However, lesbians have yet to even come close to that sort of interest. God knows I'm thankful, don't get me wrong, but what is it about a woman loving another woman that is so alien from a man loving another man, or for that matter, a woman loving another man. I guess my question is really more of a statement.
Lesbian relationships still seem quite taboo in all sorts of media. As if the very thought was too icky for straight people to think about. Saturday Night Live even had a sketch about this a while back. So either its "men go first" and when gays are accepted, it will be the lesbians and bi-sexual's turn, OR something deeper in the straight psyche is at work here, and we'll never be as "hip" as the boys. Fine by me. Back to watching Law and Order.
Another note, webcam pics tend to show me with a mustache, for some ungodly reason. I SWEAR to all the gods that I don't have even a vestige of a 'tache. Why the horrid room lighting points out facial hair that I don't possess is beyond me. It also seems that my relatives have chosen dark grey as this year's color scheme. Maybe I oughtta go rob something?
This is not to say that it is a bad movie, it's certainly not. It's good. It's just not wonderful, great, fantasic, earth-shattering and all the other adjectives being heaped on it. Having read the books and seen all the other movies I can say that RoTK (the movie) is very much like the Two Towers (the movie). They are enough alike as to be inter-changeable.
Having read the books over and over for some 25 years I was initially afraid to see the first of the movie trilogy. I thought it would be horrible and that it could never compete. I was VERY pleasantly surprised. These movies do justice to the books and are as good as movies of Tolkien's work have ever and perhaps will ever be. Taken as a whole, they are great blockbusters. They are far from horrible. Yet, they cannot compete with the books. The movies add some interesting things (Arwen as a main character - who knew Liv Tyler could act so well??) However, they remove several, to my mind, important things. No Tom Bombadil? (Read this article if you want a view as to why Tom was important)
Nothing, of course, can be perfect, and these movies are fine as they are, entertaining romps. Sean Astin, in particular, is perhaps the best part. They are not (and RoTK is certainly not) classics in the realm of Gone with the Wind, as I had read in the reviews.
Beyond that, RoTK is a distinct disappointment. I was expecting a thrilling and rousing conclusion. Instead, it sort of petered out. Perhaps that was because I knew how it ended, however, I took a friend of mine who had seen all the previous movies and had NOT read any of the books with me to RoTK and even he thought the ending was less then stellar. He agrees with me that The Two Towers and Return of The King could be one in the same movie, or at least integrated into each other with no one noticing. Over all, I was quite disappointed.
I think I can relate fairly well to their joys and problems, but, no, I am never right in my assumptions. Everything is always much more complicated and much better/worse than I could ever imagine. I do not (as I have been told time and again now) have as much "on my plate" as they do, and therefore am not even capable of understanding them.
This makes conversation rather difficult. It also leads me to wonder why I bother conversing with them at all.
What did you do in 2003 that you'd never done before?
Became an aunt. Twice. :>
Did you keep your new years' resolutions and will you make more for next year?
No, and I've stopped making any. They all lead to nothing anyway.
Did anyone close to you give birth?
Yes! Both of my sister-in-laws. (curse them...)
Did anyone close to you die?
What would you like to have in 2004 that you lacked in 2003?
Nothing I can think of. I've been remarkably blessed.
What date from 2003 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
April 1st, the day my nephew was born.
What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Probably learning to let go of someone I was clinging to.
What was your biggest failure?
That it took me so long to let go.
Did you suffer illness or injury?
A few colds, bronchitis, nothing big.
What was the best thing you bought?
The Looney Tunes Golden collection on DVD. MmmmMm...
Whose behavior merited celebration?
Tojo, the miracle dog!
Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
George Bush's, a few old flames and one girl I thought I might actually have loved....
Where did most of your money go?
To Xmas presents!
What did you get really, really, really excited about?
The day I saw my miracle dog actually walk towards me after 7 days of being paralyzed.
What song will always remind you of 2003?
Probably that horrid lil Britney song...What's the name of that piece of trash, its godawful but I can't get it out of my head now. Make it stop!!!
Compared to this time last year, are you: I. Happier or sadder
ii. Thinner or fatter?
After my night at the cookie tray? Fatter.
iii. Richer or poorer?
Richer I suppose, but most of its tied up till spring.
What do you wish you'd done more of?
Er...ANY of? Sex, sex, sex
What do you wish you'd done less of?
How will you be spending Christmas?
Spent it with my brother's wife's family. Oh joy.
Did you fall in love in 2003?
How many one-night stands?
None. I think those days are over. Least...I hope they are...
What was your favorite TV program?
As always, Futurama, The Simpsons and perhaps this year....The Screen Savers
Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?
Hate? No. Strong dislike? Yes.
What was the best book you read?
"Jimmy Corrigan: The Smartest Boy in the World" by Chris Ware.
What was your greatest musical discovery of 2003?
Dino Lupatti. Piano genius. Died young. He played Chopin like it was Rock N Roll.
What did you want and get?
Tojo's health. Miracle dog. 'Nuff said.
What did you want and not get?
Nothing I can think of off-hand.
What was your favorite film of this year?
Master and Commander or The Two Towers.
What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
Nothing I can recall and 37.
What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
Perhaps not having the man I thought I loved turn out to be a selfish, uncaring bastard? Yes, that would have been nice.
How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2003?
IDGaF. That's the "I Don't Give a Fuck" school of fashion.
What kept you sane?
Blind faith or stupidity. Haven't decided yet...
Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
Michelle Pfeiffer, Russel Crowe, Liv Tyler
What political issue stirred you the most?
The war in Iraq. :p
Who did you miss?
Nine years and counting, and it's still my father. He was my best friend and the one who knew me best. I miss him daily.
Who was the best new person you met?
Well I've ventured to meet a few bloggers, and they rock.
Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2003:
Life is cyclical and renewable and thank God for that.
Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.
"It's harder now that it's over. Now that the cuffs are off and your freeee..."
1. What was your biggest accomplishment this year?I learned that I could love and take care of my little nephew
2. What was your biggest disappointment?none
3. What do you hope the new year brings?A new puppy and perhaps a new niece or nephew for me to pat and play with
4. Will you be making any New Year's resolutions? If yes, what will they be?No no, those are evil.
5. What are your plans for New Year's Eve?Perhaps a visit with family, perhaps a nap on the couch. Haven't decided yet.
Fear led us to the assumption that all "bad" (ie, those not like us) regimes should be "changed". It led us to assume that a barely literate hick with a knack for sending people for lethal injection, hanging, drawing and quartering, or however they kill people in Texas is the greatest president since FDR. I'm not a huge fan of Bush, but I think he did the only reasonable thing he could do, under the circumstances, in regards to War. His is not a plan that will get him re-elected. His "war on terror" won't end with him. He won't have the glory of being there at the end of it. He knows that.
I make no excuses for my country's ostrich-like ability to assume that terrorism could never happen to us. For years we ignored (and to a great degree, still ignore) Israel, Northern Ireland and many other hot spots as places where "those things happen". When it happened here, we were in a heavy state of shock (still are) and an even greater sense of anger (still are). I know people who died in those towers. They don't deserve to be dead. This pisses me off. I can pretty well venture to guess that it pisses my entire country off. We thought we were safe. When the illusion of safety is removed from you that quickly, you get upset. I don't know about the rest of the country, but we New Yorkers never stopped being angry. Really, I can't speak for anyone but me when I say...I wanted someone (or someones) to pay. I wanted to hurt them as much as they hurt me. I wanted revenge. I wanted the deaths of 3,000 people to MEAN something. Mr. Bush, while not perhaps the best at giving speeches or acting half-way intelligent, seemed to want that too. That, I think, is the main reason he's still the president. I think some of the world ought to be able to "get" that. I don't know that everyone can. That's ok.
The world can accuse us of war-mongering, of attacking without provocation, even of going after the WMD that we, ourselves gave to Iraq not so very long ago. All of it is true. As I said, I hate politics. This is not political. This is about grief, anger, vulnerability and our reactions to it. We've only started dealing with what the rest of the world has dealt with for years. There is really no difference between us, now. The only difference is the response. We respond as we have been because we can. We are big, we are tough, we think we can solve the problem by blowing it up. I don't know that anyone else would do it so very differently, if they had the means. This is no accusation. I'm not trying to justify anything here. I'm just stating truths as I see them. Feel free to disagree. It's still, last time I checked, a free country.
It seems that you always show up now when you are concerned or have had a lil tiff with the lovely lady you dumped me for. You need solace, you need to be held, you need strokes. You need to be told you aren't an asshole. You need unconditional love. How convenient that I'm always around, hmm? Have you noticed (through your constant whining and concern for yourself) that I don't tend to add anything to the conversation? Can you guess why this is, babe? That's right, its because I don't give a shit.
Oh, no doubt I was once concerned for your well-being, and I sincerely wanted to help but you have pretty much drained me of all compassion. The only time I ever see your face is to hear you whine about her. Honestly, you just aren't all that bright, are you? Granted, I've said that hearing you discuss her doesn't bother me. It really doesn't. As I stated before, I couldn't give a shit. What bothers me is the slow realization (obviously much TOO slow) that you are not even close to the person I once thought you were.
You screwed me up so royally that I was all set to blame your little "visits" on myself. You used to warn me about your nature and I used to disbelieve you. Well guess what, its NOT my fault you are an asshole. Its not up to me to steer around you like you were a fucking leper. You have problems, get some FUCKING HELP. Don't describe all the ways you fuck people over and then sigh and blame it on yer genes. That's an enormous cop-out and license to be a jack-ass. Guess what? You don't have carte blanche to treat people like shit. Learn to be a good person or don't be surprised if people leave you en masse and yer written up in a pissed-off blog entry.
You, my old love, are a word-class jerk. You are a user, deary, and I'm well-rid of you. I just wish you'd leave me the hell alone. How's that for "personal honesty"? Merry fucking Xmas, Mr. Scrooge.
I never thought something could be quite as ugly (in a cute way) as this until I saw it. It was a gift though, and I am grateful to everyone who is kind enough to think of me. No, really, I'm serious. Quit snickering!
"...and look at me without you. I'm quite proud of myself. I feel reckless, clumsy, and like I'm making a mistake. A REALLY big mistake..."- Everything But The Girl
What I'm thinking is this. I'm screwed up. I could blame a lot of things for this, childhood trauma, old boyfriends, the emotional scars that Ladies who Love can Lay on you...blah blah blah..but I can't really, and I won't.
Things happened, yes, but what screws me up is my inability to look past them. I continually pick at them, for my own personal edification, and when someone comes along who doesn't give a shit what happened when I was twelve and just wants to be with me in the NOW...I can't let things be. I can be happy, and am constantly happy but I cannot resist the temptation to look back in anger or in awe and wonder that I survived.
This is only me being immature. This is surely me being narcissistic. These things are decades gone and I still dwell on them. I cannot wonder why I am ever alone. Who would care to be with someone who cannot let the past be past? I have, as the saying goes, a hell of a lot of "baggage" that I've no idea how to dispose of and the moment I try to get rid of some of it, I start to wonder why I'd want to. I feel like I should be proud of surviving and wear my screwy-ness like a badge of honor.
In the end, I alienate anyone who tries getting close. I wonder how long this will go on. How long can I roll the past over in my head before it just gets...Boring?
Red House Painters are on Sub Pop now. Which seems...wrong to me. This is as melodic a band as you'll ever find. Unless Sub Pop has become something so utterly...'other', nowadays, I'd say its an odd fit. Anyplace they want to be, is ok by me. As long as they never, ever go away.
Azure Ray are from Athens. Georgia. Yep, they are remarkably southern. Lots of heavy bass...?Violin? ?Viola? They can be a bit of a downer, but what do you expect? These are southern girls.
When I first heard Early Day Miners I thought it was the score to a movie I had missed but should have really, REALLY seen...
Ya know who reminds me of early REM or For Squirrels? Subset does
Mason Jenning reminds me a bit of Dan Penn. Although Mason might actually soon become a household name.
In the realm of "singers" who don't really sing, its Adam Green! Although, to his credit, he can keep a beat and looks a lot nicer than Xtina. You know what I'm sayin'?
The Extra Glenns. They could tear you limb from limb before you could blink. Or so they say....
During this joyous holiday season, get SUPERFURRY! or get out.
Coming in under the heading of "kinda depressing, but talented", its Papa M
For a few dates, anyway, Daryll-Ann will support Counting Crows. This is not me supporting Counting Crows. This is me supporting Daryll-Ann.
I like The Decemberists and its their month. So I'll end with them.
Go buy this stuff. Go buy this stuff NOW.
The sky seems different nowadays. Brighter, cleaner....Sharper. Yes, yes, you smart-alecs, I KNOW "its winter". Things seem sharper too. Tis the season. You get gifts, you give gifts. People slow down, even slightly, for this exchange to take place. People stop and say "thank you" and "you're welcome" and "happy holidays" and they remember to say "I love you".
That phrase is rather important. The words themselves have little meaning unless they are true. People don't mean it enough. I used to hate it, actually. It was a statement of emotion. I'm not good with those. I'm still not the best, but I can say it now with feeling because its true and because I need to remember it and mostly because people need to hear it.
Now, I am a pest. I say it to all my loved ones. Some kinda look at me funny. :> That's ok. They don't have to understand it. They just have to accept it. I find when I don't say it, before hanging up the phone or before leaving someone or before a long journey, bad things tend to happen.
Now, I suppose, it's like a talisman. I don't say it to keep them safe, really, although perhaps that's a subconscious desire. I say it so that, heaven forbid, if something bad happens, it will have been said. It will exist between us and they will KNOW and I will KNOW and things between us will not be confused. I'm sure they know by now. I'm sure I could stop saying it and they would still KNOW but love is a thing that you don't stop to think about. It is a thing you give, of your own free will, and never expect to see again.
I like to give things. No, I mean I REALLY like it. No present that I've ever received his better then the "uber" look on someone's face when you give them a present that they like. I am quite the good gifter, if I do say so myself. I've always been this way. Giving out the candy on Halloween was always more fun then going out, to me.
This is, I think, something I learned from my mom. She never actually articulated it, its just something she radiated. As stated before, she was big on giving. As to where SHE got it, I couldn't say, perhaps HER mother. All I know is that this aura of joy in giving was passed down from her to me. I am not so stuck up as to think my love is a gift from me to them, but the SAYING of it certainly is. Words have power. Love is a powerful gift and, sometimes, anyway, love can be as much a talisman as that lucky rabbit's foot in your back pocket.
Ordinarily, you wouldn't think this would be the best of ideas. Writers don't often care for critics. Blog writers, however, seem to be a different breed altogether. If they even have a comment section, they must want comments. Most blogging seems to be a communal activity in the "Here's this post. What do you think of it." vein.
Blogging was made for the web and blogs would just be someone's boring journals without the ability to comment. I don't comment to be an ass. If I REALLY REALLY disagree with a post, I'll post about it myself and save the person the heartache. The blogs I read are much more well-read then this. :> There's much less of a chance of hurt feelings that way. No, when I comment its to be silly or to give support or because I have an idea or because (much rarer nowadays) I want to debate a topic.
Which is why I'm fuming right now. All these thoughts about new ideas running through my lil head and nowhere to comment. Ugg!
When I was 16 it was 1982. I was 2 years ahead of my "suicide at any price" faze, where Jackson Browne was my muse, and 2 years behind the summer of '84, (which, in NY anyway, was the summer of Bruce). I was too young (and rich) for punk, and it was pretty dead by then, anyway. New wave? How vapid. I was 16, I didn't want to dance, I wanted to whine. I found artists that suited my tastes but they were not '80's artists.
It would be four years before any music of the 80's actually spoke to me. In my sophomore year of college, I found the BoDeans, and the DelFuegos and the Long Ryders and though I was too old to say I had discovered a sound (and though it was certainly not the sound of my youth) I did turn a lot of people on to that 80's sound that not many know of. It still sounds as great today as it did back then.
I guess I was in one of those "in between periods" when I was a teenager. Not much was happening musically that I gave a damn for. I still would like to know where the Glitter Kids are today, though. What do they look like, what do they wear, have they sold out or do they still get dressed up and go to the disco every night?
152. What do you think is up with the Bermuda triangle? I think there is a great deal about the forces of nature around us that we will never understand and I don't think that's such a bad thing.
153. Are you jealous of anyone? Who? Why? I am jealous of people who are in love and of people with children. I miss being in love and, I suppose, a part of me wants children, as well.
154. What is the happiest way you can start your day? Being licked in the face by my dog, of course!
155. Have you ever had a moment where you felt everything was alright with the world? Often. I sometimes worry more than I should and I sometimes forget what is good about my life. Eventually, though, I remember how good I have it and I try to hold that thought for as long as possible.
What does it mean when a person is deep? Are you deep? I think being "deep" means that we think about more than just the food on our plates and what's on TV that night. I think every one of us is "deep" at different points. I think that's part of what makes us human.
157. What does it mean when a person is spiritual? Are you spiritual? To be spiritual is to accept that there are other forces in life then just the ones we can see and measure. I am not deeply spiritual, as I do not yet truly believe in one all-consuming ultra being, yet I have a spiritual side because I know that earth and space are far deeper than the truest science could ever discover.
158. What makes people different from animals? People ARE animals, 100%. If there is a slight difference between us, it is in our brain capacity. And sometimes...I even have my doubts about that...
what makes people different from robots? Robots have a finite range of action. They can only react as their programming allows them to. Ergo, a robot is only as smart as its programmer. As far as I have been able to surmise, humans have no programmer. There is no limit to our potential to learn, or the ways in which we may act or react.
160. Is it just me or are people getting more and more sensitive and touchy? I think it's just you. :>
161. Would you still love and stay with your girl or boy friend if he or she had to have a breast or testicle removed? Of course.
162. Fate or free will? A little of both?
163. Are you bored with life and if so why? Not in the least.
what could someone who is bored with life do to fix it? Just waste it as they are doing now and it will be over soon enough...
164. Can life change or are we all stuck in vain? Life changes by the moment. If you don't realize that then I suggest you haven't seen much of it.
how can a person bring about change? Just DO something. Anything.
165. Are you afraid of change? Oh my, yes
166. Are you a day person or nocturnal? I'm one of those annoying "morning people" that everyone seems to hate.
Have you ever worked in retail? No
What's the coolest job you ever had? I used to work for Publisher's Clearing House. There were certain, shall we say "perks" that I'm not at liberty to divulge now. (Nothing illegal, PCH, I promise)
170. What's the difference between slavery and being forced to work because everything is so expensive? If no one ever worked, we'd be in major trouble. Work is important and good for the soul.
171. Have you ever wanted to be an actor/tress? God, no
173. What star sign are you and what is your sign like? I'm a Gemini. It is said that we are a bit...Dual-natured. We also tend to be good communicators.
174. Were you scared by the Blair witch project? Didn't see it.
178. Are you a fan of any comic books? I love The Sandman and selected Chris Ware graphic novels but these aren't really comic books.
180. Do you usually smell good? As often as possible.
182. Where did your parents tell you babies come from when you were little? They told me the truth as soon as I asked. Which was rather refreshing, when you think about it.
183. You're taking a 5,000 question survey. Are you nuts? Yes
184. What's the best cheeesey 80's song? I like "Too Shy" by Kajagoogoo
185. What's the best date movie? Why, "16 Candles" of course!
186. Do you like to sit in the front, middle or back of the movie theater? As far in the front as possible, due to my bad eyesight. :p
189. Candles or strobe lights? Candles, natch!
190. Who can take a rainbow, wrap it in a sig, soak it in the sun and make a strawberry lemon pie? Errr...The Candyman can?
191. What besides money can make you extremely happy? Everything besides money. Money never makes me happy. I don't know many people that can say money makes them happy. It may fill bellies and get them out of the cold...But make them HAPPY? No.
192. You have to choose. Would you be happier marrying someone rich for their money or living in the streets and subway tunnels with someone you love? I think I already answered this one. The second one, for sure.
193. What commercial made you really want to buy something? Strangely, root beer commercials always make me thirsty for root beer. Soda commercials in general do nothing to me.
194. Have you ever made a snow-something-else (not a man or woman) ? Of course! A snow fort. Silly
195. If someone wanted to understand you what book should they read that will help them? Oh good luck there! Hehe. The book of my life, if it ever gets written.
196. When was the last time someone called you crazy and why? I don't remember. I rarely get called crazy. Weird, yes, constantly. Crazy, no.
197. Are you a space cadet? At times. Aren't we all??
198. Are you magically delicious? That's for me to know and you to find out....If yer lucky!
199. If you could wish for one object (nohing alive, no money) that was the size of your computer monitor or smaller and it would appear right now what would it be? A chew toy for Tojo, who is now annoying me with food whines an hour earlier than scheduled. :>
200. What does 'if wishes were horses beggars would ride' mean? Beggars do a lot of wishing. You would too, if you were one.
This is why guys are so much easier to read. Women are so eager not to give offense that they'll smile at you and strike up a conversation just to be polite. Men who smile and strike up a conversation are pretty much ALWAYS flirting, at least, that I've seen (feel free to correct me guys, if you disagree). Is it ultra-pathetic to dream about that lovely, untouchable creature tonight? Too bad, I'm probably gonna do it anyway. *sigh*
Are you male or female? "Ooh (She's My Baby)"
Describe Yourself "The Strangest Kind"
How do some people feel about you? "Fool"
How do you feel about yourself? "Heart of a Miracle"
Describe Your Ex "I'm In Trouble Again"
Describe your current significant other (real or imaginary) "Lookin' For Me Somewhere"
Describe what you want to be "Don't Be Lonely"
Describe your current mood "Can't Stop Thinking"
Describe your freinds "True Devotion"
Share a few words of wisdom "That's All"
The other reason had to do with my father's mind. He was a very, very, very smart man. I can't stress that enough. I have been trying to catch up to his level of genius my whole life and failing. Yet, when it came to his disease, he was a bit dense. He used to pick days, (Sundays or Christmas day or other holidays) and abstain from alcohol on those occasions as if that somehow proved he was not an alcoholic. He did this with a straight face and expected us to buy it when even as kids we knew better.
Why he even bothered is something I still ask myself, and no answers come to mind. Maybe he thought if he could do it he could retain (or later on, regain) our respect or maybe he did it to prove to my mother that he was capable of controlling himself or of changing (both of which turned out to be untrue).
Regardless, the end result was that for 24 hours straight we had very near a normal life. Which was very cool. My mom could love my dad (which she really did, with all her heart) and he could give her presents and shower her with affection (to the best of his ability).
Which was great because my mom lived for the holidays. She was an awesome cook. The best. I have yet to eat the better of anything made by my mother and, even though I may be a bit biased, everyone else who ever ate her cooking agrees. My mom cooked professionally. She had all the latest pots and implements, she made EVERYthing from scratch and would never think of using a "mix" of any kind.
I don't mean that she made regular food that you'd expect a housewife would make, no no, she made CUSINE. My mom made stuff that could have been made in top city restaurants. She never took a cooking course. EVER. Yet she made food that was to die for. She never rushed, she took her time in all things. She never sat down at any of her own parties, but was constantly in the kitchen.
At Christmas, she was a whirlwind of activity. Not only did she buy ALL our gifts and decorate the ENTIRE house herself, but she cooked 65% of every holiday meal, even if it wasn't being held at our house. Plus, her birthday was Dec. 30th and, it being so close to Christmas, none of us ever remembered it without a subtle reminder from her. That must have sucked. Having to remind your kids when their own mother's birthday is. She did so much for all of us and got so little in return, but it was in her nature to do that much and she certainly couldn't rely on my dad, who's presents always came unwrapped with a "here ya go" and a grin.
It was my mom who made Christmas so special for everyone, especially her kids. I think of her whenever I put up the tree.
I remember back when I first started (yes I know, it wasn't long ago) there were so many memes and each was an interesting thing. The questions were thought-provoking and I couldn't wait to get to blogging to answer them. Every day I still hope for an interesting topic, to no avail. Only the Friday Five is still even marginally interesting, and even it doesn't publish every Friday anymore.
Ahh well, maybe this will force bloggers to add more original content to their blogs. Maybe.
This year is the first Christmas for a lot of newborn babies in our family, so instead of the secret Santa, we agreed JUST to buy things for the kids and NOTHING for each other. We swore that. NOTHING for the grown-ups. So what should recently arrive in my mailbox?
Hard to tell, I know, but they are 4 cats with reindeer antlers. Meant to be hung on the tree.) My first thought was "Aww how CUTE! How sweet!". My second thought was "They do this to me ALL the time!."
We've had years that for whatever reason we've decided not to do "secret Santa" before and EACH time they all give me gifts! How is that fair?! I adhere to the letter of the agreement, which leaves me at a loss when next I see them. When we agree "no gifts", I take this as gospel. I know that as soon as we go secret-less one year and I show up with gifts for THEM they'll be upset with me.
That's not the worst of ideas, really. I wonder why I never just do that and ignore the proclamation from on high the way that they all do. I should, shouldn't I? Especially since this always makes me feel so bad and guilty. I'm not good at breaking rules, if I deem them as rules. I'm not good at going against the grain. It bothers me. I doesn't feel right. Then again, neither do these four cat reindeer on my tree and me showing up empty-handed. I wonder if its too late to boogie over to Amazon...
Which brings me to my strange thoughts nowadays. I love my baby nephew. I play with him often and watch him constantly because he is so beautiful. I have never picked him up, however. I am clumsy by nature and my balance stinks, and I am afraid I will drop him. I don't want his parents worried over his safety when he's with me so I have never even suggested holding him. I wonder, though. Will he know me and love me as much in later life if I never pick him up as a baby? These are the silly things that worry me. Bah. :p
You may be asking yourself, "What's an agnostic doing planning for Christmas?". Christmas, for me, has never really been about the single event that is said to have happened then (and by the way, its Mithras who's birthday was the 25th of December) but rather as a time to gather with family and give presents. I LOVE giving presents. That's probably the best part of the day, for me. Just the look in the receiver's eyes as you give a gift is pretty darn spiffy. I respect and value all religions but I grew up with Christmas, so I'm sticking with it.
I realize that there have been several allegations but is the amount of cases directly in proportion to the truth of those cases? One would think that it would be easier to accuse someone who's already been accused.
Regardless, we will have to live with the consequences of our actions for many years to come. Hooray for us for stopping him if he is what we think he is. God help us if he is not.
Cheekysquirrel says that bloggers aren't writers and I guess he's right. Writers put their work out for all to see, and to hell with the consequences. I hid behind a false name so that my family and friends would not be unduly hurt by truths which I was compelled to relate. So, I'm not a writer. My purpose here is not to earn a living or to get myself read (although that is a very nice plus). My purpose is to lay my truths out on the table so that I may know them. I used to do this anonymously. No more.
Yet, he is my best friend. For seven of his eleven years it has just been him and me - a team. Today I didn't wake up to his soft breathing beside me. Tell me "he's just a DOG" or tell me "you'll feel better once you have a new puppy to look after" or tell me I'm foolish for loving a four-legged creature so much and I will say "Yes", and I will say "I know.", and I will say "Of course, you're right.".
However, the facts remain. This house is not the house it was when he was here. It's not the house I know. The light is different. It's quieter and the days break up differently here. I no longer know this house. I no longer care to. I don't think I can sleep here...
I am a subtle taste, like Pine.|
I am a quiet, fresh taste, almost more of a scent than a flavour. You will be aware of me, but not quite remember me without being reminded. Not that I'm boring; on the contrary, I'm just a little outside the ordinary. What Flavour Are You?
The end result of all of this is that I am now going through a grieving process for my dog. He is still alive and he very well may bounce back from this and be as he was before, but he is eleven years old and sometime very soon, I will lose him for good. I have cried over him so that, hopefully, I will not have to do it again. Really though, knowing myself, there's not much chance of that.
On a slightly more upbeat note, I realize that I cannot live too long without a dog in my life. I've been going here and researching breeds of puppies. If anyone has any suggestions for breeds to look into, let me know. It MUST be good with small children and cats and should be ok with a house and small yard to run around in.. Ideally it shouldn't shed too much (although that's a lesser criteria) and should be a good watch and guard dog as well. Let me know if you have any suggestions. I need a nap.
When I finally had you, we did everything, I spent every waking moment by your side, and slept curled up next to you, my ever vigilant guard. I felt safe just being near you. Whenever you are near, I am not afraid.
Now you are aging, and far faster than I can keep up. Your back; your legs; your hips bother you and you must be in almost constant pain, yet you never complain. I watch you grow slower every day. Not long ago, the seizures started. I ache watching them take you and twist your limbs and make you scream in pain and I wonder. How long before I must decide? How much time do you and I have? Most of all I wonder, will I have the courage to let you go when your time comes or will I be selfish? Will I put my need for you above your need to go? I hope not. I hope I will be strong for you, but, I miss you already...
This process does not make me sad or depressed. It gives my knowledge into my neurosis. Knowledge is power. Perhaps I shouldn't share every step of the process with the world, but does the world really want to know what I had for lunch today? Personally, I don't read blogs like that. I read blogs like this (Love Hurts actually made me break down and cry). True emotions, coughed up from the heart onto the page.
I dunno, actually for all my love of analyzing, this is one thing I don't want to have to think about. If I have to worry about being chipper so I don't lose readers, well I might as well quit right now, or start writing about how I like my eggs.
"I write to keep myself from going crazy. :>"What is that about? Is this my subconscious way of denying certain facts or maybe glossing them over? Or am I bullshitting myself and everyone else and the smiley-faces are a way to point it out? Like "look, she's not being totally truthful." I don't think so. I think certain things are so ingrained into me that I cannot help but use smiley-faces. I have to be OK. It is REQUIRED that I be OK. I can whine, moan and bitch all I want but no one must worry about me. If I was shot, the first words out of my mouth would probably be
"Oh, I'm fine. Just give me a second."Asking for help, or even admitting that I might need it is a no-no. All reactions of an adult child of alcoholics. Easy to analyze it, but it takes work to overcome. ...So, why don't I want to? Why do I feel like "ok, these things are there" (even when I rarely even consciously KNOW they are there) but what's the point of changing now, after all these years?" I feel like people should deal with me "as-is". I should be good enough without being "fixed". (Jeez, I sound like my father there!) I like myself ok. I'm a doofus, but I'm a good-hearted doofus. Why change these fundamental things about myself just because others say I should. ...And why is loving someone else worse then loving myself?
Your dominant hues are green and blue. You're smart and you know it, and want to use your power to help people and relate to others. Even though you tend to battle with yourself, you solve other people's conflicts well.
Your saturation level is low - You stay out of stressful situations and advise others to do the same. You may not be the go-to person when something really needs done, but you know never to blow things out of proportion.
Your outlook on life is bright. You see good things in situations where others may not be able to, and it frustrates you to see them get down on everything.
I never even touched his face, yet we sent words back and forth between ourselves that would tear your heart out had you known about them. ...And yet...I never meant to hurt you. Truly, and honestly, I did not. In fact, at times I found it hard to remember that you even existed or that your children existed.
I loved him, or loved what he let me see of himself. He was my rock, my sturdy one-man support system during a few of the worst years of my life. He was there for me and I think he loved me too, because I was a woman and because I was not you. Forgive me, I don't know your story. How could I? He never talked about you.
You have every right to call me every name in the book. I deserve them all. I knew full well that you and your children existed and I didn't turn away from him. Nothing can excuse my actions or take away the hurt I caused you and yours. Say what you want about me, but you have a wonderful man there. He made a mistake with me but my guess is that, 10 years on, he's still with you. Cherish him, love him. I'd have done anything to be in your place.
Gift for Anne I like Elfwood, yet this is a very strange picture. The girl looks scared to death, and who could blame her. Look at the length of that horn! You can use your imagination here.... Grade - C -
Estreines a Anne Here's a nice poem for me. I like poems. It's the thought that counts. Grade - B
Quilts are always a thoughtful gift Personally, I like the small one with the leaf motif. Grade - C+
Someone drew this as a gift for me. How nice. Unfortunately, either they were going for that "anime super-deformed look" with the eyes and failed, or they just stink at drawing eyes. A pity. I can only give this one a grade of C-
Coloured Pencil - Pippa Now HERE is a beautiful painting. I'd be proud to hang this on my wall. Thank you so much...Whoever you are. Grade - A+A bunch of paintings Some of these are nice, but most are too cutesy for my taste. An A for effort, however. Grade - C
Over all, a rather poor showing. Remember, people, books and CDs are always great gifts and there's a fine line between retro trashy and just plain trashy.
|I have issues with...|
I am not thankful for work that needs to get done (at work and at play) only by me, whether because I am the only one "qualified" or because I am the only one with any sense of responsibility or because I am simply the only one ever there to do it.
I am not thankful for speeding maniacs who travel 90 mph down my street thinking it, perhaps, some sort of track who's finish line they must be the first to cross.
I am not thankful for the women who see me and think "desperate" and "lonely" and act like asses thinking that they are some messiah, my last, best hope. Neither am I thankful for the men who see me and think "love-starved" and "horny" and act like asses thinking they can use me to fulfill their own desires and toss me away when they are done.
I am not thankful for tiny dogs who's barks are four times as big as they are.
I am not always thankful for silence.
I am heartily thankful that I could think of so very little to not be thankful for.
I remember my grandfather's old record player/T.V. The thing was the size of couch yet the picture was so tiny. The record play was on top of the unit and slid open and closed so you could put things up there too. I had never seen a combo record player and TV and I've yet to see another one.
In the same room was his old brown rocking chair. It was really more of a solo glider I guess. Sitting in it, I felt like the smallest thing in the universe, but at the same time protected by the aura of his cigar smoke that hung around it constantly. To this day, cigar smoke reminds me of my grandfather, and comforts me. I would sit in it and glide back and forth and fall asleep, my legs barely hanging down, let alone touching the ground.
Thanksgiving there was always turkey and stuffing and mashed and baked and broiled potatoes and gravy and biscuits and pumpkin, apple, and cherry pie for dessert. Then coffee, then ice cream and we would eat til we could barely stand and my younger cousin would say grace. "Rub a dub dub. Thank god for the grub. Yay god!" This, of course, made us bust up laughing. My grandparents never saw the humor.
The driveway was cracked blacktop that they never got repaved. My little feet used to trip over the mounds of broken pavement. It is now a pristine black mass. They had a small stone wall around the front lawn, it started about three feet from the grass to the driveway but got progressively shorter as you went up. I used to never be able to climb that bit of rock, and had to be hoisted up to watch the boys play touch football or tag (staying discreetly out of the way, of course)
We'd stay there in the dimming twilight from after dinner until they put out dessert, at which point we'd all run like jackrabbits to the table, our fingers and cheeks and the tips of our noses red with cold. It was always cold back then. Seemingly much colder than it is now. When night came we sleep in tiny little rooms with eaves painted black and white that seemed to reach up beyond the limits of our sight. The house smelled of old people, of mothballs and liniment, but eventually we got to sleep. Thanksgivings were looong days. Too much food, a lot of turkey and a lot of running around outside combined to put us to sleep quite handily.
All the old furniture is gone from that house, to be replaced by things that....seem quite similar. My aunt is in full "grandmother" mode, having grandkids of her own now, and the older she gets the more knick-knacks she acquires. I could promise myself I will never be that tacky, but if I am lucky, I will see grandchildren too, and there's nothing like a real old fashioned "nana" to make your childhood complete.
Survival n 1: a state of surviving; remaining alive [syn: endurance] 2: a natural process resulting in the evolution of organisms best adapted to the environment [syn: survival of the fittest, natural selection, selection]
Even though I am barely at the mid-point of my life, I think I have already achieved a remarkable bit of survival. I don't see this as "survival of the fittest" however, but more of a function of my stubborn nature combined with sheer dumb luck.
I survived an early attempt by my body to kill me off via extremely high fevers that forced paramedics to pack me in ice like a bag of freeze-dried peas. No miracles here. Eventually the fevers grew lower and with time (and many late night baths in luke-warm water that felt like ice) they passed.
I survived the alcoholism of my parents. First that of my father, who never went out to drink but stayed at home and like clockwork at 8 pm turned into a Mr. Hyde that I neither knew nor understood. The things he said and did while drunk are still the stuff of my nightmares. When he grew old enough to fight back, I survived wishing that my younger brother would kill my father, not hurt him, not wound him, but kill him, once and for all so that we might be free. Later, I survived that long walk on the beach after my parents divorced, where my father told me how he used to beg my mother to stay with him. I survived hating her for refusing him, even though I knew that had she not done so I would still be in that alcohol-fueled hell.
Years later, I survived the alcoholism of my mother. Late nights in cars driven by her, wondering if this would be the night she crashed the car and killed us both. Coming to visit her and turning off the stove burners that she had left on all night or locking the doors she had left wide open or grabbing the dangling cigarettes from her passed-out fingers before they lit up the shag carpet or being so incredibly ashamed of her that at times I wanted to deny her existence or to hurt her enough that she would stop drinking and revert back to the Donna Reed that she had been for me for so many years.
I survived my teenage years as an outcast and a laughing-stock, although this was nothing compared to what I had already survived. It was, however, in combination with these other things, far too much to bear at times. I survived wishing myself dead and gone from that place and made not one actual suicide attempt, although I had killed myself hundreds of times, in my mind.
I survived unrequited love, loving and losing, breaking up over foolish things that seem so stupid now. I survived the active hunt for love or something very like it. I survived, and am surviving, being alone. I will survive love again, for it is in my nature to do so.
Then, I survived the loss of my parents and the extreme and incredible guilt that came with it. I survived thinking that had I done or said or thought something that caused it. I survived feeling a sense of relief and hating myself for the feeling. I survived the deep heart's ache that didn't seem to want to leave.
...and still, I survive. Life seems tattooed on my body, in pits and bumps where the hurt and joy have made their mark. Hopefully, there is much more to come.
Personally, I don't know if I'd want to buy and read Kurt's journals and I don't know if anyone should be able to. What a hypocrite I am, though, I read the journals of strangers on a daily basis and nod and smile and think I know them from that brief taste of their lives, just as I think I know Kurt from some music through a speaker. Neither is true. I don't know the slightest bit about the people who's journals I rifle through and I never knew nor will EVER know Mr. Cobain, no matter how much of his journal I may read. Let's face it, the real reason the journals will sell is because what we want to know, in the end, is why he died. Most of us who even think of reading through them have an inkling as to why, anyway. We will, however, never know if our suspicions are correct. Even if they are, nothing changes the basic fact of the matter. The poor man is dead, and his personal thoughts should not be on display after death like a neat bit of taxidermy. Let him rest and let his inner thoughts rest. I think we...I think I owe him that much.
"... burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars", as Jack Kerouac said. That inner fire of ours makes us glow and it is only there BECAUSE our lives are fleeting. We are young, and as youths we run around and bump into things and do stupid shit constantly and we live like tomorrow is our last day because it very well may be. We live our lives on death's timetable but, far from making us morbid or depressed, it only makes us more determined to live life to the fullest, and to wring every drop that we can out of it. This is a uniquely human thing. You don't see monkeys or lions cliff-diving or mountain-climbing. Why are these things a rush? Because we know we can die. It is the rush of passing death in the hall and walking on and still living. Every hour we live in spite of death is a wonderful thing.
""Be not as one that hath ten thousand years to live; death is nigh at hand: while thou livest, while thou hast time, be good."- Marcus Aurelius Some people never think about these things and I can't for the life of me understand why....