We Pawns

I bumped into the name of an old college friend of mine today. I was getting the School of Journalism newsletter onto the web, and there it was. Sheila. But is it really her? The woman's picture is only a little like the girl I remember. There was an email address. I wanted to contact her, to say, is it you? Are you the Sheila that went to Steamboat Springs with Daisy Trench? Do you remember the pics we took of each other by the auditorium?

I felt silly doing that, so I did something even sillier. I sent her a poem that she wrote long ago, and I asked: Sheila, is this your poem? If she recognizes it, that will prove it's her without me having to ask all these personal questions.

The poem is called 'We Pawns." She wrote it when someone broke her heart. She would never tell me who it was.

We Pawns
So what gives you the right?
Am I such a burden now?
To you, I guess I was just a bug on a pin.
A specimen for all your friends to examine
And exclaim "ooh" and "ah"
While looking at you enviously.

What gives you the right
To toy with my feelings, you fool?
Do you know, I really loved you?
I doubt you care -- not even
In the deepest corner of your heart.

Heart? Heart? Do you have a heart?
Or is it just a piece of data processing?
A little microfiche stamped "heart."
A miniaturized computer with tabs
That say "motives" and "drives."

You will never know how happy I was with you.
Did you ever guess that one night
I actually pinched my knee
Because I couldn't believe that it was you
Sitting across the table from me!

And that's not like me, either;
Usually, emotions are broken down
Into little components with "reason" and "judgment"
Imprinted on them.

But for this once, I decided
To dispense with the analysis of emotions.
Just experience them, maybe it will be better.
After all, emotions are not concrete.

For this, I was dealt a blow.
No return, only your greed.
Blind at the time, I fulfilled your need.
I guess I was just a pawn.

Well, we pawns have feelings too.
And believe me, it won't happen again.
Thanks for the scar on my heart
Which will prevent me from ever
Experiencing love as with you.

You took what you wanted and left me in the street to die;
And I did die, a thousand times,
As a friend joked that maybe
You'd given my bracelet to another girl.
That hurt! So bad, like a knife
Reopening a wound. My bracelet;
Why couldn't you have given it back, only two blocks away?
It won't fit you. It's made for a tiny wrist -- like mine.

On Death

I went to my dad's last night to help pay bills, as I've done every week without fail (practically) since Mom died five years ago. Dad's 70 now. His hair's been white for a while but suddenly last night, he looked old. Suddenly last night he looked like he might becoming frail. It was easy for me to imagine being at his funeral the way we'd been at Mom's.

He told me a story of a hawk that he saw catch a sparrow. The hawk perched on his back fence and ripped the sparrow to shreds. He said it was horrible to watch. I spent the evening thinking about how death stalks each one of us. It lurks right behind. We might die violently or gently, but we are gonna die. Remember that, and let it make each moment sweeter.

Welfare Sucks

Welfare sucks. It creates a bunch of worthless idiots. Case in point: the black welfare mom who chewed out New York City mayor John Lindsey: "I've got six kids and each one of them has a different daddy. It's my job to have kids, and your job, Mr. Mayor, to take care of them." What baloney! What arrogance! These people need their welfare checks stopped. I've worked hard to take care of my kids. Why do I have to pay for this kind of crap from her?

To Do Before I Die

Raise good kids -- and love the heck out of them
Play a team sport
Learn to play a musical instrument with some degree of skill
Learn a foreign language
Explore a foreign country
Learn to sail a sailboat
Ride horseback on the beach
Visit a real castle
Get published: book, article, or letter to the editor
Go cross country by bus
Go on a pilgrimage or vision quest
Dance! Learn a style and go several times, enough so you get good at it.
Learn NATO phonetic alphabet
Go caving
Take a road trip around the state, visiting all its interesting and unusual places
Swim in the ocean
Eat a fresh durien
Eat mangos fresh from the tree
Read a book that's considered influential
Go target shooting with guns or bows and arrows
Join a Living History group
Go skinnydipping
Roleplay
Teach a class
Get good at reading tarot cards
Memorize a poem (or several!)
Love someone even though it makes no sense
Ice skate on a river
Hold a butterfly
Hold a baby chick
Be present at a death
Plan a funeral
Join a community, any community, and work to make it work
Get banned from somewhere for improper behavior
Be the boss
Be in a play
Teach someone illiterate to read
Be able to entertain a group with a story
Visit a concentration camp
Attend a really huge rock concert
Be responsible for kids: babysitter, camp counselor, etc.
Visit the Panama Canal
Visit a rainforest (there's one in Oregon)
Go on a backpacking trip, 3-day minimum
Go camping
Go whitewater rafting
Ski or snowboard
Climb a mountain
Go to a Rainbow Gathering
Be there for a total eclipse of the sun
Take a ride down a subterranean river
Ride a mechanical bull
Be a nude model for an artist or drawing class
Visit New York City's library and Central Park
Go see Lady Diana Spencer's grave
Make a friend and sustain the friendship over many many years
Get a master's degree
Become really and truly myself
To Be Continued . . .

Melissa Plaut, New York Hack

I'm fascinated by bloggers who make the big time. Lots of us are. Bloggers are reality shows over the internet. We like to see how and what other people are doing.

So here's another one: New York Hack. I read about her in Yahoo News this morning. She's a cab driver in New York. Unlike myself, she posts her real name and pictures of herself on the site. It's kinda cool to see New York from a cab driver's perspective. She's down with the real people of the city. New York is such a fascinating place. So much hustle and bustle. Will Melissa Plaut get a book and T.V. show like Stephanie Klein did?

http://newyorkhack.blogspot.com/

Stephanie Klein: Another Blogger Makes Good

Stephanie Klein, Greek Tragedy. A voyeuristic peak into a chatty girl's life. She's become immensely popular, has a huge following. She's landed a book deal (Straight Up and Dirty) and I hear they are going to make a sitcom based on her story. Why she's so popular: her blog is a real life Sex and the City. She's young, she's pretty, she's chatty, she talks about everything (nothing is too sacred or personal to share), she blogs in the nude, she posts lots of pictures. She lets herself be known.

I don't do that. You don't know who I really am. It has to be that way. I'm a wife and mother of teens -- I can't be known! I post stuff here that's secret to myself. I don't mind letting you, gentle reader, know all. I've told you that I love someone else. But I can't have my husband or my kids finding out, now can I?

http://stephanieklein.blogs.com/

What a great weekend!

Friday Jan 27: Right after dinner, Rhiannon and I took off for Borders Bookstore. We love hanging there. We snag two comfy armchairs right next to each other, order up two hot drinks (usually chai) (a comment on their chai recipe: too much pepper), scour the store for interesting books then spend the rest of the evening reading. It's great. Right before we left, guess who called up? Joe. He wanted to come over and see Don, allegedly to show him the new interior he's put in his van, but I bet it was really 'cause he was out of pot and wanted to score some from my husband. I'm glad I wasn't there.

Saturday Jan 28: My birthday! To celebrate, I went shopping at Costco with the free pass they sent me in the mail. The included brochure neglected to mention that Costco only accepts cash, debit cards or American Express. I drove all the way out there, fond out my Visa card wasn't good enough, had to drive all the way back to my bank, then all the way back to Costco. I was pretty pissed but went to all that trouble because I had my heart set on shopping at Costco for my birthday. I bought a ton of stuff but don't think I'll get my own Costco card. I'll sponge off my Dad if I need to shop there again. After that, I took a friend and her kids to see Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, showing at a Cinema Savers near their house. The movie was much better the second time. I was able to see it as itself this time instead of constantly comparing it to the book like I did last time. I was even able to be less upset about Dumbledore. Emma Watson and Daniel Ratcliff are so cute! I love them both. Back at home, there was a present from Kendall waiting on my bed -- a little Faberge egg with a chocolate truffle inside. Don and Rhiannon made lemon poppyseed muffins, stuck them full of candles and sang me Happy Birthday. Don gave me a beautiful opal and white gold ring. I should stop being a bitch to him about what he cannot do (can't support the family, can't be a good dad) and just be nice about what he can. When the presents were opened, we settled down to watch "Sideways." I was amazed by the wine discussion. It illustrated to me once again the value of going deep within a subject, letting it move you and learning all about it. This mastery of subject is one of the things that makes life sparkle. I frequently spend Saturday evenings chatting with my buds at the Joseph Campbell Mythology Group. Couldn't today, though -- our router's down so I can't connect. A sad note: the Challenger disaster happened 20 years ago today.

Sunday Jan 29: Off to the gym for a session with the weights. I'm getting stronger, no doubt about it, but I'm not getting any slimmer. The waist and hips are just the same as when I started this program six weeks ago -- possibly because I'm having difficulty with the controlled caloric intake. I keep cheating. Afterwards I stopped at the cemetery to do some more comparison shots with different lenses. Then we were off to Dad's house for a family party. Ray, Maria and Tessa came with all their kids. The four of us had a rousing discussion about religion and morality. I say morality doesn't come from religion. They, being religious, have swallowed their church's teachings that sans God there is no morality. Fools. Don't they know that all, even sacred writings, even God, comes from within ourselves?

Goals for the New Year

Today's my birthday! As the clock of time ticks onward toward my death (a motivating thought) I ponder, what do I want to accomplish this coming year?

1) Master the art of conversation
2) Take good pictures
3) Become a good tarot reader
4) Increase web design skills
5) Pass Level 3 in ice skating
6) Get the ol' body in shape
7) Understand Ultimate Reality
8) Live by all of Charity's Laws

Rhiannon and the Army

Rhiannon, 20, has been toying with joining the military for more than a year now. She finds the thought of boot camp intriguing. Could she survive it? Dang that Rhiannon -- tell her about a challenge and of course she wants to try for herself. Plus there was that incident in AmeriCorps, when she so impressed her supervisors that one of them, an Army major, told her he'd write her a recommendation to West Point if she wanted to go there. She pondered that possibility for a while. It'd be great to get college free.

Now she's decided she wants to follow her love of languages and become a linguist. She's found that the Army runs a total language immersion college and she wants to go. The Army will pay for it all. She talked to a recruiter about it yesterday. (She expected them to be good at their jobs, she said, and boy where they ever. They made her feel very cared for. Of course, she's smart and funny with an hour-glass figure -- they probably couldn't help themselves.)

If she passes the linguist test, the odds are good that she'll sign on.

Dang.

I've been dreading this for years -- the day when she leaves for good. Being a camp counselor, joining AmeriCorps, running off with the Rainbow Family -- those were all temporary separations. Joining the Army is permanent. She'll be an adult when she gets out and she'll live somewhere else. I almost sank into depression but luckily my affirmations and the things I've learned in Religious Science came to my rescue. It's not bad that life changes. Even though Rhiannon's gone, things will continue to be bright. And interesting. And even exciting. Heck, it could be a good thing for all of us.

Michael Moore and his PhotoShopping ways

On MM's web site today, (www.michaelmoore.com) there are pics of Chris Matthews and Osama bin Laden, apparently the best of friends.

The pictures are both funny as heck and tremendously ironic.

They are a fantastic illustration of the way Michael Moore makes his movies. With these Matthews/bin Laden pictures, Moore took real photos, cut them up, pasted them together and ended up with a lie -- something fake made of something that originally was real.

In the same way, when he makes his movies he takes real video footage and interviews, cuts them up, pastes them together, and ends up with something that looks real but actually never happened -- a lie PhotoShopped from bits of truth.

Valentines

On Sunday, I packed up all my valentine fixings and went to my sister's to watch the game and make valentines with the kids. Tessa's troops (She's got ten. Really.) are always so excited when I show up. They run around like crazy yelling, "Aunt Daisy's here! Aunt Daisy's here!" Then, all talking at once, they tell me their news du jour. It's great for the self-esteem.

Well, I haven't made valentines since my daughter Michaela was in elementary school. We set up in the dining room and I set to, cranking out one work of art after another. I listened to the game with one ear (our team lost) but mostly I focused on valentines. I was a valentine-making dynamo. Doilies and hearts and glue and glitter everywhere. I left them all there, drying in rows on the piano. They were for the kids, not me. I can't wait to do it again.

Lace and Flowers

Today a co-worker told me she saw a blouse at an upscale department store that totally reminded her of me; said it would be perfect for me. It was all antique lace and flowers, with flowy sleeves and an old-fashioned bodice. Sounds lovely, yes? But this is exactly why I never wear that style -- because people think I'm lace and flowers even though I wear sports jackets over jeans and a t-shirt. I like to be feminine and graceful. As a matter of fact I make it a point to be. People are always so surprised when they find out I can shoot a rifle and ride a horse, but don't know anything about growing roses. They think I'm so delicate and girly. If I wore lace and flowers, I'd be a ridiculous caricature of myself.

The Power of Affirmations

I've been doing affirmations for a month or so now. The ones that have really worked for me so far are:

"I am beautiful." It's amazing how quickly this one has worked! Yea, I still have my same face, but I FEEL beautiful now. And people look at me like I am.

"I have many friends of all ages." This one has helped me to being open to all ages of people. Yes, I can be friends with people who aren't my age.

"There is abundant love for me in the universe." I just started this one. Two days ago I went to a cooking class full of people I don't know. I said this to myself whenever I felt the fear arise, and I was able to be open and friendly, instead of my usual scairdy-cat shyness. The others responded to me in a positive way. It was wonderful!

Don't Look Back

Make a decision then go forward. Do the best you can and don't look back. You can't live your life with regrets.

I say this to encourage myself to live this way. Sometimes it seems that all I've ever done is live my life with regrets. It's not working for me. I have to accept that I didn't say what I didn't say. I didn't do what I didn't do. Why look back now and wish I'd done different? It's all water under the bridge, as they say. I can only go forward from where I am.

Anniversary

I was cleaning out my closet and came upon Mom's old purse, the one she took to the hospital the day before she died. I keep thinking I'll give the purse to the Salvation Army but I never do. I keep it to remember what it was like to be at the hospital. I stayed awake all night with her in intensive care. My siblings had planned to, but when they fell asleep I didn't wake them up. My wakefulness was a gift I gave her. She died in the morning, and after an hour or so of grief and shock, we took her stuff and went home.

There is absolutely nothing like taking someone to the hospital and leaving next day with a bag of their stuff. I can't even describe it.

Mom died five years ago this month. Dad still takes it pretty hard.

If Only

Here's how I feel about Joe:

No matter if the sun don't shine
Or if the skies are blue
No matter what the end is
My life began with you.

From No Matter What by Boyzone

I'm Discouraged Today

I'm discouraged because I can't keep my body as beautiful as when I was younger -- I'm skinny all over except for my waist and hips. I'm discouraged because Joe loves me and I love him but we'll never be together. Because my kids are teens and I don't know how to parent them anymore. Because I can't really talk to my husband. Because I'm shy and scared of people and can't stop.

But you know what? Kendall gave me a floating orchid candle for my bath yesterday. She thought of me and bought me something. I'll think of that and be happy.

Why are poor people so fucking fat?

Who is paying for the huge quantities of food that they are consuming? It takes some doing to hit 250, but they are doing it. They can't stop shoveling food into their mouths.

Type 2 Diabetics are Idiots

The New York Times is running a series on the country's diabetes 'epidemic' as though it were a real disease. It's a sickness caused entirely by the individual's behavior, and these people are idiots. Here are some quotes from people afflicted with the condition:

Mr. De La Vega nodded. "We love eating trash," he said. "We grew up eating McDonald's, and I still find myself eating candy and chocolate cake." People got huffy about their doctors. "Mine tells me, 'Lose weight, exercise more,' " Ms. Matos said. "Let him live my life and see." Mr. Rivera said: "You know what I think? I think there's a cure. We're the poor, so they don't want to give it to us." "Listen, if I want to eat a piece of cake, I'm going to eat it," Elsie Matos said. "No doctor can tell me what to eat. I'm going to eat it, because I'm hungry. We got too much to worry about. We got to worry about tomorrow. We got to worry about the rent. We got to worry about our jobs. I'm not going to worry about a piece of cake."

Why not stop with the doughnuts and fried calories and eat salads, drink diet soda?

James De La Vega laughed. "We've got cultural differences," he said. "Here, for a guy to eat a salad, he's a wimp. He'll eat a big portion of rice and beans and chicken. The women can't be chumps, either. A woman can eat a salad but has to eat it on the low. She has to do it quiet. They make fun of you: What are you, a rabbit?" Mr. De La Vega said: "Nobody here goes out and gets an apple. They get cake. People here associate diet as unhealthy. If you're dieting, then you're sick. You look at the people on the streets, they're heavy. That's the way we grow up here."

Me again: These people are idiots. Why should I pay for their health care? I'll only agree to that if I can dictate their diet and lifestyle.

Dreams

I went to bed late last night, slept soundly, dreamed good dreams of visiting with my sister then woke suddenly before the alarm, filled with dread, as though there were something important I had not done, or some important decision I had made wrong.

More sleep, more dreams, these ones of driving with Joe in his van, then stopping to make out in a tangle of arms and legs and blankets. Joe had the face of my husband, though.

FanFic Parody

A friend wrote this mockery of fan fic, to make fun of the idiots she runs into.

Starbringer59: i am liek hawt n standin in teh gardnn. hello i sayz ur hawt leggy wanna cybre plzkthx.
Mississippienne: Then Legolas slaps her, once and very hard. Then he walks away.
Starbringer59: leggy slpas me n i m rely sade n start cryin leggy why u slaped me n he cums back n hugs me n crys im so sorrie plz forgv me n i do.
Starbringer59: than leggy n i get maried n gangulf n teh elf kinge (sorre i forgit hiz nam) cum n tehy mak us teh king n quenn off teh hol midle earht.
Starbringer59: leggy n i rul good ovre teh land n we hav mane kidz. i have triplts harry pottre hermone potter n giny poter, n tehy grow up n nede r help 2 fite teh dark lorde voldimort n we fite him until he diez.
Starbringer59: kan u rate my fanfic?! plzkthx but dont rate if ur gona say bad stuf cuz ill droun my kiten iff u do.

Oh the Pain

Woke up this morning with muscles aching from my workout yesterday. I'm in week three of the Six-Week Fat to Muscle Makeover. (See book of that name on Amazon.) Week three adds a couple more weight routines. It's the arm one that killing me, weakling that I am.

The program is working great so far. I've been able to increase the weights almost every time I go, and even though I've cheated on the prescribed diet, I've lost four pounds. I'm back in my regular jeans (hooray!) and by the time I'm done I'll be back in my skinny jeans.

I saw a lady at the gym yesterday whose body was a bad example, a terrible warning of what my body could become -- is becoming -- if I don't get in shape. She was slender all over and even had a lovely small waist, but her ass was massive. It was completely out of proportion to the rest of her. She probably has a desk job just like I do. She sits all day, like I do, and any extra calories go straight to her hips.

The Julie/Julia Project

Julie Powell. A blogger has hit the big time. Totally cool and good for her! Her story: shel felt stuck in a nothing job with a life going nowhere, so she started cooking. She set herself the task of working through Julia Child's "The Art of French Cooking" in one year. That means she's making two or more recipes a day. That's a lot of kitchen time. She blogged about it, talked abou what it was like to kill a lobster and search for unusual ingredients. A loyal readership gathered round who encouraged her, bought her groceries, didn't let her give up. The story ended happily with a new book ("Julie and Julia") and a new career for her (she's now a food writer for I-don't-know-who). I'm proud of her.

The Julie/Julia Project

Hope

I'm not sure if my hope will ever see the blog.
But just knowing that it is out there makes me happy.
Someone read it on it's journey, someone saw.

A Christmas Present to Me from the Universe

In the morning, I went up to the rec center to work out. There was Joe's car in the parking lot. He and his little girl were there swimming. When they were leaving, all wet and bundled up, they stopped in the workout room to say hi. We chatted about nothing important. It was very nice to see him. I feel like it was a Christmas present to me from the Universe. I spent the day very happy and excited about life, because he has that effect on me -- everything's better when I hear his voice. That evening when my husband and I made love, I pretended it was him. I probably won't see him again for months. But ya know, I've had some nice times with him. I'll just have to remember those and be thankful. I've been out to dinner with him. I've sailed with him. We've been driving. I've kissed him. I've had him in my arms. So I've had what I want.

Thoughts on Heaven and Hell

We all go to the same place. What makes it heaven or hell is what we have inside us. Some of us carry heaven inside us, so every place is heaven. Some of us carry hell inside, so every place is hell.

It's like that old Chinese story. In hell, all the people are seated around a long dining table piled with delicious food. Each of them has six-foot-long chopsticks. They are all starving because the chopsticks are too long and they can’t eat. In Heaven, it is exactly the same: long table, tons of food, six-foot-long chopsticks, but everyone is well-fed and happy, because they are feeding each other.

I've been to hell, as you may recall. I spent many years there, as a matter of fact. Anger and resentment made my life hell. Time passed, the feelings gradually lessened, and afer a while I'd finally had enough of them so I completely let them go. I never want to go back to that way of being.

Lesson: what we must learn is how to make our lives here and now a heaven on earth. The virtues which do are well known -- and have been well known since before the Bible was written -- the foremost being love and forgiveness. If the Christian system gets you there, then good. If not (and it doesn't for everyone. For some, it's ruined their lives) then you must leave it behind and find something that does teach you how to create heaven here on earth.

Thoughts on the Bible as a Spiritual Guidebook

The Bible works where it encourages its followers to love and good works.

The Bible fails where it encourages hate, intolerance and fear. And yes, it most definitely encourages hate, intolerance and fear.

Where it describes a theological system, it is neutral. One's theological system doesn't matter so much except as it encourages happiness here on earth. Christians spend so much time arguing amongst themselves about the particulars of their theological system when really it doesn't matter one whit.

The Bible works where it teaches how to find happiness here on earth, and fails where it teaches otherwise.

Movie Review: Chronicles of Narnia - Lion, Witch, Wardrobe

The writers and directors did a great job of bringing the book to life. They were able to bring the story to the screen almost exactly as Lewis wrote it. There are small changes, but they enhance rather than detract. The important bits, like the death and resurrection of Aslan, are all there.

The children all did a fantastic job. Lucy is bright and plucky, Susan beautiful and valiant, Edmund deceitful then remorseful, and both he and Peter brave and handsome. Especially Peter. I'm totally in love with him, as I bet are all the females from 12 on up who've seen the movie. He does a fantastic job playing the oldest son trying to live up to the responsibility that is thrust upon him.

The show starts with a very exciting scene that explains why the four Pevensie children were on their own in a big country house -- in WWII, London children were evacuated to rural safety during the German bombing of their town. The scene where bombers fly over the Pevensie house is tremendously exciting, and obviously Peter learned something of war methods during the incident for he uses the strategy in his own battle.

The faun Tumnus was perfect. I'm in love with him second after Peter. The White Witch was not as I pictured. I did not care for her costume or make-up. Eyes and lips too pale, and why the strange ugly dress and the blonde dreadlocks? I thought of her as having skin white as snow, lips red as blood and hair as black as ebony, in no small part because that's how Lewis described her. Her character portrayal was spot-on, however. No complaints there. She was cold, cruel, proud, manipulative and a fantastic knife fighter, too. Very impressive.

I thought the Christian allegory was downplayed a little, which could be a good thing or a bad thing depending on your point of view. They certainly didn't hit us over the head with the fact that Aslan was the True King. I thought some important lines were left out, but my daughter Rhiannon tells me they worked them in in other places. Did I miss the Beavers saying, "He's the King of the wood, the son of the great Emperor-Over-Sea" or did they just not say it? How about Father Christmas saying, "Long live the true King!" And Lucy asking, "Is he safe?" with the Beaver's reply, "Safe? Of course he isn't safe, but he's good." And especially, "He's not a tame lion."

Aslan's death scene was very moving and intense, though less intense that it could have been. Lewis didn't mention blood, but surely an allegory of Christ's death isn't complete without it. Aslan should have been lying in a puddle of blood and it should have been dripping down the sides of the Stone Table. But maybe that would have tipped the movie into a PG-13 rating, which perhaps the movie should have had anyway. I don't recommend this movie for young children. It has scary battle sequences and frightening moments.

I'm happy to report that the movie has more action than the book. We get a good look at some of the things that Lewis mentions only briefly -- like the wolves going after the Beavers and the big final battle scene itself. There is a great scene of the children crossing the thawing river while pursued by the Witch's wolves -- not technically in the book but it fits right in, and we get to see Peter be heroic, too. Sadly, Peter's very first battle, him against the wolf captain, wasn't well portrayed. It was pathetic, as a matter of fact. Peter doesn't do anything but hold his sword out until the wolf jumps on it.

I could do more nitpicking, but I won't. Bottom line -- excellent character portrayals, exciting action, slight changes to the pure storyline that add rather than detract, Christian allegory downplayed but not omitted -- all in all it's a great story nicely told. And did I mention that I'm in love with Peter?

Christmas Party

David's employer took everyone out for Christmas dinner. It was so nice to see everyone again. I haven't seen them in years -- since they left David's shop to start their own. We met at Jamie's, chatted over wine and cheese, then went to an expensive French restaurant. I had a marvelous time. They all hugged me when I got there, and we all hugged again when we left.

Joan and I talked about our kids, of course. We both have three, and we were pregnant at about the same time with all of them. We talked about what it's been like all these years. It makes me think how important long-term relationships are. They make you feel stable and connected. I hardly have any long-term relationships. Because I don't do relationships. I don't know how. I am afraid, and I just don't care.

Many times I'm very happy by myself. But sometimes I get lonely. That's when I wish I were better at making and keeping friends.

Christmas Party

David's employer took everyone out for Christmas dinner. It was so nice to see everyone again. I haven't seen them in years -- since they left David's shop to start their own. We met at Jamie's, chatted over wine and cheese, then went to an expensive French restaurant. I had a marvelous time. They all hugged me when I got there, and we all hugged again when we left.

Joan and I talked about our kids, of course. We both have three, and we were pregnant at about the same time with all of them. We talked about what it's been like all these years. It makes me think how important long-term relationships are. They make you feel stable and connected. I hardly have any long-term relationships. Because I don't do relationships. I don't know how. I am afraid, and I just don't care.

Many times I'm very happy by myself. But sometimes I get lonely. That's when I wish I were better at making and keeping friends.

Affirmations

I am not afraid of people; I easily converse. I am not afraid of people; I easily converse. I am not afraid of people; I easily converse. I am not afraid of people; I easily converse.

Over and over I write this. and as I do, the pit of fear in my stomach grows. I AM afraid of people; I DON'T easily converse. I sit with the fear for a minute, feeling it, and as I do, it dissipates.

I am not afraid of people; I easily converse. I am not afraid of people; I easily converse. I am not afraid of people; I easily converse. I am not afraid of people; I easily converse.

The fear returns. The truth is, I am afraid of conversing, afraid of speaking, afraid of not having anything to say and looking foolish. It is a valid fear, but one can be resolved with some preparation. I know what to do -- discuss the news, remember a story about myself, share a joke. I CAN do it, but not off-the-cuff. I have to prepare.

I am not afraid of people; I easily converse. I am not afraid of people; I easily converse. I am not afraid of people; I easily converse.

Yes, maybe I can.

A Jeans Jacket with Black Velvet Sleeves

That's what I'm wearing today, with jeans and a white lowcut t-shirt. I look pretty damn good, which admittedly is easy when you're wearing what I'm wearing. There's not too much that's cooler than a jeans jacket with black velvet sleeves.

We're Walking to the End of the Beach

It was a busy family time down in Sarasota, but Don and I found time to walk on the beach on Siesta Key after the sun went down. One should always find time to walk on the beach. Our last night was wonderful -- hand in hand, on powdered sugar sand, a full moon overhead, pale clouds drifting by, the dark shape of a heron in the shallow water. We walked for an hour. It wasn't so much romantic as companionable in a very deep and intimate way. "We should walk to the end of the beach sometime," said Don, and I thought what an incredible metaphor that was. The beach is our life together. We're walking hand in hand, and we're committed together going all the way to the end. I haven't always wanted to do that, as a matter of fact for many years I've been waiting for the right time and place to leave this beach. Things have changed though; I no longer feel that way. Now I want to walk hand in hand with Don to the end of our beach.

A letter from a Marine who died in Iraq

Cpl. Jeffrey B. Starr, First Battalion of the Fifth Marine Regiment, died in a firefight in Ramadi on April 30, 2005, during his third tour in Iraq. He was 22. This letter was found on his laptop, to be delivered to his girlfriend in the case of his death.

"Obviously if you are reading this then I have died in Iraq. I kind of predicted this, that is why I'm writing this in November. A third time just seemed like I'm pushing my chances. I don't regret going, everybody dies but few get to do it for something as important as freedom. It may seem confusing why we are in Iraq, it's not to me. I'm here helping these people, so that they can live the way we live. Not have to worry about tyrants or vicious dictators. To do what they want with their lives. To me that is why I died. Others have died for my freedom, now this is my mark."

The Death of Pheasants

Boiled up three pheasants last night with the goal of making pheasant with dumplings. Don's friend Todd shot many many of them on a hunting trip and now we get the fruits of his labors, such as they are. As I cleaned them in the sink I thought about their deaths. It must have been pretty scary for them in that field that day, with all the yelling and tromping and gunshots. The shot drives their feathers into their flesh, pokes their bodies full of little holes and breaks their bones. One of the pheasant was shot at pretty close range. Its body was a mess -- not much left of the breast on the left side. This is what it means to be shot to hell, I guess. The chicken we buy in the store is so so clean. We even buy it deboned now, which removes us yet another step from the fact that this was a living creature. It's more obvious what you are eating when you have to pick the shot out, break its leg joint with your hands to get the claw off because the joint is too tough to cut through, and remove bits of lung tissue and heart. Life feeds on life, says Joseph Campbell. It's one of the mysteries of this life. I live because it died. Thank you, pheasant, for what you have given me.

They Love the Sound of Their Own Voices

I'm listening to a Stanford college lecture through iTunes called "Leading the Good Life: Lessons from the Greeks." It reminds me of one of the things I hated about college -- the long-winded professors. This guy's got one hour to get through his lecture. He's told us in his introduction that he's going to cover five important philosophies. He's still making the introduction, though, and it's 15 minutes into the lecture. He's told us what he's going to do immediately after the lecture. He's told us how important this lecture is going to be to us. He's told us how we all want to lead the good life. But he's only just beginning to get to the substance of the lecture. And to think I had to spend $600 per credit hour for this blather when I was an undergraduate.

My Own Little Shoplifter

Kendall turned 18 in April. In May, she was caught shoplifting. She had to pay $200 to the store, and she has a court date, too. (And since she doesn't have a job, it means that I had to pay $200 to the store. She promises to pay me back, but realistically, I don't think my chances are very good.)

From the Colorado Revised Statutes: "Concealment of goods is commonly referred to as 'shoplifting.' If a person conceals unpurchased goods owned by, held by, or offered by a store for sale, whether the concealment is on his/her body or somewhere else, he/she may be charged as having intended to commit the crime of theft (18-4-406). An adult or an emancipated minor who takes possession of any merchandise from any store without having paid for it will not only be responsible for paying the actual price of the item, but also a fine paid to the owner of the store for not less than $100 and no more than $250. The parents of any unemancipated minor will be responsible for paying not only for the stolen item, but also he fine to the owner of the store (13-21-107.5(2-3))."

Thrift Story Junkie

That's me. I love popping in to the neighborhood thrift store on my lunch break or after work to see if I can score a treasure. Everything's so affordable that I can indulge my urge to shop without running up huge bills. I can indulge clothing whims, too, quite affordably. One season I decided I was only going to wear skirts and so I did. The downside of all this is that I have a ton of clothes. My closet and dressers are bulging. Somehow a whole bunch of clothes spilled out of my closet yesterday and lay there in a huge pile. I wasn't sure how to get it back in so I put the pile on my bed. It will probably move back and forth from my floor to my bed to my floor for a few days until I finally have time to purge the closet and dresser and find room for it all.

The moon was beautiful this morning. It's full. It was almost directly ahead of Mel and me as we drove west into town. Behind us, the sun had just come up. The moon hung over the western mountain range for a few moments, looking huge and bright against the dark morning sky, then slipped away behind the mountains, moving so quickly we could see it sinking. Smaller, smaller, just a tiny bright sparkle, then gone.

Hurricane Katrina/George W. Bush

"Is there any problem in the world that is not Mr. Bush's fault, or have we reverted to a belief in a sort of witchcraft where we credit a mortal man with the ability to create terrifying storms and every other kind of ill wind?" -- Ben Stein

Dinner and a Movie

Don and I went to Joe's apartment for dinner -- tilapa, tortellini and homemade ice-cream -- and a movie -- Brazil. The three of us are starting to hang around together a little bit more, which is quite interesting. I was so in love with Joe a couple years ago, if you'll recall. Still am, a little, from afar. At one point in the evening, while the two of them were in the kitchen, I looked over from the couch and thought, "There are the two men that I love." Then Joe came into the front room and we smiled at each other, very sweetly. Back at home, Don said I looked so pretty that evening and said, "I wonder if Joe thinks I'm lucky."

"You are lucky," I said.

Yes, it is nice to be all together. I certainly hope that no one suggests a menage a trois. Yes, I still wish I had Joe in my arms, but I also think sex is sacred. I wouldn't want to go that far.

Death is My Lover

Death is my lover. He wants me deeply, intensely. He loves the way I move, the way I gesture when I speak, the way I tilt my head. He can't wait to get me alone.

He comes to me at night. He whispers love words in my ear and my mind goes swirling away into dark emptiness, a pale mist dissipating in the boundless unending abyss.

Death touches me as I lie in bed, so tenderly and so gently that I can hardly feel it. But my body turns to hard dry clay and bit-by-bit in flakes and shards I crumble away.

He sits beside me in the garden. The sun is black, the roses withered, the insects tiny buzzing skeletons. Eternity weighs upon me then. It is so heavy I can't move, so loud I cannot hear.

My husband doesn't know I have another lover, one who is faithful and infinitely patient. Death waits for the day that I love him back, for the day when, in his arms, I forget all the other things I've loved.

I want to kill myself sometimes

Sometimes I just end it all, because I don't think there are any answers to life's difficult questions.

Why are we here? Why is there death? Why does life hurt so much? I'd rather die now than wait for the incredible pain that will happen when my husband passes away. It's coming. It's coming. I'll sit by his grave one day and I'll weep.

Unless I make him sit by mine.

And honestly, I would never do that, not on purpose. (She laughs at the irony.) So I'll just sit here, enjoying the sunshine, waiting, and watching, and knowing that heartbreak is on its way.

He went to Paris lookin' for answers
To questions that bothered him so
He was impressive, young and aggressive
Savin' the world on his own

But the warm summer breezes
The French wines and cheeses
Put his ambition at bay
The summers and winters
Scattered like splinters
And four or five years slipped away

Then he went to England, played the piano
And married an actress named Kim
They had a fine life, she was a good wife
And bore him a young son named Jim

And all of the answers and all of the questions
Locked in his attic one day
'Cause he liked the quiet clean country livin'
And twenty more years slipped away

Well the war took his baby, the bombs killed his lady
And left him with only one eye
His body was battered, his whole world was shattered
And all he could do was just cry

While the tears were a-fallin' he was recallin'
Answers he never found
So he hopped on a freighter, skidded the ocean
And left England without a sound

Now he lives in the islands, fishes the pilin's
And drinks his Green Label each day
Writing his memoirs, losin' his hearin'
But he don't care what most people say

Through eighty-six years of perpetual motion
If he likes you he'll smile and he'll say
'Jimmy, some of it's magic, some of it's tragic
But I had a good life all the way'

And he went to Paris lookin' for answers
To questions that bothered him so.
by Jimmy Buffet

Is Dumbledore Alive?

Probably not. The phoenix sang a song of mourning, remember, and Dumbledore's picture now hangs in his own office.

Hard Edges

I spent a bit of time with my cousin's wife. She's pretty, kinda, and blonde, and isn't afraid to speak her mind. She has hard edges, though, and being with her made me more aware of the kind of person I want to be. I want to have soft edges and a firm core. I want to be a sweet, gentle person who won't be swayed from what I think is right or from the path that I have chosen.

The Program is Working!

I was all discouraged yesterday because my butt looks just as big as ever, even though I'm jogging more and working out at the gym too. I figured I might as well find out what the bad news really was, so I pulled out the tape measure and wrapped it around the ol' hips. But guess what? I'm an inch slimmer than last month. It's working! In spite of my inconsistencies in diet and exercise, it really is working!

I'm jealous

I'm jealous because K is a better photographer than I am. I'm jealous because his work has come to the notice of our head of photography, who is going to get him some freelance work. I'm jealous because K can handle it and I can't. I'm too nervous, too scared of people, too socially anxious to be in the spotlight. Could I ever handle the work, even if I got it? Probably not.

This is funny

I watch a lot of TV.
I drink a lot of coffee, too.
But you know what's really addictive?
Heroin.

The Tao Has No Pity

The Tao has no pity. The Tao has no face. The Tao does not hold out comforting arms. It cannot be contacted and cannot be used. It is silent and unreachable.

When one observes the actions of any of this world's gods, one sees the Tao. One sees a god with no pity and no face, a god not moved by entreaties, a god who behaves as though he is not there.

Does God exist? It doesn't matter.

A day with Joe

I just spent an hour with Joe. He changed my headlight for me. Don's been so grumpy; I didn't want to ask him to do it. I got to see Joe's shop and we chatted for a while afterward, too. It's always nice to see him. He looked a little thin and pale. I didn't get a chance to ask him how he was doing physically. Our conversation ran this way and that but didn't go there.

Was I powerful enough? Was I bitchy enough? Did I monopolize the conversation enough? No, not enough, but I did some. So our time together was a moderate success. I don't figure I'll see him again for a long time. I'll hope, of course, as I always do, but my hopes will be dashed, as they always are. Though you know, it's not that big a deal. It's not like we're right for each other. We aren't. He's into kinky sex and drugs; I'm not. Sure, he's funny and enjoyable to be around, but I need someone who's going to listen to me talk. I don't talk that much so I don't think it's too much to ask. Just a little, thank you, with a few questions here and there to show you care.

So we're not right for each other. I still want to be friends, and I'm not going to sit around waiting for him to call. That will never happen. I'm going to take matters into my own hands and invite him over, him and his little girl, to see our bunny and meet my little nieces.

I want someone I can talk to and tease with like I do with Professor Rogers.

Later: What a wonderful, lucky day! An old wish of mine was granted -- I got to go driving with Joe.

He called in the evening to ask a favor of my husband. Joe had dropped off a customer's car and needed a ride back to his shop. My husband wasn't in so I did the favor instead. I picked him up at his apartment (and got to see his new kitten) then drove him to his shop, 30 minutes away. We chatted amicably the whole way. We talked and teased. It's a beautiful drive and it was a beautiful evening.

I've always wanted to go on a car trip with Joe. And now a wish of mine was granted.

She's gone, and I've no idea where

I just did a stupid stupid thing. I'm a very bad mother. I let Rhiannon go visit a friend. An online friend. Who bought her a plane ticket to come see him. I don't know one thing about him. I don't know his address, or his phone number, or his chat name, or his email address. I haven't got one single bit of info to help me find him, except that he is a college student, his name is Will Ogden and he lives in Pennsylvania.

That's is. That's all I know.

I don't know where Rhiannon is.

I let Rhiannon have full control of this trip. I didn't meddle in any way. I let her be a grown-up. Now I'm paying the price through worry. I forgot that a real grownup doesn't make loved ones worry. She said she'd call but she has not. Yesterday I called the Will Ogdens in the Philadelphia area, to no avail. Tomorrow I call all the Ogdens in Pennsylvania.

Back from camping. We went for one night only as Rhiannon needs to get ready for her trip to Pennsylvania tomorrow. What a traveler she's become! And what a great time we had with the SCA. Weather was good, up till Sunday afternoon when we left. Our garb was great. We knitted. We met people. We stargazed. We watched the archery and the heavy fighting. I learned to juggle. We had a blast.

We became better friends with the Wardens and made plans to form an encampment with them at Talons of Fury in September. We'll have our own roaring campfire and entertain one another with medieval games, stories and songs. Our camp will be a thing of beauty, ringed with tiny lanterns and with a pavilion in the center. Maybe I'll make a new dress for the occasion. I've got tons of cloth to use up, after all.

Back at home, Rhiannon made herself a new pair of pajama pants. I helped. We had a ton of fun, laughing and giggling about all kinds of silly things. We have a new saying to laugh at -- "I'm stumped!"

Going Camping with the SCA

I'm going camping tomorrow, going camping with Rhiannon and the SCA. The event: Crossroads up at the Pawnee National Grasslands in the Kingdom of the Outlands. Tomorrow night will find me in a long flowing dress and a warm wool cloak, sitting around a campfire and listening to songs of love and glory. Huzzah! I'm very excited.

Stem Cell Debate

You're telling me that the miracle of embryonic stem-cell research must have federal funding to emerge? You're telling me that the souless, greedy, capitalist drug company lords are not willing to invest the money necessary to unleash what--if we're to believe most Dems and the ESC lobby-- could be the greatest medical advancement of all time (and consequently, the greatest money-making medical advancement of all time)? They're just passing on that?

Actually, those soulless, greedy, capitalist drug company lords hold the patents for this research. Since destructive embryo research resulted in dismal failure, the only way they can regain their investments is to be born-again as soulless and greedy socialists. They are using the BIO lobby to edge their way closer to Momma Sow's teat.

reprinted from http://www.townhall.com/clog/archive/050522.html#041944P

How to Overcome Shyness - Lesson Two: Thinking of Others

You got this way by thinking a certain way, but it's just not working for you. Are you willing to completely change the way you think? Turns out that popular people, extroverted people, think about other people. Really. You're going to try that too.

Your assignment: You're going to spend some time just thinking about someone you know. Choose someone. Now, set a timer or keep your eye on the clock, and think about them. What do you know about this person? Do you know where he/she is from? Is he/she married? Kids? What do they do for a living or for fun? And what do they think about all of it.

That's it. That's the assignment. Do it every day, choosing someone else to think about. You are practicing a hugely important skill, something that is vitally necessary if you are going to overcome your shyness. You are learning to think about other people.

How to Overcome Shyness - Lesson One: Being Happy

Do all your needs have to be met before you can be happy? What if only some of your needs are met, can you be happy then?

Yes, you can. You can be perfectly and completely happy when only some of your needs are met.

Your first assignment is to think of the things that make you happy, most especially, the things you can do WHILE ALONE.
Here's what makes me happy: Being in a library and thinking of how I'm surrounded by the thoughts of the human race. Being outdoors. Working in the garden. Playing with my dog. Watching my cat play with my dog. Watching my gerbils. Sitting in the sunshine. Taking walks at night. Taking pictures. Drawing. Writing in my journal. Iceskating.

Next time you do something on your list, I want you to do it wholeheartedly. I want you to feel the happiness within your body. You are not ever to think, 'This would be so much better if I were doing it with someone else.' Allow yourself to be happy alone.

When I Die

When I die, I want to be buried in the earth unembalmed. I don't want to be filled with preservatives or placed in a thick casket or entombed in a concrete vault. I want my flesh to touch the earth; my body to be cleaned by the bacteria and bugs; my bones to be stripped and purified.

My death comes, maybe slowly, maybe quick. Mortality weighs upon me, almost suffocating. It makes the present moment seem brighter -- the sun on the grass, the rustling leaves, the wind, the brightness of the street. I see these things from my office window. Inside are my office mates who one day will be bones too. This moment is precious beyond anything anyone can imagine. This moment stretches behind and ahead into eternity, and is itself eternity.

One day the thing that is me will be gone; only bones left. Same with Don. Same with Rhiannon, and Kendall, and Michaela. Their uniqueness gone. The expression of the universe that I loved, gone. The little bit given me, gone.

What remains? For people, only love matters. In the greater scheme, only the earth remains. Only the earth, and the sky, and the wind.

Freakonomics: What Makes a Perfect Parent?

An interesting book, for sure, but this chapter doesn't prove what it sets out to prove. What makes a perfect parent? Apparently it's your kid's test scores. Hmmm. Not whether he's a joy to have around? Gets a long well with his siblings? Does the dishes when you ask? How about if he's really good at what he loves, would that count? What if he works to make the world a better place? Well, no, not according to the author. That kind of stuff can't be tested. All that matters is test scores.

So right off the bat, the guy's judging parenthood by one of the less important factors in a person's life.

He starts the chapter by saying that apparently, parenting doesn't have much to do with how a person turns out. He goes on to say that going to a good school doesn't make much difference, either. A few pages on he talks about how kids do better in good schools than in bad ones, and he finishes the chapter by talking about how parenting makes a difference in the long run.

So what makes a perfect parent? I can't say. I don't think Mr. Levitt can say, either. I'm not sure I know what the guy believes, or even what the numbers show. Apparently the numbers can prove just about anything.

A lovely weekend

What a fantastic weekend! It was one wonderful thing after another.

Friday night: went out to eat with Rhiannon, then to a coffee shop where we ate chocolate, sipped lattes and talked about the meaning of life. I love that!

Saturday: I watched Finding Neverland, a wonderful movie about the man who wrote Peter Pan. I chatted with my chat group. I had a really neat revelation about accepting our limitations and circumstances. What if you were locked in solitary confinement for the rest of your life? What if your cell were pitch black? It would be utterly horrible! And yet, you still can choose how you'll react. Even in utter darkness, lonely and alone, there is an element of happiness to be found. Even then. So why do I complain about my spacious well-lit peopled cell? Because I want it to be even more spacious, well-lit and peopled, that's why. And thus I make myself unhappy.

Sunday: While walking the dog, I came across a bumblebee that needed help so I saved it. A bit further down the path I almost stepped on a rattlesnake. It coiled and hissed at me, showing its fangs. Pretty scary; pretty cool. Later, I had an excellent meditation on immanent and transcendent divinity. Also realized as I did The Work on my fear of others, that my fear wants to protect me from rejection, and when I learn to handle rejection (which I plan to do by rejecting it) then my fear will be able to sit back and relax. Also sat in the sun and soaked it in. God is Light. Is light God? Rhiannon gave me chocolate, Michaela gave me a card she painted, and Kendall wished me Happy Mother's Day.

A photographer

While out practicing my close-up shots yesterday, a little girl asked if I was a photographer. I hesitated a moment before replying, "Yes!"

I am a photographer. I'm an amateur who is just beginning her serious study of the art, but I'm a photographer nonetheless. I've been taking photos and reading photo books for years.

A photographer

While out practicing my close-up shots yesterday, a little girl asked if I was a photographer. I hesitated a moment before replying, "Yes!"

I am a photographer. I'm an amateur who is just beginning her serious study of the art, but I'm a photographer nonetheless. I've been taking photos and reading photo books for years.

Fairy Tales

I spent the evening reading the fairy tales of The Faun and the Woodcutters Daughter, an excellent collection of new fairy tales written in the classical fairy tale style.

• Fairy tales teach -- how to have courage, what to watch out for, how to be a hero.


• Fairy tales entertain. They are packed with beauty, danger, conflict, and daring deeds, all the stuff that makes a good story.


• Fairy tales remind us to view the world with wonder -- it's full of fairies and magic.


• Fairy tales encourage us to have hope. Though the witch has cast a spell on you, with perseverance and a pure heart, you can overcome it.

Are UFOs for real?

Are UFO's for real? I don't think so. Many people claim that the Army and NASA know that we're being visited by extraterrestrials but hide the truth because they don't want to cause widespread panic. I say baloney. Here's why:

First, a question to get you thinking: What does the Army need more than it needs anything? This is question goes to military theory. I'm asking about any army, any military, any where and any time in history -- the tall and proud United States Marines, the great fighting machine that was the Roman Legions, a band of braves on the North American prairie. What does a fighting force need?

First and foremost, it needs an enemy.

Ain't nothing for it to do if there ain't no enemy.

Extra-terrestrials would be the perfect enemy. If the Army or NASA could prove that we were being visited, then their budget would explode. They wouldn't have to close bases or deal with budget cuts. We'd throw money at them! Our best and brightest would sign up to deal with the alien scourge. Warriors and scientists and explorers of every stripe would be salivating to get their hands on this problem. Thank God, something to do! What a fantastic challenge! The existence of extra-terrestrials would be a good thing for NASA and the Army. That's why I don't believe in a cover-up.

Kendall turns 18

I wondered all day what surprise she'd have for me now that she's reached her majority. You know how kids ask to do crazy things, and the answer is generally 'Yes, when you're eighteen!' So what will she have today? A tattoo? Bright green hair?

Later: It's a tongue stud. And a pack of cigarettes. So after dinner, the girls and I went out on the porch and had a smoke. Really. Even Michaela, who's 15. The girls all looked pretty cool and sophisticated with their cigarettes. They obviously have more experience than they've let on. For me, that was probably the fourth cigarette I've ever had in my life. I learned something, though. I learned that sitting around smoking with friends is a neat way to pass the time. You talk and shoot the breeze. I had a good time.

Scary Tarot Reading

I frequently do spreadless readings, in which I ask a question and draw one card to answer.

My latest tarot reading scares me. I asked, "What can I do to get Joe out of my head? I don't want to think of him all the time anymore!" I drew the Two of Cups, which means friendship and love. In other words, the cards are saying, Don't bother . You two are going to be close. "But what about Don?" I asked. I drew the Five of Cups, which means grief and loss. Oh no! What's going to happen to Don? I don't want anything to happen to him. I love him. Yes, he's hard to live with, but I love him. I love both of them.

The Lovers, The Hermit, The Chariot

I drew three cards for a Tarot reading a couple days ago, asking "When will I understand what life is all about?"

The cards were the Lovers, the Hermit, and the Chariot. What could it possibly mean? I wasn't able to intuit the meaning immediately, so I pondered the answer for a few days until it became clear. (One problem with understanding Tarot is that so many people say so many things about what the cards mean. You can get pretty confused.) It was actually quite simple, really. Just read the cards straight up and there it is. I'll understand what life is all about when there is perfect union between the lone seeker and the master of the physical world. I'm the Lone Seeker; the Hermit is my significator. I figured that the Chariot referred to my husband, who is Mr. Fix-it. So, perfect union between the two of us -- that's a tall order!

But later I got to wondering. What if the Chariot referred to Joe? It could. And the Lovers -- that's our card. The card for Don and me is Temperance, that is, combination of different materials. So, anyway, a few days later I was sitting with my cards, asking questions and drawing one card per question. What would be the significator for Joe, I asked? I drew a card, while thinking "I'm not sure I'll believe this answer." But guess what the answer was -- it was the Chariot.

A Stoner Party

The phone rang at 9:30 pm last night. I was right by it so I picked it up on the first ring. My husband must have been waiting for the call as he picked it up on the first ring too. "Hello?" we both said. "Hey Don, it's Joe," said Joe's voice. "Come on over." "All right, see ya," answered my husband. We all hung up. I felt a little shaky. My heart pounded in my chest. Joe's voice! How I used to long to hear that voice! Just hearing it used to make things all better. And now there it was, asking my husband to come over. Don was out the door in ten minutes. I know what Joe wanted -- he wanted someone to smoke pot with. The two of them were having a stoner party.

AmeriCorps Pledge

I will get things done for America, to make our people safer, smarter, and healthier.
I will bring Americans together to strengthen our communities.
Faced with apathy, I will take action.
Faced with conflict, I will seek common ground.
Faced with adversity, I will persevere.
I will carry this commitment with me this year and beyond.
I am an AmeriCorps member, and I will get things done.

Eric Cecil's Suicide

Last Friday evening, Eric Cecil tried to kill himself with a drug overdose. He was mostly successful. He wound up in intensive care, his life hanging by a thread, and that thread tied to this earth by high-tech machines. There was no hope, though, and so on Sunday his parents gave permission to remove him from life-support. In this way they finished the job they themselves had started on Friday afternoon, when Eric told them he was gay and they kicked him out of the house. He was sixteen years old and an acquaintance of my children.

Shit, it's our anniversary

Don and I have been married twenty years. I've been unhappy more than I've been happy. It's been more miserable than joyous. I've been unhappy 60 to 70% of the time. It's been a crappy marriage. In twenty years I have not learned how to manage him; I have not learned how to change his mind when he's wrong; I have not learned how to deal with his tempers, his bad moods, his criticisms; I have not learned to communicate.

I guess I'd better learn. That's what I'm here for, isn't it? I chose him because he was like my Dad. I chose him so I could redeem my mother's marriage. My mother was miserable, too. But at least in that case, Dad made a ton of money. He took care of her financially, he took her on trips around the world, and he cared for her in his own immature way.

Don cares for me in his own immature way, too. Unfortunately he's a complete loser when it comes to making a living.

Go with your gut

Don't worry, and don't think about it. When the time comes, you'll know what to do.

The problem is doing it when the time comes. You'll always be able to recognize the right time - it's that split second when you think "I should talk to them" or "I should do that" and then your mind says "No you shouldn't, because of this semi-plausable reason." It is a briefest of moments, and almost always everyone agrees with their mind.

Never agree with your mind. Your mind has no idea what it is talking about. Always go with your gut.

How to be completely miserable

1. Want something you can't have.
2. Reject what you do have.

Don and Joe: Best Buddies

So my husband comes home from work and says, "I'm going to go up to visit Joe. He lives up the street across from the laundromat. He invited me over." He grabs a bite to eat and off he goes. I know Joe lives up the street. I went to his place last year about this time. It was the second-to-last time I ever talked to him. See how the universe taunts me. Very funny, God! My husband gets to be friends with Joe but I don't. I loved him but now I don't even get to see him.

Later: Don came home very very late, and very very stoned. They are both stoners. I hope they are happy together.

Parasite: Pinworm

Kendall knocked on my bedroom door late last night. "Can we go to the drugstore? I need some medicine." She was horribly embarrassed to tell why. She'd somehow contracted pinworm. You know what that is? Little tiny white worms that live in your guts and crawl out your rectum at night to lay their eggs. You can see them if you look at your private parts at night. Yuck! Kendall self-diagnosed; I did not check her. When you're 17, the last thing you want is for your mom to look at your privates. I picked up an over-the-counter medicine for her. One dose takes care of the little buggers.

Month of February 2004

Sunday, February 8, 2004
I haven't written yet anything this month because I'm just not in the mood for whining and complaining about my troubles.

I had a nice day today. After chores and the grocery store, I went to the library for a free concert of classical and romantic period guitar solos. Very nice. Later I went down to Tess's to give little Michael a present. He's three and boy is he a doll. I'm in love with him. He's got the look I really like in men -- fair skin, dark curly hair, dark eyes. (FYI: Joe has that look, Don doesn't) His favorite birthday present was a piggy bank and bag of pennies and nickles, from Grandpa. Michael, apparently, likes money and takes it from wherever he can find it -- mommy's purse, his sibling's piggy banks, etc. When he'd put his coins in his new bank, I shook it saying "Money Money Money" and he thought that was great.

Kendall, Michaela and I are having a nice time together, just hanging around. They come into my room and into the kitchen to talk to me. We watched Clueless together yesterday. Very cute movie. With Rhiannon gone there's more space for them.

Okay, here comes a complaint: My brother's been telling me about a marriage retreat coming up in our area called Retrouville. It is designed especially for troubled marriages. He knows of my troubles and is encouraging me to go, but you know what? As long as Don doesn't care to contribute financially to the family, I'm not interested in working out our differences. I'm just not. I don't care to have a good relationship with a freeloader.

Tuesday, February 10, 2004
In all honesty, he's not a total freeloader. I can count on him to keep my car going -- my '74 Saab 900 which he fixed up for me. All we have is very old Saabs because that's all he can work on. And what's weird is that even though he works on old cars all day and into the night, most of our cars don't work that well. I had to rent a car to go down to New Mexico to get Rhiannon because he didn't think mine could make the trip. What does he really do out in the garage all day?

On another note: I am such an idiot. I'm given many many opportunities to get to know people and I usually don't take them because I'm always thinking about how insecure I am. So today, there I am in the same room with Deborah Jinn, MacArthur winner and possible future Nobel prize winner, creator of the Fermionic Condensate, a new form of matter. It was a small room and there's weren't many of us, but I didn't say anything to her, not even "Congratulations."

Wednesday, February 11, 2004
Drawing class this semester is very different from last semester. There are a lot of loudmouth know-it-alls in there this time. It's hard to get a word in edgewise. One girl, Rachel, had a lot to say during the critique about her work and other's work too. Too bad her work wasn't very good. My scribble picture, Still Life in Blue, turned out very well. I am proud of it.

I'm doing Tarot more consistently. I bought four new decks in the past few days. I can't help myself! I'm working with the Voyager Tarot just now -- a busy, jumbled deck, not nearly as beautiful as most reviews say, but I am getting helpful readings. I've also been studying Tarot spreads. I usually do a one-card spread because I'm such a newbie at this - ask a question, draw a card for the answer - but I've learned a little more and and am trying spreads with more cards now. I did a five-card spread on Tuesday on the situation with Joe and me. Yes, I know, I promised to never think of him again and obviously doing a Tarot reading on him doesn't help me toward my goal, however, it is a very interesting subject and a fun one for readings.

I did a "Past Present Future" reading with five cards and my Hanson-Roberts deck.

TABLE HERE

Dailies

Sunday, February 8, 2004
I haven't written yet anything this month because I'm just not in the mood for whining and complaining about my troubles.

I had a nice day today. After chores and the grocery store, I went to the library for a free concert of classical and romantic period guitar solos. Very nice. Later I went down to Tess's to give little Michael a present. He's three and boy is he a doll. I'm in love with him. He's got the look I really like in men -- fair skin, dark curly hair, dark eyes. (FYI: Joe has that look, Don doesn't) His favorite birthday present was a piggy bank and bag of pennies and nickles, from Grandpa. Michael, apparently, likes money and takes it from wherever he can find it -- mommy's purse, his sibling's piggy banks, etc. When he'd put his coins in his new bank, I shook it saying "Money Money Money" and he thought that was great.

Kendall, Michaela and I are having a nice time together, just hanging around. They come into my room and into the kitchen to talk to me. We watched Clueless together yesterday. Very cute movie. With Rhiannon gone there's more space for them.

Okay, here comes a complaint: My brother's been telling me about a marriage retreat coming up in our area called Retrouville. It is designed especially for troubled marriages. He knows of my troubles and is encouraging me to go, but you know what? As long as Don doesn't care to contribute financially to the family, I'm not interested in working out our differences. I'm just not. I don't care to have a good relationship with a freeloader.

Tuesday, February 10, 2004
In all honesty, he's not a total freeloader. I can count on him to keep my car going -- my '74 Saab 900 which he fixed up for me. All we have is very old Saabs because that's all he can work on. And what's weird is that even though he works on old cars all day and into the night, most of our cars don't work that well. I had to rent a car to go down to New Mexico to get Rhiannon because he didn't think mine could make the trip. What does he really do out in the garage all day?

On another note: I am such an idiot. I'm given many many opportunities to get to know people and I usually don't take them because I'm always thinking about how insecure I am. So today, there I am in the same room with Deborah Jinn, MacArthur winner and possible future Nobel prize winner, creator of the Fermionic Condensate, a new form of matter. It was a small room and there's weren't many of us, but I didn't say anything to her, not even "Congratulations."

Wednesday, February 11, 2004
Drawing class this semester is very different from last semester. There are a lot of loudmouth know-it-alls in there this time. It's hard to get a word in edgewise. One girl, Rachel, had a lot to say during the critique about her work and other's work too. Too bad her work wasn't very good. My scribble picture, Still Life in Blue, turned out very well. I am proud of it.

I'm doing Tarot more consistently. I bought four new decks in the past few days. I can't help myself! I'm working with the Voyager Tarot just now -- a busy, jumbled deck, not nearly as beautiful as most reviews say, but I am getting helpful readings. I've also been studying Tarot spreads. I usually do a one-card spread because I'm such a newbie at this - ask a question, draw a card for the answer - but I've learned a little more and and am trying spreads with more cards now. I did a five-card spread on Tuesday on the situation with Joe and me. Yes, I know, I promised to never think of him again and obviously doing a Tarot reading on him doesn't help me toward my goal, however, it is a very interesting subject and a fun one for readings.

I did a "Past Present Future" reading with five cards and my Hanson-Roberts deck.
1
2
3
4
5More Distant Past Recent Past Present Immediate Future More Distant Future
I drew:
Judgment (judgment, redemption) Nine of Swords (guilt, worry, anxiety) The Devil Seven of Cups (choice, addiction)
Page of Swords (challenge)

Pretty incredible reading. The past HAS been one of both judgment and redemption -- he angry at me for being less than perfect, me feeling like my whole world is fixed because he's in it. And that Devil -- whatever else it means, it's got a picture of an estranged couple on it. Apparently I'll have to make some kind of choice in the near future. He may be getting in touch with me. This will lead to a challenge to my integrity.

Thursday, February 12, 2004
So, guess who called and left a message on my machine? There it is -- an opportunity to make a choice -- to see him or not. Well, if the future is any indication of the past, seeing Joe will lead to a period of emotional turmoil which I will have to work hard to overcome. It won't lead to a relationship of any kind. He probably called because he wants something. Therefore let's not bother.

Friday, February 13, 2004
Chili party today at work. Everyone who wanted to brought a pot of chili to share. We stuffed ourselves while three judges decided the best of the chilis. I brought a batch using a recipe I'd found on the internet. It was pretty good but it didn't win anything. It had lots of secret ingredients: brown sugar, beer, coffee and cocoa powder. I think I'll call it "Chili with Four Secret Ingredients" from now on. It will be my special recipe.

Sunday, February 15, 2004
I have been thinking that I'd follow the Diamond Approach as a spiritual path but I've discovered I can't afford it. They want money, and lots of it: $100 to join, $170 per month thereafter, individual sessions extra. Sheesh. I could be a Christian for nothing. Maybe spiritual paths are stupid. I definitely reject any spiritual path that leads to "God" since there's nobody there and if there were I wouldn't worship it.

I've been thinking something else -- that my marriage has put me in survival mode. All I want to do is survive: survive his bad moods, survive his verbal attacks, survive the lack of money, survive the loneliness. There's no growth, no self-actualization, no love or self-esteem. And I get all this because I married a Christian. You see why I've left Christianity.

Though, in all honesty, he tries. He struggles with depression and with being unable to cope with the pressures of his life, but he does try. Sometimes.

Wednesday, February 18, 2004
Art class is good. I finished Incoming Globes and am very proud of it. The other students are a talky bunch and I am having a good time in there.

There is no answer to be found in the cards, or in the stars, or in divination of any sort. The answer is within you or it is no where.

I wish Joe loved me. I wish that, 20 years ago, I'd moved back to California and married John.

But he doesn't and I didn't and there's nothing I can do about it.

Friday, February 20, 2004
I complain a lot about Don in this journal but here's a secret. He loves me more than I love him. He always has. He loved me first and when he's in a good mood, he loves me still. It was his love for me that sparked and fed mine for him, and when he turned mean, his bad tempers killed off the love I had.

Not a good day

I'm sick today. I'm grumpy. The house is a mess. Life sucks. I can't put my husband off all the time; well, I could, but I don't feel good about it, and my motto is to feel good, so I have to make love to him every now and then, but it doesn't work unless I pretend he's someone else; a stranger preferably. What kind of marriage is that? Crappy, that's what. I have an upset stomach and I'm tired and I'm bored. And I'm stuck. Christmas is coming, a holiday for which I have no affinity anymore. It's all just stuff I have to do, just like making love to my husband is something I have to do. I'd like to crawl off into a hole and just be alone.

Charity's Laws for a Life Well Lived

No fear, no self-doubt
Self-confidence and self-assurance are what it's all about. Do whatever you need to develop these qualities.
Awareness
Be aware of what's going on within you and around you in nature, in the world, and in the lives of others.
Authenticity
Drop the mask. Speak the truth. You are no one if you are not yourself.
Industry
Work hard at it! Throw yourself 100 percent into whatever you're doing. And stick to it! Talent grows with practice. Be disciplined in doing what you've chosen to do.
Excitement
Be excited about every moment, even about the small things. Let the simple things thrill you. And if things are dull, do something to make them interesting. Make all of life an adventure.
Connection
Love the one you're with. Tremendously. Passionately. Truly. Madly. Deeply. It feels good to love. But if that's too much, then make a connection. Collect somebody.
Mastery
Master a few things. Your choice, but do get good at them.
Habits
Have good habits. Then you won't always have to remind yourself. You'll do those boring little things automatically -- use sunscreen; eat salads and veggies; get enough sleep; exercise; drink water; save 10 percent; don't smoke -- those little things that over the long haul keep you healthy and happy.
Contribute
Be a contributor to the group. It's important to develop yourself so that you are a worthwhile and worthy member. In my case, it's "have something to say." Prove yourself worthy.
Challenge
Do something difficult. Stretch yourself. "We choose to do these things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard."
Insight, Learning and Discovery
Think. And learn. And make discoveries. And be curious about the world around you.
Forgiveness
Your adversaries are your friends.

Tons of clothes

Today is the Day After Thanksgiving - supposedly the biggest shopping day of the year. I popped into my favorite thrift store today and picked some shirts and a couple pairs of pants, all designer name and very nice. Cost $5.60, quite the bargain. I love my favorite thrift store. I love buying stuff and not worrying about the cost.

So, anyway, back at home I organized my closet a little and laid out what I'll be wearing for the next two weeks. I wonder how many different things I have to wear, total? I have a ton of clothes. How long could I go, wearing something new every day, before I had to wear something I've already worn? I don't know the answer to that a question. Probably two months at least.

I remember my first year in junior high (boy was that a long time ago). Up to then I'd only ever gone to Catholic school where we wore uniforms every day. For public school, my mom took me school shopping and we bought five different outfits for me, more than I'd ever had or needed before. Every Monday found me in the white shirt with orange vest, every Tuesday in the blue with white, and so on. I wonder if anyone ever noticed. I was pretty shy and kept to myself.

Meal, Ready to Eat

Rhiannon brought an MRE back from AmeriCorps with her. It was pretty good. MREs, as you undoubtedly know, are what they serve the Armed Forces when they're out in the field. Each MRE is a package of one meal for one soldier. Ours was Chicken Salsa. It included a flameless ration heater -- a little water-activated heater -- pour water onto the unit and it generates heat! There was plenty of food -- chicken with salsa, mexican rice, a vegetable cracker, jalapeno cheese sauce, hot cocoa, iced tea mix, shortbread cookies, and a pack of M&Ms. Oh, and the tiniest bottle of Tabasco sauce you ever saw, about the size of my thumb joint. Rhiannon says that if the Army recruiter who came to her high school had cracked open an MRE for the kids, she'd be in Iraq right now.

A very icy road

It's snowing out, and icy. While taking Kendall to her friend's I slid off the road into a ditch. I did not slam into the SUV which had stopped immediately ahead to help a motorist who was already in the ditch. Nor did I hit the people who were standing around. Nor did I slam into a thick wooden fence post, thereby smashing up my front end and ruining my dental work. I came to rest gently against the post instead. Several people stopped to ask if we needed help, causing a third car to run off the road. It was so incredibly dangerous out there. It's amazing that so little went wrong. I called my hubby who came out and picked me up. I'll go back for my car when the snow has melted and not before. Not one minute before.

It's great to be Blonde

Even though the highlights came out of a bottle, and I didn't do all that great a job on them, it's still great to be blonde. Especially when you have long hair, the way I do. :)

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

Change your heart
Look around you
Change your heart
It will astound you
I need your lovin'
Like the sunshine

Everybody's gotta learn sometime
Everybody's gotta learn sometime
Everybody's gotta learn sometime

This was a strange movie. Strange strange strange.

AmeriCorps withdrawal

I'm not coping well with being away from AmeriCorps. And I was only there two days! It's all in my head, obviously.

I'll sing it one last time for you
Then we really have to go
You've been the only thing that's right
In all I've done.

I loved the AmeriCorps kids. I loved the campus. I loved the song they sang at the graduation ceremony. The whole thing was a fantastic experience.

To think I might not see those eyes
It makes it so hard not to cry
And as we say our long goodbyes
I nearly do.

I'm probably experiencing withdrawal because -- well, I honestly don't know why. I just know I wish I were back there. Everything felt right when I was there.

And I can barely look at you
But every single time I do
I know we'll make it anywhere
Away from here.

For two days I was an AmeriCorps kid. I got things done. I took life as it came. I slept on the couch with the lights on and people talking. I was part of a team. I could do anything.

Light up, light up
As if you have a choice
Even if you cannot hear my voice
I'll be right beside you dear.
(Run, Snow Patrol)

Why can't I drop these last five pounds? she wondered as she savored a Lindsor truffle.

Why can't I drop these last five pounds? she mused as she nibbled a cookie.

My Daily Check

Work is going well. I've got a nice team, nice job, nice future. I enjoy the combination of art and tech.

Photography is going well, too. I'm learning, anyway. Hold the camera steady! Don't bother taking pics at dusk -- it's too dark! Hold the camera steady! Go for the unusual angle! Be careful with focus and light metering! And hold the camera steady!

I'm having trouble getting my daily check done, mainly because I have so many things to do on there that I'll be hopping to get them all done. I don't look forward to more work when I get home from work. Whereas reading and photography are fun hobbies, the others seem like work. Plus I've got tons of other stuff to do, too.

Okay, how about if we make it one hour of "work" only? Not counting the exercise part.

- I want to meditate
- I want to read one article
- I want to draw
- I want to journal and do inquiry
- I want to do tarot

At 15 minutes each, that comes to 1 1/4 hours per day, plus various reading and exercise. There, that's not so bad, is it? That's not much journaling time, but I'll write fast.

I'm having nice chats with Kendall these days. She asks me to crack her back, or massage it, so we get some touch time. Meanwhile, Michaela is a Grumpy Gus. She's 15, and apparently can barely stand to talk to me or be in the same room with me.

I know Rhiannon got into drugs and sex. I hope she's not doing that while in AmeriCorps, and I hope she doesn't fall back into them when she returns.

Okay, gotta go. My 15 minutes of journaling time is up.

Lucky Don

Good day at work. Lots of talk about the problems we face, plus a goal-setting session with Malinda and Will and Burton.

Don stayed out till 7:00, working at his friends' auto repair shop and probably getting high after work. He's lucky I'm here to care for the kids.

Let me repeat that:

He's lucky I come home and stay home. He's lucky I work. He's lucky I buy the groceries. He's lucky I take care of the kids. Otherwise there wouldn't be a roof over our heads, food in the fridge, or a parent at home.

I sound bitter, don't I? Today I am bitter. It must be very nice to be a teenager the way he is -- no responsibilities, Mom taking care of everything.

It's hell to be bitter. I don't want to go there again. I've spent too much time in hell already.

No god, no life beyond this one. This sun only, these stars, these flowers, this grass, these birds singing. Then darkness falls and all is lost.

Kerry blames Bush for (fill in blank)

Campaign promises and campaign criticism are in the same vein, aren't they? Both untrue, both extreme, both said in an attempt to get elected. I'm personally sick of Kerry's constant criticism of Bush.

First, there's nothing easier that criticising the job someone else is doing. If he does end up with the job himself, he'll find it's not quite as easy as he makes it sound. But you know what? Kerry should know that already. He's been a senator for twenty years. He should know how hard it is to get the job done. Or has he not been paying attention?

Second, Kerry's criticism is generally untrue. He leaves out half the story or places the blame where it doesn't belong. Take his charge that the military doesn't have the equipment it needs to get the job done. Turns out our soldiers don't have adequate protective gear so their parents are buying it for them. Kerry says that's all Bush's fault. He doesn't remind us that he himself has consistently voted to cut our military. He doesn't remind us that he turned down Bush's request for more military spending in Iraq. He hasn't taken any responsibility for the situation. He's a blamer and god, do I hate blamers.

Here's another example: the vaccine shortage. Kerry lays the blame for that on Bush, of course. He doesn't mention that ten years ago, there were 25 vaccine makers in the U.S. But then the Clinton administration passed a wonderful new law requiring vaccine makers to sell their vaccines at half price to make them more available to the disenfranchised poor. Sounds good, doesn't it? Sounds all beneficial and helpful, eh? Unfortunately twenty vaccine makers couldn't survive the resulting monetary shake-out. They went bankrupt. Now the remaining five vaccine makers struggle to meet demand. Who's fault is it? According to Kerry, it's Bush's fault.

How will I make my mark on the world?

Here I am, life half over, and suddenly I'm thinking of the bigger picture. In the twenty years leading up to this moment, I was happy to do my best to be a good and godly wife and mother. But that's gone now, taken from me by my husband, of all people. He doesn't care if I'm a godly wife and mother. He wants me to work (which I do because he doesn't) and be his mother only.

So the destruction of my dream has also destroyed my faith.What is there for me now, now that hearth and home are taken? I want to replace them with something bigger.

Writers leave their mark, as do counselors. I've already written a book - a children's religious book, which ten years later is still in print and a popular little book in its niche so I'm told. I can't tell you the title because this blog is written under a pseudonym.

I plan to draw a set of tarot cards to help people on their journey. I'd better get cracking on that, as I'm still a beginner at drawing.

My photography and iceskating are fun, but those are personal hobbies, not things that will really effect others.

There will not be a Draft

Kerry and his supporters are lying to you about the draft. There are no plans to re-instate the draft.

A spokeswoman for the Defense Department told CNSNews.com there is no intention to have a draft, nor does the Pentagon want one.

"Secretary Rumsfeld has said all along we do not need a draft. That's our stance and it will continue to be," said Lt. Col. Ellen Krenke, a Pentagon spokeswoman. "We don't need one. We're recruiting the number of people we need and the quality of people we need to perform all of our missions."

Bush also has dismissed the rumor, telling a questioner during the Oct. 8 presidential debate, "We're not going to have a draft, period. The all-volunteer Army works."

The Star

I took the dog for a walk today along Coal Creek. It was dark out. The path was difficult to see. As I walked I realized how what I was doing was a metaphor for my life -- walking in darkness along a trail whose end I cannot see, able to discern only the bend immediately ahead.

The leaves whispered in the trees above. Dead leaves and gravel crunched beneath my feet. What secret did the leaves tell one another? Perhaps they spoke of their approaching death, or of the oncoming winter. The pine trees had told them about winter, for of course they themselves have never seen it. The pine trees know immortality. They've seen many many winters. The leaves of the deciduous trees will never see even one. They will die before that time comes. What do the leaves think of it? What tales do they pass amongst themselves? Perhaps only jokes and gossip. Maybe leaves don't worry themselves with something they cannot change. Maybe they don't worry about death. Maybe they enjoy their day in the sun then let it go, knowing that life goes in seasons.

Whereas I walk in the sunlight that is not light and long for the darkness in which stars shine. That's what this surrounding darkness does for me -- I can see the light of the Star because of it.

The star. The beacon. The guide. It stands for hope of renewal and renewal of hope, the waters of life poured forth. In the darkness can be seen the light.

I don't walk in total darkness. The Star shines forth, guiding me.

Giving to Beggars

Today I gave a couple bucks to a guy begging at a stop light. He was a healthy-looking, cheerful guy, late twenties or early thirties, the perfect candidate for the question, "Why don't you get a job?" I didn't ask him though. I've decided I'm not going to worry about that kind of thing.

Maybe he was scamming me. Maybe he's going to spend the money on alcohol or drugs. Maybe he's in a tough spot that he'll get out of by next month or next year. Maybe his wife died and he just doesn't care any more. Maybe he's turned his back on the whole rat race and has embraced the Rainbow Family lifestyle.

I don't know the guy's situation. It's not the first time I've given to beggars and it won't be the last. The guy was begging on a street corner, for chrissake, and I gave him a couple bucks.

Dream

It's Friday night and I'm kicking around the house by myself. I decide to go out and find some company. I go up to campus and enter a building where clubs and groups hold their meetings, thinking I can probably find something fun going on in here. The building is a maze inside - narrow halls going this way and that. Here's a group that seems to be of elementary age children. I keep looking. Here's a room full of people doing something with sleeping bags. They all have red shirts on and are each in a gray sleeping bag. They are all lined up neatly, as if in formation. Now they change their formation and wiggle into a freer, looser pattern. Now they huddle up into a mound. They wriggle apart. Two of them have something unusual going on. Their sleeping bags are open. Their legs are spread. They are having a baby. I watch one more closely. The head emerges. It's a fully grown head. It has hair. It can speak. The woman looks very strange with a head sticking out of her. The rest emerges. Its small but fully grown. A bit later the "child" is brought over to me. I speak to it. Her, actually. She answers me, still feeling a bit shy from being so new and freshly born.

What did it all mean? I'm birthing adults, possibly referring to my children. They are teens now, not kids any longer. Notice how I reject the elementary age kids. It's not babies I had, really, it is adults. It's only for a little that they are babies, just long enough to trick us. For the rest of their life, they are adults. Am I explaining myself?

Second Presidential Debate

The second debate just ended. It was great. We can say without doubt that Kerry is the better debater. He expresses himself well and he's got an impressive array of facts immediately available. I read somewhere that his debate coach at Yale said Kerry was the second best debater he's ever taught; the first was William F. Buckley.

Bush did better this time around. He was more animated, nor did he repeat himself as much as he did the first time, though he's simply not as good a speaker as Kerry. For all his shortcomings as a speaker, however, I am convinced that he would be, and is, the better leader.

He said a few things that were telling. For example,in answer to the question about stem-cell research, he was clear that we are somehow trying to find the balance between ethics and science. Kerry didn't make that distinction, though it is a really important one.

Kerry's endless criticism of Bush became wearing. There's nothing easier to do than criticize. Kerry was full of promises about how he'd do better, but rather vague how he'd actually do it. He has to be vague, of course. He's been a senator for twenty years, surely he's observed the difficulties of the presidential job. He knows it is incredibly complex. He knows that the promises will be very difficult to fulfill. It's easy to make them, though.

Bush seems to be the kind of man who has strong convictions, and who, after consultation with advisors, will make a decision or take a stand that may be unpopular; who won't back off from what he feels is right to do. I appreciate that about him.

What if all of life were fun?

I've got a million things to do tomorrow, almost all of them in the fun category.

Non-fun: grocery shop, unclutter Rhiannon's room, do chores, shop with Michaela.

Fun: blog, go shooting for photography project, develop web page for photography project, ice skate, birthday party for Sara.

Q: What if all of life were fun?
A: It can be, if you choose to enjoy everything. Life is a game. Play for fun.