Wednesday, September 07, 2005
it is entirely possible
That there will be a new blog, befitting the new beginning any minute now.
Please email me at the link at the side if you are interested in knowing the URL.
Please email me at the link at the side if you are interested in knowing the URL.
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
Hotspur
Still miss you buddy ruff. I still love you as much as ever and am so grateful for what you gave to me. You were a great
friend and if there are such things as guardian angel cats, I'm glad you're mine.
Six years seems like forever and not so long at all.
friend and if there are such things as guardian angel cats, I'm glad you're mine.
Six years seems like forever and not so long at all.
Thursday, March 24, 2005
Poor Mrs. Schiavo used as a toy by the religious right and the neocons
I'm so angry at the hypocrisy of the shrub and his brother that I could scream. Why is it OK for a baby to die basically at the hands of a bill he signed (that allows doctors to stop treatment even if it is against the express wishes of the family because of MONEY!!!) but he'll sign a special order to keep poor, pathetic Terri Schiavo alive against her HUSBAND'S wishes. I thought Republicans were for less governement and state's rights? What the hell are they doing intervening in something the states have already decided? What the hell are they doing getting in the middle of a marriage?
What about the kids that don't have enough to eat? What about underfunded schools? What about health care for everyone? What about some more jobs? Why is so much money and time and effort going toward this situation? I'm just sickened for everyone concerned. This isn't the business of the federal government.
“Inappropriate treatment” was defined under the 1999 Texas law as medical treatment that the patient can't afford. Ok, I'm overstating the case--but if that, while not explicit, is implicit. Who can find another medical facility ready to take on a difficult, possibly hopeless case? Those with money or insurance. Who can't? medicaid patients. Or those with out insurance. Like the six month old that had his feeding tube removed this week. Why didn't they keep a fresh new life, full of possiblity alive instead of wishing for a reversal in a brain damaged 40 year old woman--who made herself sick?
When our cats and dogs are suffering, we let them go peacefully. Why don't we have the same respect for human beings?
Citations are the DailyKos and thinkprogress.org.
And could somebody PLEASE please please find some balls and give them to a reporter and get him or her to expose Tom Delay for the grandstanding slimy unethical creep that he is.
GOD..I haven't been this angry about politics since Reagan.
What about the kids that don't have enough to eat? What about underfunded schools? What about health care for everyone? What about some more jobs? Why is so much money and time and effort going toward this situation? I'm just sickened for everyone concerned. This isn't the business of the federal government.
“Inappropriate treatment” was defined under the 1999 Texas law as medical treatment that the patient can't afford. Ok, I'm overstating the case--but if that, while not explicit, is implicit. Who can find another medical facility ready to take on a difficult, possibly hopeless case? Those with money or insurance. Who can't? medicaid patients. Or those with out insurance. Like the six month old that had his feeding tube removed this week. Why didn't they keep a fresh new life, full of possiblity alive instead of wishing for a reversal in a brain damaged 40 year old woman--who made herself sick?
When our cats and dogs are suffering, we let them go peacefully. Why don't we have the same respect for human beings?
Citations are the DailyKos and thinkprogress.org.
And could somebody PLEASE please please find some balls and give them to a reporter and get him or her to expose Tom Delay for the grandstanding slimy unethical creep that he is.
GOD..I haven't been this angry about politics since Reagan.
Sunday, March 20, 2005
If you don't understand
Then you aren't there yet. But you wil be. Oh yes, you will.
From Listening to Midlife by Mark Gerzon
"In the second half of life, our old compasses no longer work. The magnetic fields alter. The new compass that we need cannot be held in our hand, only in our heart. We read it not with our minds alone, but with our soul.
Now we yearn fo rwholeness. We yearn to remember the parts of ourselves that we have forgotten, to nourish those we have starved, to express those we have silenced, and to bring into the light those we have cast into the shadows."
"In this phase of life--between thirty-five and fifty--a significant change in the human psyche is in preperation,"concluded Carl Jung, based on years of clinical research and reflection. "at first it is not a conscious and striking change...Often it is something like a slow change in a person's character, in another case certain traits may come to light which had disappeared in childhood; or again, inclinations and interests begin to weaken and others arise to take their places."
"As we age, we human beings yearn for wholeness. We yearn for the parts of ourselves that have been in the dark to find sunlight and those that were sunburned to find shade. We yearn for the parts that have been underdeveloped to grow and those that were overdeveloped to be pruned. We yearn for the parts that have been silent to speak and those that were noisy to be still. We yearn for the parts that have been alone to find companionship and those that have been overcrowded to find solitude. We yearn to live our unlived lives."
>I listened to music but didn't play it anymore. I used the short hand of subculture to tell me who I should befriend, instead of discovering on my own, because it felt safer. I lost passion and the desire to do good things for community and instead tried to drown or shout down the demons of the past. I turned a deaf ear to the still soft voice inside that was quietly telling me that I wasn't that person anymore. I privaleged a shallow sense of belonging instead of doing the harder work of really building strong relationships. Not entirely, but too often. I had stopped being around children
"Since none of unconsciously wants to be lost, we begin the quest by denying it. The journey therefore takes us by surprise. "midlife befalls us," writes Murray Stein, "We don't ask for it." This is why, in so many cases, we try to stop it from beginning. We pretend it hasn't started, even when it clearly has. We deny that the metamorphosis of adulthood has begun. And we become confused about where, and who, we are."
"It begins with our pulling against the future and clinging to the past. It begins without our unconsciously saying "NO not yet!" to what is happening in side us."
"Maureen Murdock, speaking of women, calls it 'the descent to the goddess," when a woman "meets the dark mother within and reclaims the discarded parts of herself."
"The process is confusing because at least two voices inside us are now claiming to be the I: the old persona, the identity formed in the first half of our lives that is determined to disown these new elements in our psyches; and the awakening shadow, asking--sometimes demanding--to be let in. As the crack widens between who we are and who we are perceived to be, it can be more than confusing. It can be tottally disorienting."
"Now suddenly the structure of our lives does not fit us, but we don't know why.Bargains we made, both professional and personal, may suddenly seem unfair. Relationships we chose may suddenly seem unfullfilling. Signs of agin in our faces suddenly seem prominent. A car, home or community that once brought pleasure may now seem utterly inadequate. A life-style that seemed satisfying, or at least bearable, now grates on our nerves and becomes increasingly intolerable. <--italics mine
In January 2001 I really couldn't handle corporate IT anymore. Just couldn't play the game. Began to hate what I'd been so good at. That was when I first really started feeling uncomfortable in this subculture I've been a part of.
And a metaphor I've used often these last two years:
"just as teenagers burst the seams of their old clothes, we are bursting at the seams of our old identities. Who we were and how we lived may now feel like prisons to us. "we feel (usually unconsciously) a desperate need to escape."
"But nothing can hide the stench of a dying body or a dying self. If we do not dare to let go and bury the dead, we will be stuck in confusion and mourning. The ghost of the first half of our life will haunt us."
And the last couple of years the stench has been pretty high. Sometimes I'm angry that I didn't figure this out sooner. Like while I was pregnant. And I try to remember that the stench didn't pollute the entirely of the last three years (actually about 2, since October '04 or a bit before things have been much better in terms of being true). There were good things. There were things I'm proud of. Experiences I needed to have.
But I wish I could speed up this process some. But wait--the end point is the grave, so maybe I should just slow down and experience this. I haven't been waking up in the mornings in discomfort, dread or shame for a number of months now. I wake up happy and interested. I wake up liking myself.
I'm not who you think I am. I'm not who I thought I was. This is getting really interesting. This is worthwhile.
From Listening to Midlife by Mark Gerzon
"In the second half of life, our old compasses no longer work. The magnetic fields alter. The new compass that we need cannot be held in our hand, only in our heart. We read it not with our minds alone, but with our soul.
Now we yearn fo rwholeness. We yearn to remember the parts of ourselves that we have forgotten, to nourish those we have starved, to express those we have silenced, and to bring into the light those we have cast into the shadows."
"In this phase of life--between thirty-five and fifty--a significant change in the human psyche is in preperation,"concluded Carl Jung, based on years of clinical research and reflection. "at first it is not a conscious and striking change...Often it is something like a slow change in a person's character, in another case certain traits may come to light which had disappeared in childhood; or again, inclinations and interests begin to weaken and others arise to take their places."
"As we age, we human beings yearn for wholeness. We yearn for the parts of ourselves that have been in the dark to find sunlight and those that were sunburned to find shade. We yearn for the parts that have been underdeveloped to grow and those that were overdeveloped to be pruned. We yearn for the parts that have been silent to speak and those that were noisy to be still. We yearn for the parts that have been alone to find companionship and those that have been overcrowded to find solitude. We yearn to live our unlived lives."
>I listened to music but didn't play it anymore. I used the short hand of subculture to tell me who I should befriend, instead of discovering on my own, because it felt safer. I lost passion and the desire to do good things for community and instead tried to drown or shout down the demons of the past. I turned a deaf ear to the still soft voice inside that was quietly telling me that I wasn't that person anymore. I privaleged a shallow sense of belonging instead of doing the harder work of really building strong relationships. Not entirely, but too often. I had stopped being around children
"Since none of unconsciously wants to be lost, we begin the quest by denying it. The journey therefore takes us by surprise. "midlife befalls us," writes Murray Stein, "We don't ask for it." This is why, in so many cases, we try to stop it from beginning. We pretend it hasn't started, even when it clearly has. We deny that the metamorphosis of adulthood has begun. And we become confused about where, and who, we are."
"It begins with our pulling against the future and clinging to the past. It begins without our unconsciously saying "NO not yet!" to what is happening in side us."
"Maureen Murdock, speaking of women, calls it 'the descent to the goddess," when a woman "meets the dark mother within and reclaims the discarded parts of herself."
"The process is confusing because at least two voices inside us are now claiming to be the I: the old persona, the identity formed in the first half of our lives that is determined to disown these new elements in our psyches; and the awakening shadow, asking--sometimes demanding--to be let in. As the crack widens between who we are and who we are perceived to be, it can be more than confusing. It can be tottally disorienting."
"Now suddenly the structure of our lives does not fit us, but we don't know why.Bargains we made, both professional and personal, may suddenly seem unfair. Relationships we chose may suddenly seem unfullfilling. Signs of agin in our faces suddenly seem prominent. A car, home or community that once brought pleasure may now seem utterly inadequate. A life-style that seemed satisfying, or at least bearable, now grates on our nerves and becomes increasingly intolerable. <--italics mine
In January 2001 I really couldn't handle corporate IT anymore. Just couldn't play the game. Began to hate what I'd been so good at. That was when I first really started feeling uncomfortable in this subculture I've been a part of.
And a metaphor I've used often these last two years:
"just as teenagers burst the seams of their old clothes, we are bursting at the seams of our old identities. Who we were and how we lived may now feel like prisons to us. "we feel (usually unconsciously) a desperate need to escape."
"But nothing can hide the stench of a dying body or a dying self. If we do not dare to let go and bury the dead, we will be stuck in confusion and mourning. The ghost of the first half of our life will haunt us."
And the last couple of years the stench has been pretty high. Sometimes I'm angry that I didn't figure this out sooner. Like while I was pregnant. And I try to remember that the stench didn't pollute the entirely of the last three years (actually about 2, since October '04 or a bit before things have been much better in terms of being true). There were good things. There were things I'm proud of. Experiences I needed to have.
But I wish I could speed up this process some. But wait--the end point is the grave, so maybe I should just slow down and experience this. I haven't been waking up in the mornings in discomfort, dread or shame for a number of months now. I wake up happy and interested. I wake up liking myself.
I'm not who you think I am. I'm not who I thought I was. This is getting really interesting. This is worthwhile.
Friday, March 18, 2005
Dr. Teresa Whitehurst - "Don�t Let the Car Fool You, My Real Treasure is in Heaven": Bushianity Makes a Mockery of Christ
Dr. Teresa Whitehurst - "Don't Let the Car Fool You, My Real Treasure is in Heaven": Bushianity Makes a Mockery of Christ
"Of course, imposing the Bible on a diverse population is what the Bushians do best -- but not the whole Bible, as Mr. Sheer notes. Not only are inconvenient verses in the Old Testament ignored by rightwing politicians, but most of Jesus’ teachings are, as well. For the Bush administration, Christ’s most deplorable teachings are those that advocate nonviolence, love of one’s enemy, social justice, the refusal to store up riches on earth, praying privately without wearing one’s piety on one’s sleeve, and choosing instead to share with the needy and vulnerable."
So well written. I'll be spending more time reading her writings.
"Of course, imposing the Bible on a diverse population is what the Bushians do best -- but not the whole Bible, as Mr. Sheer notes. Not only are inconvenient verses in the Old Testament ignored by rightwing politicians, but most of Jesus’ teachings are, as well. For the Bush administration, Christ’s most deplorable teachings are those that advocate nonviolence, love of one’s enemy, social justice, the refusal to store up riches on earth, praying privately without wearing one’s piety on one’s sleeve, and choosing instead to share with the needy and vulnerable."
So well written. I'll be spending more time reading her writings.
Tuesday, March 15, 2005
It's alright they know me here
I'm not sure what's up, but I just can't seem to write in this blog. Or on LJ or in the Bean's. I have some theories--mostly that I am censoring before I write because I have the strong feeling that anything less than perfect in our corner would be the cause for much rejoicing in another corner. Which is wierd. But then,that feeling has been persistant for almost two years for both of us.
It's really sad to see how friendships, when they come to an end, turn often to such animosity.I'd rather save what good memories are left, though it can be very hard not to revisit the relationship and read it through the now broken lens. But every time my brain goes that way I pull it back and remind myself that hey--you can't call a medieval woman a feminist, no matter how hard she bucked the system (because that would be basically an anachronism--feminists didn't *really* exist until the 70s--before that there were 'exceptional women.')So there's no sense in reading the past with all the labels of the present.
So I've been writing in my paper journal and working on some stories. And talking with James about Fayetteville. And spending as much time as I can at the rescue farm. Sadly we lost Otis, the so skinny orange boyo. Deeply sweet and horribly sick and abused. He was a loving little guy. I'd planned to bring a towel over so he could sit on my lap longer this coming week (he couldn't control his bowels and pooped on me the last time and I didn't want to leave, but had to get cleaned up). At least he had some good, cared for time at the Farm. I hope he got to sleep on one of the new comfy pillows this nice lady on Freecycle made for them (I talked about the wonderful things they do there and she had some time and materials so she made pillows and James and I got them to the kitties). I really like going to the Farm.
We had Jola and Kurt over for dinner. And I experienced true irony. When we have folks over I go nuts cleaning the house. Strive for perfection and all that. I like to clean the house anyway so it stays pretty clean most of the time. Even with a toddler, amazingly probably because I'm a bit anal. I use the impetus of visitors to do some of those weird jobs like washing the doors or making sure the floorboards are clean. Extra bits to go with the regular mopping/vacuuming/putting away/arranging stuff I do all the time. So what happens? I leave a toilet brush in the toilet bowl. Quelle horreur! Yep, just forgot about it. Irony.
I also do this really weird thing that makes no sense whatsoever--I try new food on dinner party nights. Not always, but often enough that James remarked on it. "Why not do something you are really sure of?" he asked oh so logically.
I thought about that. First I like the challange. It makes it a bit more fun to up the ante. That frisson of fear that all will collapse and taste like burnt dog. Some of it is, that the stuff I make all the time--stews, veggie dishes, pork chops etc don't seem special enough. Also- we eat some weird shit in our house (at my behest--I've introduced barley and wheat germ and quinoa etc etc in the quest for healthy and interesting food)that isn't to most folks liking. But still, it IS weird to cook something for the first time for guests. But at least I know next time that 1) the tarragon chicken would have tasted a bit better if brined. 2) Some of the roasted veggies were out
of season 3) Make sure to get that chia herb garden(no, not really, but something like it) 4) Get serving dishes and a bigger roasting pan for the vegetables. But, All in all not bad. And I tried the warm fudge cake a few days later, made some tweaks and it's even better now.
And while we hadn't seen each other in a number of months it was very pleasant. Kurt is a nice energy and I liked Jola from the moment I met her. The conversation was good, the evening low key and nice. The Bean LOVED Jola's hair and couldn't stop talking about it and "big Mr. Kurt." Emily was in performance mode. She picked out her own clothes: a striped taffeta party dress my mom sent and blue/silver/maroon stripey tights. Then she said "It's a party, it's bean's party for five friends." Which was incredibly sweet. She was really all about being the center of attention, which I guess is what a lot of almost three year olds are like. She wanted to be in the thick of things--as always. She's like that at school too--no timid flower she! Her personality just amazes me. She's so different from James and me, who rather loathe the limelight and are somewhat shy--that's how you know these wee folk are here on their own mission with their own distinct selves right from the beginning.
The dulcimer lessons continue. I have to practice very slowly and carefully and use the same hammering patterns each time. I hadn't been doing that and kept speeding up too, which ultimately, should I ever be able to play with others, would be a bad thing. This is going to be a long process, but that's what I was hoping. I just wish I could play "over the waterfall" already--but not for at least another year or 12 .
A sad thing is that Bartleby had an accident and lost his tail tip. It was quite traumatic for all of us. The same thing happened to Hotspur, who lost his in a refridgerator motor accident. We took him to see Dr. Deb, who snipped the tip off and gave us lavender oil. He immediately improved. I feel so bad for my boyo.
There's more, but Princess Chaoticka has awakened and we must work that new puzzle.
It's really sad to see how friendships, when they come to an end, turn often to such animosity.I'd rather save what good memories are left, though it can be very hard not to revisit the relationship and read it through the now broken lens. But every time my brain goes that way I pull it back and remind myself that hey--you can't call a medieval woman a feminist, no matter how hard she bucked the system (because that would be basically an anachronism--feminists didn't *really* exist until the 70s--before that there were 'exceptional women.')So there's no sense in reading the past with all the labels of the present.
So I've been writing in my paper journal and working on some stories. And talking with James about Fayetteville. And spending as much time as I can at the rescue farm. Sadly we lost Otis, the so skinny orange boyo. Deeply sweet and horribly sick and abused. He was a loving little guy. I'd planned to bring a towel over so he could sit on my lap longer this coming week (he couldn't control his bowels and pooped on me the last time and I didn't want to leave, but had to get cleaned up). At least he had some good, cared for time at the Farm. I hope he got to sleep on one of the new comfy pillows this nice lady on Freecycle made for them (I talked about the wonderful things they do there and she had some time and materials so she made pillows and James and I got them to the kitties). I really like going to the Farm.
We had Jola and Kurt over for dinner. And I experienced true irony. When we have folks over I go nuts cleaning the house. Strive for perfection and all that. I like to clean the house anyway so it stays pretty clean most of the time. Even with a toddler, amazingly probably because I'm a bit anal. I use the impetus of visitors to do some of those weird jobs like washing the doors or making sure the floorboards are clean. Extra bits to go with the regular mopping/vacuuming/putting away/arranging stuff I do all the time. So what happens? I leave a toilet brush in the toilet bowl. Quelle horreur! Yep, just forgot about it. Irony.
I also do this really weird thing that makes no sense whatsoever--I try new food on dinner party nights. Not always, but often enough that James remarked on it. "Why not do something you are really sure of?" he asked oh so logically.
I thought about that. First I like the challange. It makes it a bit more fun to up the ante. That frisson of fear that all will collapse and taste like burnt dog. Some of it is, that the stuff I make all the time--stews, veggie dishes, pork chops etc don't seem special enough. Also- we eat some weird shit in our house (at my behest--I've introduced barley and wheat germ and quinoa etc etc in the quest for healthy and interesting food)that isn't to most folks liking. But still, it IS weird to cook something for the first time for guests. But at least I know next time that 1) the tarragon chicken would have tasted a bit better if brined. 2) Some of the roasted veggies were out
of season 3) Make sure to get that chia herb garden(no, not really, but something like it) 4) Get serving dishes and a bigger roasting pan for the vegetables. But, All in all not bad. And I tried the warm fudge cake a few days later, made some tweaks and it's even better now.
And while we hadn't seen each other in a number of months it was very pleasant. Kurt is a nice energy and I liked Jola from the moment I met her. The conversation was good, the evening low key and nice. The Bean LOVED Jola's hair and couldn't stop talking about it and "big Mr. Kurt." Emily was in performance mode. She picked out her own clothes: a striped taffeta party dress my mom sent and blue/silver/maroon stripey tights. Then she said "It's a party, it's bean's party for five friends." Which was incredibly sweet. She was really all about being the center of attention, which I guess is what a lot of almost three year olds are like. She wanted to be in the thick of things--as always. She's like that at school too--no timid flower she! Her personality just amazes me. She's so different from James and me, who rather loathe the limelight and are somewhat shy--that's how you know these wee folk are here on their own mission with their own distinct selves right from the beginning.
The dulcimer lessons continue. I have to practice very slowly and carefully and use the same hammering patterns each time. I hadn't been doing that and kept speeding up too, which ultimately, should I ever be able to play with others, would be a bad thing. This is going to be a long process, but that's what I was hoping. I just wish I could play "over the waterfall" already--but not for at least another year or 12 .
A sad thing is that Bartleby had an accident and lost his tail tip. It was quite traumatic for all of us. The same thing happened to Hotspur, who lost his in a refridgerator motor accident. We took him to see Dr. Deb, who snipped the tip off and gave us lavender oil. He immediately improved. I feel so bad for my boyo.
There's more, but Princess Chaoticka has awakened and we must work that new puzzle.
Saturday, March 05, 2005
romantic but no ghosts yet
Is it right for me to feel...nearly romatic about the possibility of moving back to Fayetteville. I suspect not. I know I am in the grips of nostalgia. Everything was new, intense, exciting..possible. Everything was possible.
I do like thinking of that feeling.
But I know that it was also painful, fucked up and horrific. God the ugliness was something. But isn't that what being a dumbass adolescent is about? Maybe I had a bit extra, what with my difficult family situation and screwed up romantic life--but
doesn't everyone just want to EXPLODE at 22? Kick the dirt of their little town off their pants and go into the big wide world. Don't you have to despise it to leave it, at least a bit?
And I'd like to belong again. I haven't since I left San Francisco. Nearly did for a bit, but when it came down to it, not really.Maybe I wanted to so badly I forced the issue, I don't know I"m still sorting that out. I'd like to have what I watched other 40 year olds have when I was 20. The easy friendships, the kids playing, the music in the garage. The sense of community.It's a bit of a road to build it here, though we are. Heck I'm the moderator of the Barrington Freecycle group but do we want to ....wait...to have what we want. And can we be sure we'll have even 80% of it.
I've always known what I wanted married with kids to look like should I ever do it. Well, here we are. Do we wait and try to build or jump and probably find it?
History or ?
I'm listening to Holly Beth and the Italians and remembering going to the pub with Laura. How much I looked up to her. Seeing Lisa sing. Hanging out with Mary's many animals. Eric's prodigiuous record collection.
And I'm thinking about how much I like them all now.
Can you ever go home again?
I do like thinking of that feeling.
But I know that it was also painful, fucked up and horrific. God the ugliness was something. But isn't that what being a dumbass adolescent is about? Maybe I had a bit extra, what with my difficult family situation and screwed up romantic life--but
doesn't everyone just want to EXPLODE at 22? Kick the dirt of their little town off their pants and go into the big wide world. Don't you have to despise it to leave it, at least a bit?
And I'd like to belong again. I haven't since I left San Francisco. Nearly did for a bit, but when it came down to it, not really.Maybe I wanted to so badly I forced the issue, I don't know I"m still sorting that out. I'd like to have what I watched other 40 year olds have when I was 20. The easy friendships, the kids playing, the music in the garage. The sense of community.It's a bit of a road to build it here, though we are. Heck I'm the moderator of the Barrington Freecycle group but do we want to ....wait...to have what we want. And can we be sure we'll have even 80% of it.
I've always known what I wanted married with kids to look like should I ever do it. Well, here we are. Do we wait and try to build or jump and probably find it?
History or ?
I'm listening to Holly Beth and the Italians and remembering going to the pub with Laura. How much I looked up to her. Seeing Lisa sing. Hanging out with Mary's many animals. Eric's prodigiuous record collection.
And I'm thinking about how much I like them all now.
Can you ever go home again?
