, and is off working it. I'll be looking for a second job this week...trying to get out of debt so we can get a place a little bigger than the matchbox we reside in currently.
Had an especially ferocious panic attack last night after being alone with my kid all day...cooped up in our microscopic apartment, bored out of both our minds (no car, lover and I share one, he takes it to work), no energy to go out walking, him needing me to entertain him every second...aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh. Some days, parenting is so overwhelming and terrifying that I just don't feel like I can handle it. :( But, I had my breakdown and am recovering...just needed to shatter for a few hours and sob my heart out.
Better today. One day at a time.
The main job is going well, been hired on permanent and for some reason, everybody loves me there. Shrug. I show up on time, do as much work as I can stomach and am pleasant. If that makes me a stellar employee, then the bar is pretty fucking low.
The election had me in all sorts of crazy emotional stitches. On the one hand, I was happy that the people got a chance to actually elect a president. On the other, I have no hope that anything will get better under any politician, no matter how clever their slogans and how charismatic their personalities. Pessimistic? Maybe. But it feels more sensible than letting the lofty dreamy rhetoric of the day carry me off into Unrealistic Expectation Land.
I have a feeling a lot of people are going to come down really hard and really fast from this epidemic high. It makes me sad for them.
The stupid fucking abominations that were Prop 8 and their out-of-state parodies really put me over the edge. I lost it on a few of the buttholes 'protesting' on the street and called them very mean names. I couldn't help it. There are a lot of things I can let slide, but not the civil rights trampling of my queer folk. Oh hell fucking no. They are my people, I love them dearly, and those who fuck with them shall fear me.
Is all well with the lot of you? No time to read at the moment. Gotta catch up on a couple other things. Sigh...there's never any time.
Denny, thanks for the compliment on Vote for Yourself. Love you right back. :)
Soli.
Well, if any of you have been reading my blog, you pretty much know exactly how I've been lately. :)
Also, MY GAY BOY IS IN TOWN!!!
It was sooooooooooooo good to see him again. We hugged each other really tightly and kissed and giggled nervously and had a simply maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarvelous time.
Got home, cleaned the shit out of the apartment, waiting for my ex to drop Ryo off (watched him for the day so I could see my bitch...the man does have his good points :)).
Lover has acquired a second job, and is off working it. I'll be looking for a second job this week...trying to get out of debt so we can get a place a little bigger than the matchbox we reside in currently.
Had an especially ferocious panic attack last night after being alone with my kid all day...cooped up in our microscopic apartment, bored out of both our minds (no car, lover and I share one, he takes it to work), no energy to go out walking, him needing me to entertain him every second...aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh. Some days, parenting is so overwhelming and terrifying that I just don't feel like I can handle it. :( But, I had my breakdown and am recovering...just needed to shatter for a few hours and sob my heart out.
Better today. One day at a time.
The main job is going well, been hired on permanent and for some reason, everybody loves me there. Shrug. I show up on time, do as much work as I can stomach and am pleasant. If that makes me a stellar employee, then the bar is pretty fucking low.
The election had me in all sorts of crazy emotional stitches. On the one hand, I was happy that the people got a chance to actually elect a president. On the other, I have no hope that anything will get better under any politician, no matter how clever their slogans and how charismatic their personalities. Pessimistic? Maybe. But it feels more sensible than letting the lofty dreamy rhetoric of the day carry me off into Unrealistic Expectation Land.
I have a feeling a lot of people are going to come down really hard and really fast from this epidemic high. It makes me sad for them.
The stupid fucking abominations that were Prop 8 and their out-of-state parodies really put me over the edge. I lost it on a few of the buttholes 'protesting' on the street and called them very mean names. I couldn't help it. There are a lot of things I can let slide, but not the civil rights trampling of my queer folk. Oh hell fucking no. They are my people, I love them dearly, and those who fuck with them shall fear me.
Is all well with the lot of you? No time to read at the moment. Gotta catch up on a couple other things. Sigh...there's never any time.
Denny, thanks for the compliment on Vote for Yourself. Love you right back. :)
Soli.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Planning the Inauguration
I'm opening up my studio today for folks to make bowls for a fundraiser for our local art group. This makes me a little nervous. I'm a bit of a clean freak about the place. Gotta be, I throw mud around in there.
Laura and I are playing each other songs we think should go on at the inauguration. She has a collection of really good stuff, from the Black Eyed Peas to compilations that have Obama spoken words in them. All I want is Parliament's Chocolate City to be played. :)
The change I hope is coming will be exciting to watch. I know the voices I hear moving through Obama's speeches and the light in Biden's eyes make me hopeful. Haven't felt this in a while. I know they're not perfect. I know I'll get disappointed by something along the way because of the necessary compromises in government.
I just don't care. I'm going to believe, and fall, and bleed. It's what makes us human.
Laura and I are playing each other songs we think should go on at the inauguration. She has a collection of really good stuff, from the Black Eyed Peas to compilations that have Obama spoken words in them. All I want is Parliament's Chocolate City to be played. :)
The change I hope is coming will be exciting to watch. I know the voices I hear moving through Obama's speeches and the light in Biden's eyes make me hopeful. Haven't felt this in a while. I know they're not perfect. I know I'll get disappointed by something along the way because of the necessary compromises in government.
I just don't care. I'm going to believe, and fall, and bleed. It's what makes us human.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
sorry we've been away
number one son got married on saturday in florida ... pictures not yet available. but when they do come available, watch the heck out. this was one seriously awesome wedding extravaganza.
should be back in the emisphor saddle shortly. book went to press this week!
WOOT!
should be back in the emisphor saddle shortly. book went to press this week!
WOOT!
Monday, November 10, 2008
Stay
These are the things I will take with me...
The feel of early morning silence
Lids off of coffee before the first sip
The memory of shadows falling across her face
And the way her eyes paralyze me.
"Wait. Don't go yet..."
Roller coaster rides with my heart
Overt fascination with simplicity
The exact way music moves me
Golden eyes and smiles at strangers across a room
"No, no, not yet..."
Small-town innocence tangled up in big-city fantasies
Dreams and nightmares and memories
Random reminders of unwelcome breath on my face
Amazing solace in sunsets and changing leaves
"Stop. Please don't go yet..."
The moment each of them was born
Every joy. Every heartache. Every scar.
How it felt to kneel before her, heart in hand
And hating the unjustness of it all.
"No. You'll be missed..."
Comfort that I can only find in pain
A passionate desire to hold the hand of every person in need
Intensity and randomly misplaced emotions
Every rational and irrational thought I've ever had
"No, wait. Just a little longer..."
Serenity in lavender scented bubbles
Dancing with the lonely ones
Flashbacks and fear of failure
Procrastination mastered and perfected
"Don't you want to see what happens next?"
Flashes of anger and flailing words
Beautiful masks and forced strength
Clenched teeth hiding behind forced smiles
And disappearing acts.
"You can't quit now, you've just barely begun..."
Loneliness in the corner of crowded rooms
And mastering the art of faking it
The constant battlefield of head and heart
Stubbornness, creativity, and brilliance
"Wait. Just a little longer, please..."
Laughter and giggles and pillows in-between
Staying up all night just to walk hand-in-hand
Finally finding a shoulder to cry on, unashamed
Frustration, sadness, desperation and disbelief
"Stop. Don't you dare go yet."
Every word I've ever written in my mind
But failed to put on paper
Every conversation I never had
Every goal, every desire, every plan, and every dream
"It isn't time..."
These are the things I will take with me.
"Stay."
These are the things I will take with me.
The feel of early morning silence
Lids off of coffee before the first sip
The memory of shadows falling across her face
And the way her eyes paralyze me.
"Wait. Don't go yet..."
Roller coaster rides with my heart
Overt fascination with simplicity
The exact way music moves me
Golden eyes and smiles at strangers across a room
"No, no, not yet..."
Small-town innocence tangled up in big-city fantasies
Dreams and nightmares and memories
Random reminders of unwelcome breath on my face
Amazing solace in sunsets and changing leaves
"Stop. Please don't go yet..."
The moment each of them was born
Every joy. Every heartache. Every scar.
How it felt to kneel before her, heart in hand
And hating the unjustness of it all.
"No. You'll be missed..."
Comfort that I can only find in pain
A passionate desire to hold the hand of every person in need
Intensity and randomly misplaced emotions
Every rational and irrational thought I've ever had
"No, wait. Just a little longer..."
Serenity in lavender scented bubbles
Dancing with the lonely ones
Flashbacks and fear of failure
Procrastination mastered and perfected
"Don't you want to see what happens next?"
Flashes of anger and flailing words
Beautiful masks and forced strength
Clenched teeth hiding behind forced smiles
And disappearing acts.
"You can't quit now, you've just barely begun..."
Loneliness in the corner of crowded rooms
And mastering the art of faking it
The constant battlefield of head and heart
Stubbornness, creativity, and brilliance
"Wait. Just a little longer, please..."
Laughter and giggles and pillows in-between
Staying up all night just to walk hand-in-hand
Finally finding a shoulder to cry on, unashamed
Frustration, sadness, desperation and disbelief
"Stop. Don't you dare go yet."
Every word I've ever written in my mind
But failed to put on paper
Every conversation I never had
Every goal, every desire, every plan, and every dream
"It isn't time..."
These are the things I will take with me.
"Stay."
These are the things I will take with me.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Back to normal
I'm glad to have gotten the news I wanted from the presidential election. On Tuesday night at 7 PM when the polls closed I went and took down my signs and put them away. There wasn't much doubt at that point who would be winning and I just think it's rude to rub salt in the wounds of the folks who didn't win. I've certainly supported a host of candidates that lost over the years and I believed a lot in some of them. The defeat was crushing at times and I never really liked listening to the winners crow. It seemed like having won should simply be enough. So I didn't wear my button to work, just my old Kerry/Edwards knit cap because it keeps my head warm and the guys all laugh at me and say, "did you know they lost", and it's just fun at this point.
SO now I'm back to winterizing the houses (-2 the other night) and workin on my new (old 97) car, and throwing pots and going to meetings and attending as well as possible to the people I love in my life.. I never think I do that well enough but they aren't running away so it must be at least the minimum necessary.
Laura's birthday on the 5th went well. I got her a big old ball winder for her yarn and some trinkets from the local store that carries stuff she likes. Crystal gave her fiber and stuff, my mom sent a card, and I got a cheesy little cake from the supermarket that I decorated to go with the pistachio/almond ice cream she likes. It was good. Mostly she was happy to get a new president. The rest was extra I think.
Laura's sis and niece came down to visit for this weekend and that's always good. So we've had lots of visiting and eating. It's good.
I'm trying to come up with Christmas gifts because I like giving people stuff and it's a good excuse. :) I'm building Laura something, already got her sis something, know what I'm getting Crys and that doesn't leave much else that I have to find. :) It's good.
The rest of today is going to be clay. I got a bunch of bowls to make for a fundraiser we're working on for our local arts group. I got about 15 or 20 made and 8 to trim and that means I only have to make about 30, I think I can get that today if it goes well. I'll have to take pics of our colanders we made that are about ready to fire, I love them. We have 10 ready to get glazed and fired, and folks seem to like them.
It's winter. It's winter here in our little chilly high mountain valley anyhow. I'll work on the gallery through the winter and maybe finish it up next year. I want to move on to other things. And I want a year that is restful. I'm getting tired.
It's all good. (And I mean that not in the usual way that means nothing is good, I really do mean that it's ALL good right now)
SO now I'm back to winterizing the houses (-2 the other night) and workin on my new (old 97) car, and throwing pots and going to meetings and attending as well as possible to the people I love in my life.. I never think I do that well enough but they aren't running away so it must be at least the minimum necessary.
Laura's birthday on the 5th went well. I got her a big old ball winder for her yarn and some trinkets from the local store that carries stuff she likes. Crystal gave her fiber and stuff, my mom sent a card, and I got a cheesy little cake from the supermarket that I decorated to go with the pistachio/almond ice cream she likes. It was good. Mostly she was happy to get a new president. The rest was extra I think.
Laura's sis and niece came down to visit for this weekend and that's always good. So we've had lots of visiting and eating. It's good.
I'm trying to come up with Christmas gifts because I like giving people stuff and it's a good excuse. :) I'm building Laura something, already got her sis something, know what I'm getting Crys and that doesn't leave much else that I have to find. :) It's good.
The rest of today is going to be clay. I got a bunch of bowls to make for a fundraiser we're working on for our local arts group. I got about 15 or 20 made and 8 to trim and that means I only have to make about 30, I think I can get that today if it goes well. I'll have to take pics of our colanders we made that are about ready to fire, I love them. We have 10 ready to get glazed and fired, and folks seem to like them.
It's winter. It's winter here in our little chilly high mountain valley anyhow. I'll work on the gallery through the winter and maybe finish it up next year. I want to move on to other things. And I want a year that is restful. I'm getting tired.
It's all good. (And I mean that not in the usual way that means nothing is good, I really do mean that it's ALL good right now)
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Falling leaves....breaking ground
The pain my head and heart used to feel is gone. The disbelief in my true reality is now erased. Left behind is a shell of what dreams in life can lead you to. In a hope for a brighter tomorrow you also chance a darker today. I am angry about life. I feel so many of my choices are taken from me. I fight to breathe. This is a choice I did not make. My parents knew nothing of the effects smoking would have on their 7 children. One escaped the effects and one has gone on to “greener” pastures. I am amazed that of us all, only one ever kept the nasty habit. The one who has escaped spent years also smoking but she is a crazy Christian. She is the one who will look you in the face and tell you, you are going to hell. She is the bold and outrageous Christian, people fear. She is my sister but we have so little in common. I fail in her views of life and being. I am fine with that. The first few years I felt guilt. Those days are gone for good. I quit feeling guilt when I started to feel like I could take a literal breath.
My relationships with my family are changing. My one sister, who used to be angry with me, now is again sending me 30 emails a day. All forwards and all deleted. I liked her silence. I am trying to be myself and more who I want to be. I love my job but think maybe, just maybe, I could find another with great insurance that will actually meet my our needs. I need far more money than I get. Every year I get more money and I have seen kids without supervision. I don’t want that for my kids. I want to be there and lead them in the way they should go. I also am very tired most days. I can’t get enough air. I fear the day comes when my lungs will be like the basketball my mother ended up with. I see some of the same struggles she went through but she was the one who pulled the poisonous gas into her lungs by choice. I did not. I am grateful my children have good lungs. Although their dad does smoke, he rarely did so in their presence and even for their formative years he was smoke free. I feel betrayed by my own body. I feel the anger of my circumstances and know so much of my life is not a direct choice by myself. In some screwed up way I take responsibility for choosing the wrong man. I can say he was the wrong man because he was. Until my kids are grown and gone he will be my bitterness rising. I can’t just get past all he has done and continues to do. His daughter wrote him a love letter at 8. He ignored it. She asked for a father. She even admitted she didn’t want to visit, she had hopes he would see the light. He has ignored her plea. I am sure he has seen this email. I am sure he will claim he hasn’t. I know his arrogance will not allow him to not look at his email. At least he has been paying his meager support.
I am again at the cross road where I look at whether I need to find a job that would pay more money. I know I give up the free medical insurance and that is critical with numerous meds so I can achieve breathing. In the exchange I give up supervision of my kids. My schedule would not work around their school schedule. They would be left to fend for themselves many times. I know what can happen to kids who raise themselves. The last time I left my kids to work, my son’s choices were not ideal and even in some cases very dangerous. Regardless of how mature kids are, they are still just kids and can’t begin to foresee all the things maturity affords you.
I realize I am good at my job. I see kids do better and achieving and know I make a difference. Our groups are being re-evaluated. Some of my kids have graduated into regular classrooms. Some are on the border. I am also gaining some real problem kids but it is because for some reason I can reach them. I don’t like working with difficult kids and feel frustrated when they are unreachable. I am requested, GEE THANKS. I do have a rapport with kids and even those that aren’t able to learn. I really think the school is better with my presence. I know that sounds arrogant but I also know my abilities and they are very lucky. This is my place to shine. This is where I feel like I walk this earth with purpose.
My relationships with my family are changing. My one sister, who used to be angry with me, now is again sending me 30 emails a day. All forwards and all deleted. I liked her silence. I am trying to be myself and more who I want to be. I love my job but think maybe, just maybe, I could find another with great insurance that will actually meet my our needs. I need far more money than I get. Every year I get more money and I have seen kids without supervision. I don’t want that for my kids. I want to be there and lead them in the way they should go. I also am very tired most days. I can’t get enough air. I fear the day comes when my lungs will be like the basketball my mother ended up with. I see some of the same struggles she went through but she was the one who pulled the poisonous gas into her lungs by choice. I did not. I am grateful my children have good lungs. Although their dad does smoke, he rarely did so in their presence and even for their formative years he was smoke free. I feel betrayed by my own body. I feel the anger of my circumstances and know so much of my life is not a direct choice by myself. In some screwed up way I take responsibility for choosing the wrong man. I can say he was the wrong man because he was. Until my kids are grown and gone he will be my bitterness rising. I can’t just get past all he has done and continues to do. His daughter wrote him a love letter at 8. He ignored it. She asked for a father. She even admitted she didn’t want to visit, she had hopes he would see the light. He has ignored her plea. I am sure he has seen this email. I am sure he will claim he hasn’t. I know his arrogance will not allow him to not look at his email. At least he has been paying his meager support.
I am again at the cross road where I look at whether I need to find a job that would pay more money. I know I give up the free medical insurance and that is critical with numerous meds so I can achieve breathing. In the exchange I give up supervision of my kids. My schedule would not work around their school schedule. They would be left to fend for themselves many times. I know what can happen to kids who raise themselves. The last time I left my kids to work, my son’s choices were not ideal and even in some cases very dangerous. Regardless of how mature kids are, they are still just kids and can’t begin to foresee all the things maturity affords you.
I realize I am good at my job. I see kids do better and achieving and know I make a difference. Our groups are being re-evaluated. Some of my kids have graduated into regular classrooms. Some are on the border. I am also gaining some real problem kids but it is because for some reason I can reach them. I don’t like working with difficult kids and feel frustrated when they are unreachable. I am requested, GEE THANKS. I do have a rapport with kids and even those that aren’t able to learn. I really think the school is better with my presence. I know that sounds arrogant but I also know my abilities and they are very lucky. This is my place to shine. This is where I feel like I walk this earth with purpose.
Friday, November 7, 2008
happy birthday....
To me!! I'm 34 today. Wow. I so don't act my age lol.
I suspect this will be a very good year. Maybe the best one yet. ;)
I suspect this will be a very good year. Maybe the best one yet. ;)
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Obamanation
It seems almost unbelievable that we are witnessing such a huge change in history at this moment. My life these past few years have been full of unforgettable events, and this time is definitely one. For once I really truly am, proud to be an American.
We have levelled out, struggled and fought until life gave us what we wanted. Now in a cute downtown apartment that I pay for with ease, I can kick off my shoes and enjoy the things I work so hard to attain.
I feel I have suffered enough down in California that now it is time to have some fun.
The most fun I've had still has to be at Barter Fair. Dropping acid during the day, going through adventures like forcing myself into an unbelievably disgusting porter potty, to meeting flamboyant boys dressed up in nurse outfits.
At one point the acid took me away. The things I saw were distorted by my thoughts, my perception changed, so my reality changed with it.
I saw crowds of people walking everywhere, broken down cars, dust all around me. Revalations came slamming through my head like they were there all the time. This dust bowl, on this indian reservation, is where the rest of society puts us "undesirables". Government planes would fly overhead to monitor us periodically, as if they were putting us all in one place to starve us out. At one point I felt that God was the only answer, it was only me and him in this forsaken world, and that death was the only way to him. I still was not having a bad time, simply a very intense experience.
I wanted to leave, go back to California and away from this place. Angel was trying to bring me back to the campsite, and back to reality. I looked at her and for a moment I didn't know who she was. She had changed. I was deeply disturbed, but I noticed that my heart still ached for her as strongly as I did sober. I wanted to bring her with me. I started to feel confused, after hours of wandering around the thousands of campsites looking for a way out. Angel was frightened that I had been lost to the acid forever, and she started to cry. My heart started to hurt as I could see I was hurting her somehow.
"Teri please don't be like this, I love you please come back to me"
I immediately started to sober up. I replied that I loved her too, and even though I didn't know what was going on, I realized I just have to trust her. She brought me back to the campsite after hours of struggling, where she put me in a tent and made me stay there until I came down some. I vomited in the tent, by then I had no clue who I was, what was happening, and was baffled by recognizing all of my belongings.
After spending a few minutes in my makeshift panic room, I was ok. I came out, smoked a cigarrette, and waited for the sun to go down with the rest of the group. That night I took more, but it didn't take much effect. I still enjoyed looking at all the lasers, listening to the drums and watching fireworks. The night sky sparkled and danced, in only a way acid can make it come alive. I watched Angel dance with her bellydancing skirt with all the drums dancing with her, she was beautiful. That day was her test so to speak, her following me around for hours fruitlessly trying to get me to come back. She did not give up though, anyone else would have.
I am still baffled as to why God gave me a girl to love, and what he has planned for me. Why was marriage banned for us in the name of God when It feels like God is the one who put us together?
I have so many questions to ask...
peace
We have levelled out, struggled and fought until life gave us what we wanted. Now in a cute downtown apartment that I pay for with ease, I can kick off my shoes and enjoy the things I work so hard to attain.
I feel I have suffered enough down in California that now it is time to have some fun.
The most fun I've had still has to be at Barter Fair. Dropping acid during the day, going through adventures like forcing myself into an unbelievably disgusting porter potty, to meeting flamboyant boys dressed up in nurse outfits.
At one point the acid took me away. The things I saw were distorted by my thoughts, my perception changed, so my reality changed with it.
I saw crowds of people walking everywhere, broken down cars, dust all around me. Revalations came slamming through my head like they were there all the time. This dust bowl, on this indian reservation, is where the rest of society puts us "undesirables". Government planes would fly overhead to monitor us periodically, as if they were putting us all in one place to starve us out. At one point I felt that God was the only answer, it was only me and him in this forsaken world, and that death was the only way to him. I still was not having a bad time, simply a very intense experience.
I wanted to leave, go back to California and away from this place. Angel was trying to bring me back to the campsite, and back to reality. I looked at her and for a moment I didn't know who she was. She had changed. I was deeply disturbed, but I noticed that my heart still ached for her as strongly as I did sober. I wanted to bring her with me. I started to feel confused, after hours of wandering around the thousands of campsites looking for a way out. Angel was frightened that I had been lost to the acid forever, and she started to cry. My heart started to hurt as I could see I was hurting her somehow.
"Teri please don't be like this, I love you please come back to me"
I immediately started to sober up. I replied that I loved her too, and even though I didn't know what was going on, I realized I just have to trust her. She brought me back to the campsite after hours of struggling, where she put me in a tent and made me stay there until I came down some. I vomited in the tent, by then I had no clue who I was, what was happening, and was baffled by recognizing all of my belongings.
After spending a few minutes in my makeshift panic room, I was ok. I came out, smoked a cigarrette, and waited for the sun to go down with the rest of the group. That night I took more, but it didn't take much effect. I still enjoyed looking at all the lasers, listening to the drums and watching fireworks. The night sky sparkled and danced, in only a way acid can make it come alive. I watched Angel dance with her bellydancing skirt with all the drums dancing with her, she was beautiful. That day was her test so to speak, her following me around for hours fruitlessly trying to get me to come back. She did not give up though, anyone else would have.
I am still baffled as to why God gave me a girl to love, and what he has planned for me. Why was marriage banned for us in the name of God when It feels like God is the one who put us together?
I have so many questions to ask...
peace
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
renewed
For 8 years I walked around feeling semi-American just because I live and work here and it was a default kind of deal.
Last night I waved a flag proudly among thousands of kindred souls who flooded the streets of Seattle, cheering and singing and dancing and hugging each other. Random strangers linked by a renewed sense of hope and possibility.
I actually cried. Held onto one of the girls who holds tightly to my heart, crumpled up, and cried.
So very happy.
There were a few disappointments, prop 8 being one of them. But, I feel more like I can breathe now.
In an America that has, perhaps, begun to open her eyes, stretch out her arms in a desperate yawn, and is waking up, at last.
Last night I waved a flag proudly among thousands of kindred souls who flooded the streets of Seattle, cheering and singing and dancing and hugging each other. Random strangers linked by a renewed sense of hope and possibility.
I actually cried. Held onto one of the girls who holds tightly to my heart, crumpled up, and cried.
So very happy.
There were a few disappointments, prop 8 being one of them. But, I feel more like I can breathe now.
In an America that has, perhaps, begun to open her eyes, stretch out her arms in a desperate yawn, and is waking up, at last.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Finally
I'm 48 years old. I liked Bill Clinton as a president, but this is the first person I've voted for as president that I believed in since Jimmy Carter.
I have a president again.
I have a president again.
i voted
sitting in the freezing cold
on a long red bench
at the station with the fire trucks
i took my time
filling in the circle
next to barack obama's name
savoring the possibilities
feeling relief touch me
and loving a man
who will change the world.
on a long red bench
at the station with the fire trucks
i took my time
filling in the circle
next to barack obama's name
savoring the possibilities
feeling relief touch me
and loving a man
who will change the world.
Our first review!
Protzman, James. Jesus Swept. Kitsune. Dec. 2008. c.277p. ISBN 978-0-9792700-7-9. pap. $12. CF
Debut novelist Protzman offers a refreshingly different tale about a man who calls himself Jesus and leads a group of men who have taken the apostles' names as they sweep parking lots and anything else they can throughout the South. Jesus, or "Gary Gray," was abandoned as a baby at a church, where he was adopted by a troubled couple. Gary's mother made brooms as a craft, and after she and her husband die in a trailer fire, Gary inherits the brooms.
Fresh prose and an offbeat style make this an appealing tale, although it is not traditional CBA fiction. Jesus Swept includes some rough language that may offend more conservative readers, but it might appeal to more adventurous patrons who enjoyed last year's Saving Erasmus by Steven Cleaver. Recommended for public libraries.
Debut novelist Protzman offers a refreshingly different tale about a man who calls himself Jesus and leads a group of men who have taken the apostles' names as they sweep parking lots and anything else they can throughout the South. Jesus, or "Gary Gray," was abandoned as a baby at a church, where he was adopted by a troubled couple. Gary's mother made brooms as a craft, and after she and her husband die in a trailer fire, Gary inherits the brooms.
Fresh prose and an offbeat style make this an appealing tale, although it is not traditional CBA fiction. Jesus Swept includes some rough language that may offend more conservative readers, but it might appeal to more adventurous patrons who enjoyed last year's Saving Erasmus by Steven Cleaver. Recommended for public libraries.
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Happy Halloween
This is what Crystal and I have been up to the last few days. We're participating in the "No Mercy General Hospital". Our friend Mike, pictured as the doc here, put it all together and it was a pretty darned good success last night. Laura helped by making us some gelatin brains and hearts to put in jars for fun and she made a fun garland of knives and scissors and cleavers and such. There will be a bunch more tonight and then we'll clean it up tomorrow.
In other news I'm working on my new ride that I picked up in Tucson. So far I need a new CV joint on the left side and new springs for the front. One of the old owners cut the springs down to look "cool" but I like a little more air between me and the ground. :)
I'm bisque firing some pots today, started it up to warm the garage while I worked on the car but now I have to wait for some more parts before I get into that. My buddy at work, Larry the mechanic, says he can find me springs and talk me through wrenching the CV joint out and back in. It's good to have friends.
Can't wait for the election to be over, probably like most of the rest of you. I think I don't so much like being in a battleground state. Blah.
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