Going to the Pawn Shop before Christmas

The days sure do go by fast. I blink and it's morning again. I blink again and it's bedtime. Blink-blink and it's over. So, I've got to get on the ball, and make the most of it. What the hell does that mean anyway... Get on the Ball?!? What Ball?!? And it's round...How are you supposed to get on It?!?

It's was yesterday, and the bills rose, and the paychecks and bonuses were smaller than expected. I was on the phone with various companies, delaying bills and making payment arrangements...very holiday spirit like. It almost looked like there wasn't going to be a Christmas for my child after all.

But, I always have a plan. I always have a way to make money. There are ways to squeeze blood from a turnip...yes, there is.

I keep a small stockpile of shit for the dreaded, horrible pawn shop. Various gifts of gold that my family has given me over the years. I don't wear gold, and have never liked it. But, I keep these things. Sometimes, I regift some of the pieces, but mostly I just keep it. Probably out of family guilt. A secret stockpile bedded deep in an unused, collect-all drawer.

(If you thinking, now, that you might break into my house to look for this secret drawer, don't bother. Yes, I am aware that keeping things in a drawer is an invite. But, I don't worry about that. It's not worth the time of getting caught for it, or the dog bite you might get, or the shotgun blast taken in the heart or the ass...it's just not worth that much. I'm not worth that much, that's why I can keep it in a drawer.)

I worked as much holiday magic on the bills as possible. And then I sighed, and put the pencil and calculator up. I was so tired and I rubbed my eyes and sighed some more. I went to the gold drawer. I announced that it would be pawn shop time. I gingerly sorted what I was willing to part with for the sake of my child's happiness. Dividing, collecting, remembering...There are reasons that this crap is hidden. None of it is really worth that much. These aren't heirlooms or anything like that. My family doesn't really do heirlooms. But, it was the best they could do, they gave these things to me. These things often represented the poorness of my family. The fact that none of us ever truly got above Wal-Mart gold necklaces. They also represented, to me, my lack of my family's understanding of me. Always the gifts of gold that I would never wear. Always the stuff that I disliked or was uncomfortable with. The girl/woman that I would never be for them. What girl/woman doesn't like gold and diamonds?!? What was wrong with me?!? How I would never fit into that image of the norm. Yes, all these things that I kept hidden.

I was taking them to the Pawn Shop. That is very much the norm for my family. That white trash part of us all that maybe I'm never to escape. I loathe the Pawn Shop. We all have that in common. The pawn shops are all owned and operated by bad, bad people, who pray on the desperateness of others. Short changing type people. And they usually don't stop with that theme when they're off the clock...they remain that type of person in every part of their lives. It's just hanging in the air of the Pawn Shop when you walk in. Yes, you have to be a special person to work at the Pawn Shop. Yes, indeed.

And the racket never changes. I walked in with my sack of gold. The counter person, per usual, asks how much I wanted for the stuff. I don't know why they bother asking. They're never going to give you exactly what you want for it. They are ALWAYS going to lowball you. I bit my tounge from saying that I would like three million dollars for the lot. Yes, three million dollars, that's what I'd like. That's funny.

And then comes the examining of all your pieces and the "back and forth" discussion among the counter people. One being the giving and caring type...and the other people the bad one, shaking their head.

Jesus, Sweet Jesus...cut the act, and just tell me what you're going to give me already with that. I tried not to roll my eyes, and look to impatient. I was going to be the cool cucumber type. I was already in know about exactly how much this crap was worth. I was already in the know about how much crack this could buy me. The street value of my gold items wasn't much...so just give me the offer already.

The owner came over as well. His hair was long in the back, balding on top, with a slight comb over. He took out his jewelry monocle, to closely examine my wares. I think I might have died right on the spot if he'd bitten any of my pieces or rubbed any of them harshly on his giant, and I mean giant, belt buckle that was holding up his straight, bootcut Wranglers. As though he would really know quality shit when he saw it. I was bringing in the good stuff. I don't own the good stuff!!!

At the Pawn Shop, you can either get a loan, or you can sell your items. I hadn't said which on I wanted yet. However, I was told that despite the place being laden with gold items, the owner was not buying gold at this time because the taxes were so high on it. Poor, poor Pawn Shop owner.

Let me translate: What this really meant is that the owner would only give out loans on gold and diamonds and wait to see if you defaulted on your loan, and then he's get the goods at a cheaper price and sell your stuff and regain his investment, even with the HUGE taxes that he'd have to pay. Poor Pawn Shop owner and his giving spirit...all that he did for all of us in our time of need.

Let me translate again: Let me stick my expensive, dead animal skin, probably snake or crocodile, boots up your ass for the holiday, you desperate Christmas Fuck.

Now, the truth is, also, if you're a female going to the pawn shop you get screwed even more. It's an unwritten rule of the pawn shop males. It just is. And it's a double screw to you, if your pawn shop owner is one of the comb over males. They can't really help it. You just have to be aware of this rule and make certain accommodations for it.

(If you meet one or more of these qualifications to the rules, please do not bother posting back to me. I have statistics. And deep down you know what you are. Don't play.)

So, I got a loan on my pile of shit. I left feeling dirty and shitty. Blah. I would default on my loan. I had gotten rid of my secret stash drawer, and I wouldn't got back for it, just not to have to go back in there. Like there's going to be a shortage of shit that I stock pile in my life, and like there's going to be a shortage of shitty pawnshop owners in town. Give me a break already with that!!!

But, my child...there's nothing I won't do for him. Nope. He will have his Christmas. He will have his presents. I had made sure of that. He would not know of crappy humans, or disfunctional families, or bare Christmas trees or stockings, or big bills and small paychecks. Nope. He wouldn't know about any of that stuff. That part was cool. So, Mr. Pawn Shop you didn't really get one over on the Holiday Spirit afterall. What you got is a pile of crappy jewelry. Good luck with that.

My son was with me at the pawn shop. He just thought we were shopping. He's too small to really know what going on there. As we were leaving, the Pawn Shop owner gave my son a candy cane, and told me that I have a beautiful daughter. My son has long hair. But he definitely looks like a boy, just with long hair. I told my son to leave the candy cane, and I reminded my son that we never take candy from strangers. My son put the candy cane down, and made a face at the bad, bad, comb over man. I smiled sweetly and my son and I left holding hands. Ahhhh. Good times, good times!

Last night, I dreamed weird dreams of floods, through towns with my mother and grandmother. I was small and holding their hands... Picking through bargain basements in old towns with big keys and cobblestone streets. I dreamed of clipping coupons. I dreamed of the old Green Stamp booklets, and the scrap piles of cheap leftover cloth at the sewing shops. Everything we ate came in cans and boxes.

Then, I dreamed of the ocean, and surfing with a couple of close friends. The surf was scary and fast, the water was dark. The surf was loud and peaceful. We searched and searched. We were searching to find a secret water spot to surf that was supposed to be dangerous and beautiful. We found it and some rich person owned it. We surfed there anyway because no one should own the ocean. I was wearing cheap, flowing, clothes and I had on thick, red, glitter eye shadow. We didn't fit in with the other surfers, but we didn't get caught. My one friend looked so beautiful in my dream. But this friend always looks beautiful.

I also dreamed of all of the recently beached whales. They had been beached because of all of the sonar research. I dreamed of my friend who had accepted a job doing work with that. I dreamed of his soul returning as a beached whale in my surf dream. I couldn't help him either. He was being punished and dying for it.

These dreams that would haunt me this morning when I awoke. All of my dreams that are particularly vivid and colorful, always haunt me in the morning.

It's Christmas Eve morning now. I'm smoking and drinking coffee. Will I stop smoking this year? Probably not. Something has to get me.

I've been thinking about this year. All the fighting. The tsuamis, the earthquakes, the floods, the wars, the bombs, the tortures everyone's okay with because it's not them and the people who are tortured aren't real anyway because we don't know them personally or see them under their hoods, the Government scandles, the ousted leaders, the mass graves, the lying, the big businesses fighting to keep their right to not let people take lunches or to lock them in overnight, the big businesses paying people pennies, child labor, child prostitution rings, cyber child molesters, the distructions of the rainforests for nice expensive woods, and the people that died in civil wars for that wood, the people who are homeless- numbers growing, the old people who can't pay their property taxes or use their heat, the wiretaps, the dead animals, the species that we will never know of because they're just gone so we can drive Hummers, the drilling in the forest for gas and oil, the lack of education, and the hatred for my gay and lesbian friends, the closing of borders to prevent workers from taking jobs that no one wants anyway, the stylishness of adopting children from overseas while our own children are dying, poor people's addictions because they can't afford a vacation, drug companies that make too much money, the real reason our birds are sick, stem cell research to cheat death and keep the world's population at an all time high, nuclear crap we don't need, cloning and secret cloning, etc. I have a big list, I could keep going.

Yes, every year, I pray. I pray that God isn't just a big scam. I pray that the bigger family of the human race will get it together and treat eachother a bit nicer. Am I some sort of hippie? No, I'm not. I'm not a hippie. I'm a realist. We just don't need all this shit. And every day I am throughly embarassed by some human acting out...usually for money...but still, just acting out. We should all be embarrassed. And then there's God, pick a God, who was to remind us to behave better...but it doesn't work. Humans don't listen.

Hurry up a trample people for land scrapes and the best drinking water. HURRY UP!!!! Death and weight gain is just an illusion, we can clone you and drug you to make you feel better. HURRY UP!!!! The 80% off sales are the only sales ever, fuck Jesus cause we've got to save the economy!!!! HURRY UP!!!! HURRY UP!!!! The riding lawnmower needs gas and the prices are rising!!!!!!Soon we'll be out of salmon and furry bears!!!!!HURRY UP!!!!!Cut of the breasts of that woman because her family owns land that there might be real diamonds on!!!!!!HURRY UP!!!!! Pose with those naked, butt cheek-upped, hooded males that we're tourturing!!! This is a once in a lifetime chance to be mean and have fun, and blame it on someone else!HURRY UP!!!!

I'm embarassed for us all. That's what I think of every year. There's so much of it, that if you don't think of it, you're one of the people that's the problem. What can't we round up those people? Is it in all of us?

We should be embarassed. We completely and constantly fuck ourselves!!! Yes, every year, I think about how we all fuck ourselves!!!! Christmas is a joke. I really believe that.

Am I some depressed Christmas meanie? No. I'm not. Again, I'm a realist. I view this through very real, live thoughts, sounds, emotions, and witnessing events. Yes, a realist.

Where's my hope, you say?

Oh, yes, it's there, too. It is laying with the wrapped presents and smiles and loud laughters that I will have tomorrow morning with my child. My hope lies with him, that hope that we will all get it together before I have to turn this world over to him to run and make decisions with. It could happen. There is something real in that as well.

Yes, I felt my hope in my pocket of cash, leaving the pawn shop. I felt my hope, in my dreams of red glitter eyeshadow. I felt my hope. It's there.

All the Apples I hold onto that God says I don't need

What to do with myself this morning. Yes, what to do. (Please, no need to feel free to tell me. No, comments from the peanut gallery.)

I need to clean my house. I need to make gifts. I need to pay bills. Yes, very busy. Where to start with such lovely chores to pick from.

I had a few very busy days...couldn't blog at all.

This week, at work, I was told that we could not sing all of the selected songs. The initial selection was raped and pillaged to include intelligent design and the likes. With the two Christians in tow on this, I was told that "they didn't want to push Christianity on anyone.....BUT...."

So, there was, the "but"...which just leads to the, either the unspoken or ever so carefully politically correct... "we're going to do it anyway." I could have fought about it. But, I just didn't want to. With die hard Christians, true to point, they will, in fact, miss the point. Blinded by their own misguided faith, not by the faith itself, but the twisting of it to meet their needs. I've read the book, too.

My hope this season, was for all of us at work, to be a little bit silly, yes, silly with eachother. Once you have been silly with another human, all things can become close. Tragedy and Silliness are the two emotions that can draw people together. They release the fear of embarrassment or self-protection. And since we've all had enough tragedy this year, I was opting for silliness.

I also was hoping to include everyone. There are non-Christians at work. Why should they not be included in the good cheer and good spirit?

I also, I had already made sure to include these Christians in the song list. There were spots allotted for their purely Christian songs. I had included them already. Now, we had to not include everyone else, for the most part. I was very sad and disappointed. My Holiday Spirit was a bit shaken for a few minutes.

Also, these two, just love to sing. Not that the new, revised song list was to make sure that they had a bit more of the spotlight at the party. Surely, not that. I had to wonder if there was a tiny bit of personal ego there. Which, again, is stupid to me, as the Spirit is not about personal spotlight and ego.

It was going to be ok if we were all off key, and a bit disheveled. It was going to be ok if we weren't a professional singing group. We were a bunch of people at an office, just singing for the hell of it.

Now, the talk of a pitch pipe and Jesus.

We are now down to only one silly song. One person admitted that we couldn't go gungho with naming Jesus outright, as there are laws that protect the non-Christians. Their onslaught only toned down by laws...not the being caring and sharing, which IS stated in the Bible...many times, but laws. Laws intendend to make sure people behave themselves around other people.

This is one of the reasons, I keep my faith to myself. I do not want to be the enforcer. Jesus was not an enforcer...he just walked around talking nicely and people chose to hang out with him.

I don't need the statues in front of Governement building to remind me of the Spirit. I don't need people at stores saying the exact right code words, to remind me of the Spirit. I do not need to join a gang of churchgoers to make me behave myself. I don't even need the church building itself to remind me of the blade of grass that growning or the fact that I can take a breath...that are miracles...These things, every year, I don't need.

If more Christians did a little bit less of the forcing of their religious practices, then maybe more people would be apt to join in.

But, will I be there singing? Yes, I will don my red hat, and I will sing the verses that I want to sing, and I will politely listen to the ones that I don't want to sing. I'm not feeling completely defeated. Maybe these two really need this enforcement and justification for themselves. I can be compassionate enough to them to let them have this.

Some people, in other places strap bombs to themselves, to their bodies, for all different religions, and we still don't listen. As there are pictures of a bomb shredded foot still tied into it's running shoe, sans body, all that's left of that human, who will not be returning home or going to work, or standing in line, to buy that latte after all, still we do not learn. If that doesn't get us...then maybe nothing will.

We still will not set the example of caring and sharing. Is there nothing that can't be overcome by a little sharing and tolerance? How about sharing and minding your own business. What about that route? It's not just Jesus that spoke about that, lots of religions have that theme in common.

It's not the Spirit of the Holidays that gets me down...it's the hypocrisy that gets to me.

As there are people among us who feel that there is a giant war on taking Christ out of Christmas...and they have threatened to boycott stores that say Happy Holidays, instead of Merry Christmas...well good for you. GOOD FOR YOU!@#@!@!!!

What in the hell are you doing shopping anyway?

To me, the amount of commercialism of the fucking supposed birthday of Christ, which was really sometime in July, and moved to take over the pagan Winter Solstice, anyway, the commercialism is paramount. So good for you Christians who are not shopping!!!! Good for you! Even the Pope said as much. I'm not Catholic, but he did make a great point recently.

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20051211/ap_on_re_eu/pope_nativity

"In today's consumer society, this time (of the year) is unfortunately subjected to a sort of commercial 'pollution' that is in danger of altering its true spirit, which is characterized by meditation, sobriety and by a joy that is not exterior but intimate," the pope said in his traditional Sunday blessing."

But, maybe there's some hope after all.

I've recently read where we're roping in the Patriot Act in lieu of protecting our civil rights. That's a nice turn of events for the holidays. I don't really own anything but my civil rights...so that a nice gift. The money spent on wire taping my house or checking my hospital records, or viewing my reading list, only to find out that I am a boring sort, who's not doing much of anything, yes, the money spent on this could be used to feed several of the growing number of homeless people that I see standing more and more on my city street corners. These people we have defeated to make into possible criminals who will need to steal to eat or stay warm. Spend the money on that.

And also, there's been some articles on how playdoh and cut off fingers can fool biometric securities. Which I also found promising for the holidays. I'm poor. I do not want to have to scan my eyeball to get into my house. That's just weird. It's weird to spend my time making and taking such extravagant measures for securities. If you need this level of security, well, in my opinion, maybe you own too much crap, and should be involved in a little more caring and sharing. Does anyone know the statistics on the wealthy people who need this type of security?

And besides, for every human invention, there will always be another human invention to defeat and make obsolete the first human invention. There will always be criminals. Unless we take the route of not making things enticing enough for people to want to steal. But, I suppose trying to make things not enticing isn't a very enticing route to take.

We have become a society, a world, of Hurry Up and Get As Much Crap As Possible Stacked Up Before We Die. Well, maybe we've always been that way. Bonking each other on the head as cavemen for the better slice of mammoth...the warmer piece of fur, etc. Adam and Eve did eat the apple, didn't they? Too enticing, after being given paradise, to enticing just not to touch. Today this has become a fable, a story, not a lesson to learn and live by. And now we need biometrics to protect all of our shiny apples.

I'm not going to be able to keep up with all of that. I don't want to. I do not want your shiny apples.

I'm changing myself. I see that others are changing this season as well. We can be proud of ourselves for that. We can make Jesus and others like him, proud of us for that. Maybe, then, hanging on a cross, with giant pegs hammered into his body parts, starving and with thirst, waiting in the cooking sun to die, maybe that wouldn't be in vain after all. Please feel free to meditate on that image for a minute, then open your eyes to see if there's not some crap in your house you could let go of, or donate. I'm thinking about giving this a whirl.

So, maybe that's my goal. I will share and care what little I have. And this year not to let the hypocrisy of the holidays get me down, or make me loose sight of my intended good cheer.

Every can of peas has a story

I woke up at precisely four o'clock this morning. I don't remember dreaming. I was tired yesterday...worked hard...came home, made dinner, exercised, talked with my family...crashed out in my clothes, to the sounds of the television. I thought that I might just close my eyes for a minute...just for a minute...then it was four in the morning...and my body was done sleeping.

Yesterday seemed to whiz by so quickly that I'm not sure I can recall many specifics. It's a strange thing to have an entire day, and entire chunk of time, just gone without many recollections of it even happening.

The idea that our society, our planet, our birth, our universe is all connected by tiny little forces in amazingly interesting.

I fell asleep listing to the show NOVA. This particular NOVA was about String Theory. Something I've read about before. Physics is a bit interesting...not so much that I want to do the work of it...but I am interested in the results of other's works. Yes, lazy, perhaps. When you look at anything...say a pen...made of atoms...then your hand...made of atoms...your hand picking up the pen...atoms...motions, forces, particles, atoms, all of it. There is a lot going on in everything all of the time. We are more complicated and heroic than we believe. And to think that we are constantly evolving our greater consciousness. We will change these tiny forces as well. Everything we do, does have an impact or everything. This is a fact. Is it preordained? Unknown.

We are changing the physical universe all the time. This all leads credence to the metaphysical world, the incorporeal world, not being so immaterial after all. Sobering thought, perhaps for some. And this discussion, or train of thought makes every fairytale, every wish, every inventive thought a real living, material thing... as real as any solid rock. That there is no thing, nothing that is not without a body...everything being relevant and consequential.

Every, single thing having value in an actual material form. Incorporate this thinking with the chaos theory that is really about finding the underlying order in apparently random data. A giant file cabinet of activity, that's perhaps not as random as we believe on the surface. Even the trip to the grocery store, where a can of peas dropped out of your basket, to dent itself on the floor, and land back on the shelf where is started in the first place, for the next person to shrug and take the dented can - is filled with activity, and influence on a miniscule level. Random? Not Random? Influential, none the less. Was that can of peas already predestined to go somewhere else, because of some line in the universe? Or did you just create it's destiny? Think about your day...you've been busy.

As we are changing, is the pen mightier than the sword? Hard to make that call...anyone counting the atoms?

How will we choose to make our existence within these forces of nature and universe? How will I?

So, maybe there's no wonder why I couldn't remember the day. Very busy. Very busy.

Two quotes to leave you with:

"It's a lot of fun to explore a new medium, but even more exciting when the medium is evolving, because the newness is replenished by continual innovation."

http://www.superstringtheory.com/author.html

And

"Our society needs to be remade, not just just mended. The world only changes because we do."

- Marilyn Ferguson...The Aquarian Conspiracy: Personal and Social Transformation in the 1980s

I Prayed to The Aqua Gator that We Would All Still Have Jobs

I was only at work for four hours yesterday, as I had to go off to Physical Therapy. Only to find out that my physical therapy had been cancelled for about a week due to a paperwork hold up with the Texas Workforce Commission. There is evidently a written part in the ever so lovely new House Bill 7, that makes therapists have to get more authorization after you have authorization...double authorization for your Physical Therapy. I guess the Texas House does need to make sure that while our Tom Delay people are busy cheating the Government, I'm not off having fun in Physical Therapy and cheating the Government, too. I made some calls to hurry the process up. But, I would like it noted that Physical Therapy is not fun, ever. For the most part it is very painful and an annoying part of the process of healing. Tom Delay's cheating looks like it would have been the more fun route to take. I suppose I should have thought that out before I had my accident and shattered my leg bone into a million pieces the surgeon liked to refer to as shards.

I suppose I'm a bit annoyed by the poor people getting the ole fuck stick up the ass, so to speak.

The office is very tense. There will be layoffs this year. Right after Christmas. We all know about it. It's a small office, with some of the supposedly most trusted people who blab. No one's quit sure who's on the list. I'm worried. It's true. We all are. There are tears of worry in a few people's eyes. In fact, two people that I know, this is really going to fuck their lives up for a bit. A few dollars is truly going to fuck them. For as hard a year as it's been on the owners of the business, it's been harder on the rest of us as office staff. And in the case of these two particular staff, they are the good ones, who have bent over backwards time and time again to do their work, and sometimes other people's as well.

One of the higher ups complained about his furniture yesterday. It was top priority. He simply had to have new furniture!!!! This one is a particular sort. He's always been a complainer and a person with a self-imposed sense of entitlement. And none of us knows exactly how to tell him, that when you self-impose entitlement not very many people are going to take you seriously. On the other hand, most of us recognize that his money and his self-entitlement is all he's got. No real personality or cool stuff, just that. The personality of a wet noodle, or a piece of carpet...that's what he's like. Hard to want to strip what little he's got away from him. So, we all let him fret about having a new piece of furniture, and pretend like it's a top priority in the day. Yes, yes, not to worry...we're all on this. Absolutely!!! Not to worry!!!

Poor rich fuck.

And another higher up complained, behind a closed door that we all could hear through, about the agony of one's spirituality and having to make these layoffs. Oh, the horror felt in it all. The guilt, the agony...the sadness... And how sweet, such and such was...but there was a cost of $3,000 dollars a month to the business.

(Without that money, how would we buy mechanical pencils instead of the regular No. 2 ones...How? How I ask you???? How are we going to be able to pay our society club bills???? I have to eat the food there that tastes like old dead money!!!! I have to!!! If I'm not seen there, my reputation will fall in the eyes of all the other rich old fucks! Oh, the spirituality of it all!!!!)

Oh, the heartbreak of it all.

Well, at a salary of $250,000 per year, how much spirituality does that buy a person? I would like to think that if I were making $250,000 per year, that I could afford to curb my lifestyle a bit, in order not to completely wreck someone else's home. I would like to think that I wouldn't feel the need to protect my lifestyle so much that I would need to wreck other people's families. Maybe, I'm not thinking of how expensive one's electricity bill or food bill or gas bill, (the basics of living), gets at that level of salary. I know it costs a lot to heat a huge house full of empty rooms that one is never going to need or use...maybe I'm not cutting people enough slack. That could be true.

But, yesterday what's all doom and gloom. I did go to Community Pool to exercise. This is what you graduate to after pool Physical Therapy.

Now, there are politics that come with Community Pool. And one has to tread lightly, and navigate carefully through it all. You have to pick you alliances and what your offences, etc., among all the retarded people, the gimpy people, the head cases, and the old people. It's the old people that you have to what out for.

There are two Aqua Gators in the pool. These are underwater treadmills. The old people covet them. They will cut you off in the water for them. They have been known to stay on them more than the allotted ten minutes per person in Community Pool, as the posted sign says, just to spite someone else who needs a turn. Yes, the old people can be ferocious. And to top off my already sour mood about sharing, true to form, the old people were in top shitass form about the Aqua Gators yesterday.

It was a bit of a tragedy. One of the Aqua Gators was down for repairs. Lucky for me, it wasn't the one that I preferred to use. The good Aqua Gator was still up and running, a bit of a ray of sunshine.

I started to swim/walk over to it. And was cut off, per usual. So, I decided that I would be a bit of an old lady force myself today. I just didn't have the patience to put up with the people who are supposed to be examples for the rest of us, behaving badly. I wanted my turn at the Aqua Gator as well. I paid my money, I broke my leg, my land therapy was in hold up, I was valid in Community Pool, just like anyone else!!!!!

I stood quite near the Aqua Gator, and politely asked if she minded if I started the line, and could take my turn at the Gator after her...her turn was almost over the ten minute limit...and I intended to stake my claim, and make my presence known.

The old lady replied that she guessed that I could have my turn after her's, but the other lady, who had just gotten into the pool (we're only allowed one hour in the pool each, and my hour would be completed after the Aqua Gator), well the other old lady, who had just gotten in the pool, well, she usually liked to use the Aqua Gator to warm up. One old lady, trying to bully me, in favor of another old lady.

Ok, most times, yes, you would forgo your turn for old people. But, the older I get, and the more bad old people that I see, who were probably bad young people, the less likely I feel like giving up my fucking turn at the Aqua Gator.

I was so grouchy that I wanted to say, Fuck You, You Old Fucking Fuck, Seriously, Fuck You. Oh, I'm getting the Aqua Gator After You...Don't Make Me Tell On Your Going Over The Time Limit Ass!!!! Don't You Make Me Do It!!!!

But, I didn't. In my own polite, sweet voice, I stated that I would start the line, and would make sure that Old Lady No. 2 got the Aqua Gator directly, right after me. Not to worry. I wouldn't let anyone else have it, but her. And to solidify my spot as next in line for the Aqua Gator, I began looking like I was very busy doing my arm exercises right next to Old Lady on the Aqua Gator. Yes, very intent, and very busy being healthy, and very next in line.

Old ladies No. 1 and No. 2 both made faces...but backed down. I would go on to be next on the coveted Aqua Gator. I normally just do five minutes. But, I did take the full ten minutes, relishing in my small triumph.

But, I'm on guard now. Yes, I am. The old people of Community Pool are a tough gang. And a driving force. I look to make sure that my walker was still in it's spot by the poolside. It did disappear for a bit one day, when an old man "mistakenly" took off with it. I look to make sure that my locker in the locker room hasn't been tampered with...that's happened before, too. With prison gangs use can often buy safety with money or cigarette, or selling some unfortunate poor soul out as jail booty. With the old people, I'm not sure. I may have to bake a pie or make ornaments or something corny like that...but it is for my own safety.

Yes, I will have to do that...lest there be no more turns at the Aqua Gator for me.

I Need A Hero...Oh Yeah...There's Myself

Yes, I read this today. I will be making my comments later tonight, or perhaps in the morning. I loved Richard Pryor for lots of reasons, and I think that it's perfectly ok for there to be some among us who can record parts of our history that aren't so pretty. do not want to leave any of those out when I talk about him.

We need to create new heroes and fast. (This was from a pre-birthday email to a friend yesterday.)

This post will be a bit all over the place....more than usual.

It's just minutes, slightly before I was born thirty-four years ago. Thirty-four years ago there was a tornado. I was supposedly born in a tornado. A huge destructive force of nature that would tear me from my mother's belly and land in me the bright, cold room of a redneck hospital to start my beginning. There is a park outside of this hospital, that has a large pond, that has white ducks. Growing up, I did always love to feed the ducks there...so there is that part of the memory. All the quacking and grabbing for old bread...

I will be the first to admit that my parents had no business reproducing. Honestly, I have no idea why they personally thought this was an ok thing to do. My mother is mentally ill, and my father, who will never-ever admit it, he is, too. If there were ever two people, on this planet, who could be examples of forced sterilization, it would in fact be my parents. But, then, so was the entire, North Texas town I grew up in. History would have been dramatically affected for the better, had the entire town not been allowed to breed. Only a few of us actually managed to escape. The friends that I grew up with are all fucked up. My entire graduating class. Amazing. All with their cheap beer hangovers, and Wal-Mart shopping carts filled with mac and cheese dinners, illegitimate children donned with toughskins jeans, and flip-flops in the winter. Yeah, pretty amazing. It has been rumored that there's a natural source of Lithium in the water. God probably assured that it would be there for good reason.

Is it possible that a weather condition can determine you being? Maybe, I think. I think back and look forward, and to me, it does often feel like I'm in the middle, with a wall of frenzy passing by me, at breakneck speeds, with random glance pieces floating in the middle...suspended in the wall...on for a tiny second...then gone. And, I seem to create a fair amount of destruction in my wake at times. Then sometimes, I seem to forcefully clear new paths for clean land and new beginnings.

Someone pointed out to me that I rarely talk about good things, or write about happy things. That's true. It's not necessarily because I'm that unhappy when I talk or write about them. It's just that the happy things don't need to be worked on, they don't need to be thought out, they do not have potentially destructive aspects to them that should be recorded for history. And perhaps, I'm a bit selfish with the good things. Maybe, I just like to keep those to myself. I do pull out the good stuff with my closest, dearest, most inner circle, people...probably because they're in the memories as well. And it's true, I'm not always willing to share them with people either. I am a bit of a separatist, a bevy of catalogues, if you will. I've only, in recent years, began networking to create a larger family. Goes to my Chinese birth symbol of the Pig. Yes, very characteristic of the Pig. For Pigs, they don't really seem to get going until later in life.

Would it make me a better person if I only spoke happy all the time? I'm not sure I have that in me. I cannot be one of those people who dons the colored bracelets, or puts ribbon stickers on the back of their car, joins the optimist club, etc.

And, I think that it's perfectly ok for there to be some among us who can record parts of our history that aren't so pretty.

December is a hard month. Who doesn't know that? Often, every December, just in case, I find myself apologizing to Jesus, that we have deperately missed the entire point of his life.

Today, being my birthday, this year, I'm not happy today. But, it's certainly been worse. So, I'm not completely unhappy either. It's just not a particularity remarkable birthday year.

One year, true to statistics (as much as I hate to admit), I did try to off myself. No, I'm not going to do that again...I was much younger then. So, quit asking. And through that experience, I gained some of my most dearest, truest, coolest, everything good friends. I am amazed by them all the time.

I think back this morning, of a couple of people I know, who didn't make it from their same experience. One was this very dear, sweet, talented, young man. When I met him, I knew he would try to off himself. My hope at that time, that he would just try it and fail. But, he didn't.

He was found hanging, one December, above his own art work, colored pencils and charcoal bits all around the floor. No one found him for a few days. His neck stretched. Crap in his pants. That was a horrible way to be found. He deserved something more dignified.

Everyone was shocked, angry and sad. Not me. I got it. I had talked to him briefly once about getting some help etc. But, he barely knew me, and wasn't likely to heed my warnings. But, his death, I got it. And I mourned only for the world, that we would all loose someone so great, and not to have made the time to stop and look. That we would not make a place for him to be ok. We are collectively not very good about that.

And one can look at the likes of Elliot Smith, Beethoven, and Spalding Grey and wonder if somehow we have failed to create a place for creative people to be safe or energized. Was it true that back in the day, you could be Socrates...just roaming around the hillsides, thinking and making comments whenever you felt like it? Not so much now. You have to have a job of some real society based substance. Some people just can't do that. And there are few that make it to stardom, and even then can't handle the spotlight...so hard to say. That boy did not feel safe and energized. And there was a time that I didn't either.

I talked with a dear friend about how we all seem to have to fight now for our creativity. Our place. We no longer have the luxury of just getting noticed. Maybe it's the fight that's too much for some people. My friend and I talked about several other people who are having problems in their creativity. One woman walked off of her creative job, with good reason, I think.

The fact of the matter is that everyone is special. Every single one of us. Having to fight for that, just seems silly, don't you think? Yet, we are a society of the habit of feeding off of the creative people that do make it...as though, they should be hailed as something unique or sometime hailed as something dirty and appalling. We feed off of those aspects, as though, we didn't all contain those very same aspects in each of us.

I was so lucky to have learned my lesson in this point early...without the cost of transforming into worm food.

And then there's Richard Pryor. A man way before his time. I kept a close eye on him, as we both share a common disease. It was a bit of a let down that he died around my birthday time. Not that I'm blaming him for that, but it did suck. Yes, of course, worse for him that me.

Looking at his past history, with drugs, and other stuff...the place for creativity must have been hard on him as well. He just put his life right out there, for everyone to examine, to feed on like wild savages...he pulled out all the stops, and pulled no punches...I'm not sure many people recognize the amount of himself that he gave, in order for the rest of us to have a good laugh. We didn't even need to think, we didn't need to take out the microscope. Richard Pryor just put his shit...all of his shit...right out there. Public laundry. What would the world be like if we all had the courage to do that. If we all felt safe enough to do that.

He was pre-so-many-popular people now. He paved the way, so that others may have an easier time of it in this chosen field. He did fight the good fight. Even with so many hardships and setbacks, he did fight and won. He won a place in history...which in an amazing feat. Truly a shining example. Thank you Mr. Pryor, you fucking, great fuck you...thank you!!!!!

So, I did mourn the loss of some people and things on my birthday. And I also celebrated so many things and people as well.

And, truth be told, I'm feeling like a fucking lucky son of a bitch...that hasn't done so bad for the start that I was given. Yep, one lucky son of a bitch.

Dreams of a quiet birthday plagued by sociopathic tendencies...The truth about me and Georgie

I am a horrible proof reader. So, no, I'm not going to proof read my own words, past running the spell check...so quit asking. I'm not that dedicated to my art or my reputation either, for that matter. And, in the morning with my coffee and cigarette...well, those items are too hard to put down for the act of re-reading my post for crimes against the English language that I may have committed.

My birthday is approaching. People have been asking me what I wanted, for the past couple of days.

Last night, I dreamed that I received a big, fat check in the mail from my father. (Note, extremely unlikely.) Dreams are a funny lot. In the same dream, Bob Bullock (?) was sitting in my living room with a few strippers that I used to work with, one of which had cancer. We were all very worried. I could only see Bob's back, and when he turned around he was a cheery gay man. It was raining outside, and there were lots of bright green plants everywhere.

Whatever, analyze if you must. I'm not going to do that today either, at least, on this point.

At work, I did somehow manage the subtle art of having my birthday date removed from the "Birthday/Having Cake" list. A feat, in past years that seemed impossible. I do hate having cake at the office. We never get to really choose what cake we want for our special day. I prefer banana cream pie, or the cheapest white cake with the old recipe, lard and sugar icing.

With the high dollar people that I work with, who are all counting their carbs and separating their fat types...well, those birthday choices just wouldn't fly. And I have to stand around and share it with a bunch of people who don't really know anything personal about me, and don't give a fuck to learn. The birthday song sung to me, off key and mumbled by the hassle of it, all the while, eyeing MY cake...So, I have long wished not to be on that list. It's just creepy. It just seems unnatural and makes me not feel so good. I have finally succeeded in escape. For this, I believe things are on the upswing for the year's end. It's all terribly exciting.

This year...I don't really want anything. Maybe some homeade stuff or some CDs, stuff like that. I really can't think of anything. When I said outloud that I didn't really want anything for my birthday...jeez, did I get some weird looks. Is it an absolute must that you have to celebrate your birthday for the sake of other people? Is it? I'm not sad or depressed or anything...I just can't think of stuff that I want this year. It's feeling like a rather unremarkable birthday year. That's all.

I'll come through on another year with a party or something, I'm sure. Not to worry.

Ok, enough about that.

I did help the woman, who I previously posted about, who was without electricity...in the cold. I searched some sites, and found some not very well published loopholes in the system. There is always a fucking loophole. It was buried pretty good. Even a lawyer that I know couldn't find it, and wasn't aware of it.

This loophole system goes to the heart of the problem with our society really. This year was an extremely costly year with high energy prices. And we do not have a "living wage" instituted. There are more homeless than ever. It's very cold outside. Therefore, we have put dollar signs on the level of human comfort. Can't pay...then get sick, go ahead, loose your home, it's okay to die...there's always someone to replace you in the workforce. That's what we're saying.

We are saying...Unless, you can find the loophole in the system. Unless you have sociopathic tendencies...sociopathic traits in you, and you can bend the rules, find the loophole, make the argument convincing...make the argument seem like it was "the man's" idea after all...Then you can't be safe, and can't have a warm home.

So, do I know that I probably has sociopathic tendencies? Yeah, I know. And while this woman is sitting in her home with the heat and the lights on, I'm not feeling remorseful about bending the rules....yet, another trait of sociopathic behavior. No remorse.

http://www.reference.com/browse/wiki/Antisocial_personality_disorder

I looked it up, just to check. I do fit some of the criteria. Although, I have not been to prison. I did go to jail once for unpaid traffic tickets...I won't be doing that again. (Everything you've heard about the bologna sandwiches, the flip flops, the bright orange jumpers, the scratchy blankets...all true.) And there seems to be a trend with this diagnosis. I know several people who meet the criteria listed. In fact, most of the free thinkers I know match this criteria. So, perhaps we should band together for the good of humanity. Rule Benders Unite!!!!!

Maybe I am making light of the diagnosis, but you cannot help but see the strikingly fantastic resemblance to the larger population in need of finding the loopholes, the number of people in prisons growing, the homeless, the power people, and the diagnosis.

Are we not responsible for this upswing of being in need of finding the loopholes disguised as mental illness?

So, there it is...the quality that Bush, me, and the homeless man standing at my street corner all have in common.

That's a swift kick in the ole happy birthday pants.

Well, shit.

War...Good God Ya'll

http://www.nytimes.com/2005/12/08/international/europe/08pinter.html?emc=eta1

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/middle_east/3738368.stm

http://www.guardian.co.uk/comment/story/0,3604,920588,00.html#article_continue

To All:

Three articles, from three creditable sources. I have sat and watched much more of our human history this year. The unfolding of what we will make of ourselves in the world history. I have an American flag at my desk, from a Veterans Day party some time ago, that was made in China, I discovered on the tag. And some time ago, we, at the office, were given coat pens in remembrance of 9/11...they have the twin towers on them, and the American flag, and a big, fat, made in China sticker on the back. We have sold our own flag to China for cheaper labor and mass production.

The past few days I have watched military personnel sending home holiday greetings for their families, played on all the local TV stations. I come from a military family. In fact, I am the only child not to have gone into service. I made this decision based on the repercussions that I saw the military lifestyle inflicted upon my family. I know that the majority of military people that we have sent overseas are children, by most standards, and also, people who couldn't afford to live in our country if they didn't have military income. I have lived in towns where the military is a big driving economy force. My family still lives in towns built around military bases.

I am not against, in any since of the word, the people who have joined the military. They have made the choice to risk their lives for steady paychecks.

I cannot, however, support a war based on causalities and atrocities that were happening long before we got involved. We waited until our own interests we at stake. And then the war has been perpetrated with mis-information and lies...candy-coated bullshit. And if the majority of Americans were more well read, more worldly, we could have made a decision based on those views, not the views fed to us.

John Lennon was shot by a mad man. And I'm not entirely sure myself that I am that fond of John Lennon, I'm not that fond of the Beetles really. However, there were so many people, of so many generations, that mourned his loss...even after 25 years. He is part of our history. Yet, his message has seemed to fall on deaf ears as we buy our flags from China, grab latte that contain not fair traded coffee, and get into our SUVs.

Our suspected "terrorist" list has grown to 80,0000 names. These people are all on the US No-Fly list. This has begun to smell a lot like the Red Scare. And I am not ok not being able to speak my mind. And I am not ok torturing people. And I am not ok, putting military people at risk for a war that could have been prevented. And I'm not ok watching our President talking to his dogs about presents while people are getting shot in the head. Are you kidding me?!?

So, to John Lennon. Slightly weird with his even stranger wife. May your message somehow get through at some point - cause we're dying out here.

-June Doe

what happened to the gunthat killed John Lennoncould we find that gun& melt itpour it down the throatof the man who pulled the triggerthere's a hole that will ever fill Albert Hall& nothing will bring him back
so give me the gun that killed John Lennon
& imagine it a love that has flown
© 2005 R Lance W'ms December John Lennon: Dead 25 Years

Giving helps me to regulate my bowels

I am feeling reflective this morning over my coffee.

The funny thing about this holiday, is that I am the person now put in charge of the Holiday Party at work. Ironic, to say the least. However, in my personal struggle with the season, there is always some ray of hope that this holiday will be the one. That this holiday will be the one where people actually get it together and are nicer to eachother, and take in the actual spirit of the season.

It could happen. Not sure it will considering all of the 40% to 50% pre-Christmas sales that are going on. All of those mad dashes to the Wal-Mart riots to save pennies...the jury is still out on this season.

I planned the party. I organized the food, the White Elephant Gift Exchange, the place, the invites...etc. There wasn't really anything new in there, from all of the previous years. And every year, most people attend for what they feel is there rightly earned, owed to them, expensive, free meal from their bosses, everyone sits with their comfortable work allies, and then there is a mad, slightly crashed flurry during the White Elephant Gift Exchange to get the best under $10.00 prize (usually the Chia Pet Homer Simpson, or the Growing Flowers in a Mug for Your Desk Set.)...all of those same ole things. It wasn't feeling very festive, so I added a little something.

I decided that we should have a work choir. Now, it has to be a "holiday" party, not a "Christmas" party, as we have people of other faiths and it's just not politically correct. We're going to sing:

1. Jingle Bells, Batman Smells (2 verses I didn't even know there was a second verse until yesterday. How cool is that?!?)

2. Randolph the Bow-Legged Cowboy (something my own father made up, to the best of my knowledge, and has sentimental value)

3. Grandma got run over by a reindeer

4. (Then the serious one to be especially performed by two selected people) Chestnuts Roasting Over An Open Fire

5. (We will pass out the lyrics.And everyone will join in.) Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree - final

Only a few people were actually into it. I wanted it to be funny. Some people told me, absolutely no way in hell would they join the group. One guy in particular wanted to know what was going on. I asked him why he wanted to know...he wasn't going to have the constitution to be involved. He said I should try him. So, I did. He said that was the stupidest thing he'd ever heard. I said, told you so. What I think is weird is that people would care so much about making fun of themselves and entertaining work people...Are these truly people you care about making an impression around...like they're your best friends? Whatever. And some people thought that I was being sarcastic and shitty...well, I'm not. These are all silly songs that everyone secretly sings every season. Don't play.

And for the people that were into this with me...it was very fun...the spirit was there, and growing. Some of the people that are into it with me, are some people that I don't usually get along with, and yet, here for the season, we've agreed to lay down our sharpened pencils and the deadly permanent markers, put away the strategic email moves , come forth from our battle stations (/cubicles), and join together in joyful song.

I might just get to pull this off. Cool.

To continue my holiday giving, I am also going to donate my $1.20 to the Central Texas Rainbow Families http://www.centexrainbowfamilies.org/

As a member, I'm trying to help them get their non-profit status. If all of the members donate $1.20, then they/we are a shoo in for this. One dollar and twenty cents is the cheapest way to cleanse my soul that I've found this season. Feel free to do so as well. It couldn't hurt anyone to be kind, even if not into the cause.

I also am trying to get this random woman some help. As I'm still in Physical Therapy, there is a woman that I see every time I'm there, and she is currently without power at her house. Long story short...she fell into some trouble, and is back on track now (really, fantastically, back on track), however, since she works for minimum wage, and you cannot turn your power back on until you have paid your previous outstanding bill, she is without heat and electricity.

The City, as of September 1, 2005 has negated making payment arrangements with persons who have previous outstanding bills. So, today is our first freeze, and she has no power. That's nice. She has never asked me for anything. We just bullshit at Physical Therapy. Sharing life complaints, etc. She's cool, and could use a break with this one. Today, I'm going to see what I can do.

In my own life, certainly I have fell into trouble. And if this is truly the season of giving and if God does forgive, than who am I not to contribute.

I brought this woman's situation to one person's attention, and that person's response was given the entirety of the situation - how do I know that this woman wasn't going to take advantage of me, or was lying? I said that I didn't care about that. That wasn't really the point of giving or helping. If her story lacks credibility, then that's on her, and her heart. I'm still going to try to help her. Plus, I've seen the old bill. And the thought of being in the dark, without heat, in this city and country of decadence, well, that's really stupid. We have so many arguments about doing the right thing...too many.

There are other points that I could make for sympathy about this woman's situation. More details, I suppose. And eventually, it may come to that. Having to manipulate people into caring...finding the right buttons for compassion. I like her enough to do that, if it's needed. But, maybe it won't come to that. Maybe people will stand up and surprise me. I got a few people to sing silly songs with me and wear felt hats while doing it...so, who knows what will happen today... using my power for good instead of evil.

If you've done some good, or are considering doing something good...feel free to post a comment about such activities.

I Have Money...Can I Smell Your Feet?, and other popular life lessons

I have to say, that for the most part, I have quit watching the History Channel.

And for good reason. Yesterday, as I got home, I was taking a load off, and flipping the channels...the show that I did want to watch was in commercial, and I never want to watch the commercials. So, I paused for a moment to watch a bit of the History Channel's show on the Panama Canal and the now deposed Noriega. It was the end of the show, and there was a little photo recap. During this photo recap was a quick picture of the President Bush Jr. and then a few frames went past and there was a quick blip of Saddam. Nothing was said about these two, and there was nothing made of the pictures, just quick blips. Quick clever blips. That type of slipped in comparison is a cheap shot. If fact, I turned off the television all together. Fuckers. That's what I thought. Fuckers.

I'm not terribly fond of the History Channel anyway. They mostly run segments pertaining solely to wars...as if that was the entire makeup of our collective history. It's comparative to the person at the Fox network who seems to adore the show MASH...as this is also on at any given time, somewhere on the cable span. And comparative to the person at Taco Bell, who uses the same twenty-odd ingredients to come up with new ways to get us into the drive thru line when we're drunk or broke.

Have we become that uninventive? Stifling creative urges will only lead us to destruction. (See...the Borg...Star Trek, The Next Generation.)

Yesterday, I was reminded of an experience at the nudie bar that I used to work at, which seems to ring true for the above thoughts.

There was the man who liked feet. He didn't drink. He had a good job. He was average looking...in fact, everything was average about him...except he liked feet. He always asked for me. And it did take him some time to get up the courage to let me in on his plan. He didn't want dances, he wanted to smell and rub my feet. Well, this isn't really my bag, but I did have waitress feet, that were often tired and hurt, and I would be getting paid. So, I struck up a deal with him.

He could rub my feet, and he could even smell them. HOWEVER, there was to be no sighing, no moaning, no licking, no placing on or near his crotch, and I at no time wanted to know what he was thinking. I wanted the money up front, of course.

He agreed. And his only request was that I wear dirty socks.

So, it was a deal.

Then there came a time, where naturally, he upped the ante.

I was leaving work. The bouncer was escorting me to my car. And there he was, the footsy guy. I immediately told him, my shift was over, and he would have to leave me alone.

He pleaded for just one minute. One minute, I said. And the bouncer stayed.

He said that he would pay me a couple of hundred dollars if I would sit in my car and take my shoes off and just push the gas pedal up and down for five minutes, saying, "Vroom...Oh, This Makes The Car Go Faster. Vroom."

I said no. He said five hundred dollars. The bouncer looked at me liked he wanted to do it.

I said, fifteen hundred dollars. That's one thousand for me, and five hundred for the bouncer. And if would be three minutes, and I would time it. And all of the same rules applied as in the bar. No sighing, no moaning, no licking of anything, nothing on or near his crotch, and I, at no time, wanted to know about anything going on in his head.

He said that was too much. I said, ok, see you later. He just couldn't stand it. You could see that he just couldn't stand it. I knew that he had the money. And the fact of the matter is, if you're going to cost someone else for their time, and more importantly, your weird foot habit, that has to cost. They're not especially fantastic feet, but, they're not bargain basement, overthecounter feet either.

The bouncer was just seeing me to the car, when foot guy came back up to us. He would meet my foot price after all.

So, I gave the bouncer his cut. Man, was he happy. After that, this bouncer always watched over me...often catering to me. He might have taken someone out for me, if I'd ever needed it. You can't buy my loyalty for five hundred bucks, but whatever. I took my cut. I took of my shoes, and while foot guy watched with extreme fascination and glee, I did what he asked. I am, after all, a person of my word.

I timed the foot thing. Three minutes where up. The foot guy backed off, and seemed happy with his purchase. I said good night to all, shut my car door, put my seatbelt on, lit my after work cigarette, started the car, and began to drive home. All in a day's work, for the nudie bar.

How I think this applies, is that I never want to stuff my creative urges so far into myself that I end up being the person addicted to formulating lies for other people, or being addicted to MASH, or being the person who needs to smell feet. I'm just saying.

Oh Christmas Tree and the Weekend

I didn't really do anything this weekend. I slept and watched TV. And I played with my son. He and I played "school". I was the teacher. We read, we practiced our letters, we did macaroni art, and painted. We had a small class. My son, and two imaginary people named George and Amelia. Amelia was new to the school and my son was very kind to her, offering words of encouragement and holding her hand through many of the school tasks. George, however, was not a very good student. George kept disrupting class by farting and he was continually eating glue. That George...he was a handful.

These characters that my son created for us. I was completely content to pretend teacher in my son's pretend world. There was no place on the planet that I would have rather been. Those secret moments in a world only belonging to me and my child.

It's a funny thing, hanging out with kids. Some adults are not completely comfortable just pretending with their children. I can vaguely recall my own parents with this. My mother would pretend with me, my father, not so much. I don't want to get too old and too guarded not to imagine with my child. His world is full of colors, sounds, images, feelings...that are amazingly brilliant. Who doesn't want to be a part of that?!? Nothing can recharge a spirit like hanging out with a child.

I watched a couple of shows of interest, that seemed to have merit for thought. One show was on the Pope. And one show was on being a skeptic and exorcism. There's this man that holds ceremonies, weekly, performing exorcisms. And people go to be exorcised. They absolutely believe they are possessed by a demon, or the devil...etc. This one woman had been exorcised over fifty times, and felt like she was showing some improvement, where all the therapy and medication had failed her before. The camera showed this woman in her "demon" possessed state. She growled and bore her teeth, etc. After seeing all the movies and whatnot, she didn't make a very convincing possessed person. But, I'm not expert. She just looked, to me, like a lonely, geeky, not belonging, person, in need of attention and a group. I suppose if you need that, who am I to say it's wrong. But, it did look a bit silly. If I need such a group, I would choose, maybe, clown college, or something. The idea of juggling, riding a unicycle, and jumping out of the tiniest car ever with your friends seems like more fun.

Science has found the part of the brain that isolates religious experiences.

Ultimately, I suspect that God is not real. All current signs point to that being just a made up thing to comfort the masses. This being an important point, as it challenges just about every notion that I have had instilled in me. And, of course, all the atrocities committed in the name of control, and in the name of a God. That has not changed at all. Even though the very books that are out there for us to read, all preach very clearly against being mean.

What are all the people in power going to do, when the word gets out that God is not real? What's left then? The people are going to want revenge for being fooled...havoc will be prevalent.

And what about all the good that has happened in the name of God? Can humans face that the good is still needed if it's not backed by an icon?

Is it truly part of human nature to be kind and helpful? Hard to predict, I think. If you use the examples of human reaction after Katrina, there were people who stole from stores because they needed the water, food and medicine...then there were people who stole from the stores because they wanted a new TV. Hard to say, if the entire world went mad, who would be the winners, isn't it? History and books often have predicted the latter to be the victor...Poor Piggy...Circa...Lord of the Flies.

Now, having said all of that. I am impressed by religious leaders that dedicated their lives to educating humans on the basic rules of being good. Not screwing your neighbor's wife, not stealing, not judging...are all terribly nice thoughts to adhere to. And I do believe that there is some basic collective consciousness. Science oftens lacks studying the mind and body, etc. as a whole working mechanism. Science tends to isolate and segregate functions. I tend to want to believe there is more to us than that.

So, now comes Holiday season. Which has become more increasingly about the gift giving and less about the Christ Child. I like the notion of Jesus. As a man, that he would walk the earth doing good, and instilling good...what's not to like about that? And according to science, the act of prayer, meditation and the like, does have merit. That part of the brain that isolates us from the outside stimulation, does, in fact, help us to recharge.

Last year, I made my own Christmas cards. Here's what I put on them:

For no matter which faith you adhere to...

If one at all...

Perhaps it's just the changing of the season

that makes this season the one,

that reminds us all to be kinder to eachother,

And to witness the gifts that each person

receives from one another.

I do not know.

I do know that I am a better person for

having met you,

Which means that I will be a better person to

other.

Thank you for that.

And best wishes for the winter and the New Year.

Well, I did have some angry responses from that card. One person from work said that he was tired of all the non-Christians getting in on the season that didn't belong to them. He said that to me. My response was, that I didn't think the Christians even had the date right on the birth of Christ, and certainly not the color of his skin; therefore, they could not have the entire market on goodwill for the whole winter season. And further more, I asked him, if he was going to forego Santa Claus with his children and just market the gifts of frankincense, Myrrh and Gold, which were the traditions of not just Christians, but of pagan's, and Islam and many other religions for that time period. Was he? Santa Claus was a marketed entity, not part of any particular religion. Was he only going to tell his children only about the Christ Child, and be solely dedicated to his religion? Was he going to remember how baby Jesus was born, not in a palace or even a hospital, but a manger, and also, adhere to the celebration of poverty and not needing extravagance? Was he and his family to do that? How novel an idea that was to him. He stood there in anger, caught by his own lack of dedication to his faith.

I told him that regardless of how he felt towards me, the sentiment of the card was still the same, and if he liked, he could store this in his desk for a month or two, and then take it out and read it then, if that would make him more comfortable.

Do I secretly hope there is a God? Well, yes, I do. Even though I think that it may be a big silly scam...I do hope. Sometimes, I've even been caught praying. And I do not always pray for myself...sometimes I pray for other people. This past week, I prayed for someone at my office, who's father was dying. She was in so much pain and anger...she was distraught, in every since of the word. I prayed that she be protected, and that she have the time she needed for this, and the support that she needed for this lesson. I sent as many thoughts for her as I could. And I offered her my support in anything that she needed. Is that faith? No, not faith...hope...that's what it is...just plain hope.

In my own life, I have met less than ten people who I believe are Christians. Who make me want to believe. The rest have been hypocrites..full of the very things that the religion and the God speak against. Yes, I know that those things are the struggle that all must go through supposedly, in order to reach the Heavenly Gates. And I know that there must be something for forgiveness to stand for. I get all of that. However, much each struggle be soooo hard for some people? And exactly how much of it are the rest of us to have to put up with? (See previous post on people finding God in prison.) If there is a God, perhaps there should be more examples of the good things, and less of the struggles. (See Buddhists Monks.) For me, it is the religious people that have killed God, not science. At least with science we could still believe, but most religious people do not entice me to their ways.

And what of me? Where will I be this Christmas? Well, I will put up my tree, I will tell my child that there is a Santa Claus, I will also explain to him of the belief that some people hold for God and the Christ Child-he should make up his own mind. I like the holiday season, I like the good cheer, and the kind words, and all of it. I would prefer this was all year long, but, shit, I'll take what I can get on this stuff.

And on the actual night of Christmas, when all is dark and quiet, I will be up, as always, saying a prayer, and hoping that God is real and listening. Couldn't hurt.