The dark hole that is my dark hole

Okay, personal stuff:

My mother is very ill. I suspect the violent end to this episode to be quite soon. I have written about her before...being psysophrenic.

Last night my mother called around fifteen times before giving up starting at 1:00 AM. I turned off the ringer, as not to wake my son and man. I'm not going to listen to the messages as I erase them. I don't listen to them anymore.

I got a call from a distant second cousin this week. I may have met this man, I may not have...was too young, if I did, to recall him now.

However, he found me...he sought me out. Giving me this long lecture about taking care of my mom. The need to take care of family. My mother is very sick.

These calls have come more frequently from family strangers as my mother gets more sick and more unmanageable.

I tried to talk calmly to this man that I share a bloodline with but don't know.

Here's the scoop of it all.

For fucksake, I know my mother is sick. Who does not know this? This is supposed to be news to me?

This man lives in the same town as my mother does. He was not calling me to offer help with the situation, like a good family member would.

Per my family norm: He was calling to get me to deal with her. He acted like I didn't know what was going on. He told me that I should come get her. With what money, I asked? And in her current state, how was I to transport her safely?

I also explained to him that I had MS, which he says he knew about. So, I asked him, since stress causes flare ups of this disease; how was I to handle my violent mother once I got her here? Also, not to mention that I have a small child and he has no children...what to say about that exposure to my violent mother? Well, Oh, Nothing to Say to That? ...what a shocker.

I couldn't legally get my own mother's paperwork to start her on the waiting list for government housing. How did he suggest that I go about that? And where was I to keep her until her name came up on the over two year wait for housing? Nothing to say about that? Nothing?!?

Also, since my death would be immanent, who was to take on my mother, in the town and state that she knows noone, when I pass or become incompetent myself? Who was to do that? Well, Hadn't thought of that. That this town, where I live is huge in comparison to the village she lived in now, so if I did move her here the chances of her getting hurt, or lost, or shot by the cops: Sophia King, became tenfold.

http://www.austinchronicle.com/issues/dispatch/2002-06-21/pols_atlarge.html

What?!? Nothing to say about that?!?

He went on to say that there must be something. I could get custody of my mother. Yes, for a tune of about $20,000 I could do that. Again, where was she to go after me? And was I took take on the full responsibility of her actions, once having custody? She seriously hurts someone, I have to pay. Is that fair to my man and child?

What about Guardianship...Yes, there was that, but everytime I wanted to have her committed for her own safety, I would have to go to Court, with more than one family member as a witness, so if she's here, would he be willing to fly out everytime I needed a witness? Oh,ah, Oh...

What about a special home? Yes, She could be committed to a home. Well, Medicare does not cover this for her, and I do not have money for private facilities. But I would be willing to check into this again, if the rest of the family would share the expense. Oh,ah...it's not free from the Government? No, it's not. She can function when on her meds that she won't take. Therefore, it's Custody, Guardianship, or the Cops.

He asked me if I wanted to hear the phone messages that my mother had left for him where she was crying and babbling. No, I knew what this was. He repeatedly said how he and the other family members would love to help...but what could they do?

Translate: Would I just take on the complete job, and absolve them all from their own guilt or not doing a fucking thing.

Well, no, I'm not going to resolve other people's guilt for not helping. I am certainly not going to do that. People should feel bad and they should feel guilty. I'm not going out sitting in the crappile that I didn't ask for by myself...Nope. Either we're all family for real and we all help, or it's the guilt and shame and crappile for all of us. How about that plan?!?

I suggested that he call the cops on her, like I do, because they come out and get her and commit her, and put her back on her meds for a bit.

Oh, he could do that. How horrible...he couldn't do that. He really was just calling to let me know what was going on, and to get me to do something about it.

This strange, little, foreign man was calling me, to frustrate me. That's what this was. Per my families norm.

This man went on to suggest that my father help me. I do not speak to my father for many reasons, but this would be one of them. My father married, procreated with a nutjob, and then left the nutjob in my lap, in the lap of the only child he couldn't really give much of a shit about. Those promises to friends, family, and God meaning nothing to him.

Well, be proud Dad, I'm leaving, too. Just like you...how about that?!?

I am no longer angry about this fact, of not talking to my father, I just see it for what it is, and don't want to deal with my father anymore. He's just not a good guy. I have just parted ways for the best of everyone.

He cannot be around my child either.

This is the wrap up: Everyone is my family does not want to help me. I get calls and letters and bribes, etc. regarding the condition of my mother.

It's so funny to me that this rather large group of people that I don't even know, but who do know my mother and have had more life contact with her, are willing to dump the entire responsibility in my lap because I am her child. Who made this rule? I only lived with this woman for six years of my life...how much responsibility does that buy a person?

Okay, I am a bit angry about this. I'm just writing my frustration out. So, don't write back to console me on this point. It's a fairly often frustration...I just need to barf it out to save some sanity.

With my MS, I have made arrangements for my child not to have to deal with me and my shit when it becomes necessary. He will not go on with that kind of crazy guilt. So, there is that point for the future. I have stopped that for him. And that feels pretty cool.

And my son will not know my family. I have turned out to be a great parent in that aspect, too. Instead, I have surrounded him with beautiful people, who love him so much. That I did do. I have stopped the cycle here. And that's something...most people can't or won't or just don't do that. But, I have done it.

As for my own mother, and the other people like her?

Well, my close friend said it best when he pointed out that we live in a society that expects, commands, that psysophrenics to fit in the mold of the norm of society or face being useless, ignored, discarded people. As though my mother, and others like her have no value as humans. There were things written that has shown that in previous societies these people went on to be Shamans, prophets, etc. They were often hailed and exalted.

But, this will not be for my mother.

So, soon I will prepare to write the letters and make the calls to the people in my family to tell them to leave me alone about this. I have looked at the possibilities, exhausted the efforts, etc.

The movie Beautiful Mind did not portray this disease in it's full glory. You were seriously shortchanged at the Box Office on that one.

The stories that I have from my life, well, most people, unless they have a psysophrenic hanging around, well, they are quite fabulous unbelievable tales. And someday I will write those stories, sure,maybe,but not right now. Too much, right now.

I'm not willing to sacrifice myself or my child and man, for my mother. And, yes, there is much grief in that. And, yes, I will cry. And, yes, I will still call her because she loves me. In her own, sad, fucked up way, she was the better parent in that. And,yes, I will bury her, and go through her things when the whole crap thing comes full circle. Yes, I will do those things. I am committed to that, at least.

Watch the family come out to the funeral to see if she left money or things for them...they'll be there. Like the others that have passed before my mom.

I have spoken to others with the same plight. We're all in the same fucked up boat on this one.

And, this is my secret hole. This is my dark place.

Will this ever be repaired? No. This is just what it is in me.

I carry this.

I accept this.

I live with this.

And I am okay with that.

I accept this as part of my mom's life, my life, my heart.

What I am not okay with is that I can't just be alone in this spot.

Alone, without comments that I never asked for, from the unknowing, uncaring, unsupportive peanut gallery who will never get their feet dirty with the mud from the woman that is my mother.

I am not okay with that.

I am not okay with that.

I am not okay with that.

I do not forgive you people on this point.

I won't throw it in your face either.

But, I will not forgive you.

I am okay with living with that as well.

How about them apples?!?

And the phone sounds the dial tone as the peanut gallery hangs up....

Just Running It Up the Flagpole for the Week with Power Bottoms in Tow

I'm just now catching my breath for the week. I missed two birthday's of two dear friends, and I missed spending more time with a friend from out of town, I still have gifts to mail...shit, what happened?!?

I'm going to combine on this blog...so you amy want to print this for toilet reading if you've been constipated and expect it to take a while or perhaps reading in the car on long trips.

My friend did get a new tatoo. Feel free to visit his blog in awe at http://www.johnnymeatworth.blogspot.com/ This is simply the place to start you new year off. He has a wonderful link to getting your very own New Year's Resolution. Mine is to find Bin Laden. I need some maps to the White House for this task, I think.

One the subject of dead miners. Why are we still mining as a job when there are alternatives for fuel? And how can you torture people by saying their family members aren't dead...just joking...they are dead afterall...Ha-Ha. Again, why are we still using coal?

My thoughts on the recent violence in Iraq. I hate to be a conspiracy person, but didn't we just have this calm period, followed by our people asking for military personnel being pulled out, now, there is a ton of violence...could it be planted violence for futher justification of a stupid war to gain access to more oil that we wouldn't need if we started using smart cars? (See Brazil and Ethanol)

http://www.ethanol.org/

Or cars fueled by garbage or sun or etc. This war and the drilling in Alaska are just stupid. There, I've said it...STUPID!!!!!

Here is a wonderful sight that we should all make a permanent favorite. However, it will make you feel a bit dirty when shopping and you turn items over to find out small, starving, children in labor forces world wide made your shit.

"Virtually nothing for sale at Disney is manufactured in this country, or is union-made." http://www.revbilly.com/blog/?p=139

Last time I visited a truckstop, the Mammy Dolls Salt Shaker and Cookie Jar Combo I saw was made in China. No, I didn't buy it. I got the hell out and kept driving North.

Email from a friend: "Some of you may have read that several NBC stations have folded to pressure from some viewers and the AFA to drop the new series "The Book of Daniel". The show, set to premier tonight, features a diverse family including a gay son. Please email your local NBC station and give them your opinion. Here is the address for WOAI in san antonio."

http://www.woai.com/contactus/

My response:

Thank you for making this so easy for us all. I'm emailing this morning to SA and Austin. I saw some comments about the show, on the news here, where a man was angry that Jesus was being played as someone so "flippant". I wish I could email this man personally.

Since this man didn't know Jesus personally, it's wrong for him to assume that Jesus wasn't flippant. The story is put in the very Bible that so many people read, that Jesus was a man; therefore, he would have had allllllll of the emotions of a man; including those that are not so pretty among us. If we look at the history of Jesus:

(1) He was a rebel against the Roman and Jewish establishment (what rebel can't be accused of a little flippancy?)

(2) He was most probably not white, given the area in which he lived (he is in the show)

(3) If you are Christian, why fear what anyone has to say about you're faith? (if you have faith, aren't you pretty much covered? Jesus didn't care, according to the teachings in the bible...he just did his stuff with a kind heart...reminder that he hung out with lepers and prostitutes without judgment...Can any of these complainers on the news programs say that about themselves? Jesus did not beat Jesus love into people.)

And with the abundance of diverse families, whether gay or otherwise, I do not think that Jesus would mind open and honest learning and discussion, as so many of his "conversations" were recorded for us to supposedly learn from. One thing that was prevalent in the Bible with Jesus, was a lack of harsh judgment on his part, and his death by those that did judge so harshly. Is there not something to learn from that?

If we choose to interpret the teachings of Jesus in that light...are those of us who are different and more excepting, open, with a strive for knowledge and heart...well, are we not closer to the idea that Jesus set forth for the world?

My response when asked about the emails about the Roller Girls show:

I liked the original roller derby women in the 1970s, it really did stand for something at that time. I do not like these "new" versions. It's the group of girls that made me stop getting tattooed. They are not very original, and I expect more out of women these days. We cannot overcome obstacles by piggybacking on someone else's idea. So, I haven't watched or been to any of their events. And to say that perhaps they are paying tribute to those original women, well, that stupid. Again, find your own thing, not someone else's. Are they that tough? Nope.

The one woman who's a teacher by day and a badass by night? (I saw the commercial.) Not that tough. You're either tough or not tough...you can't be a half-assed tough person and take the credit. The truck driver, the biker, and the construction worker that I know, that are women...they are fucking tough. And stand any of these girlies against those type of women and the roller skating girls would lose. Deep down, we all have to know that.

In fact, there was a woman who got involved with the Roller Girls at the beginning, that I used to work with. When I first started this job, she thought we were alike because she thought that I was "punk rock" like her. When she found out that I wasn't like her, she spread the rumor that she wanted to kick my ass.

I was pregnant.

But, I still told her, one fine morning shift, that we should do it. I would take her challenge. I knew someone who would set up the ring in the parking lot, and we could get outfits and sell tickets to the fight. I told her, yes, I would welcome the fight, pregnant and all. I said this loudly, in front of everyone. She quietly, very quietly, denied ever saying anything of the sort about me. I replied that it was okay, we should do it anyway. I got very close to her and said...yes, let's do it anyway....I knew that I could take her without injury to me or my child, but, alas, she was not "punk rock" or "tough", but she was a pussy.

And the money making fight never, ever, happened.

Am I that tough. Yes.

Commercialism of culture is paramount and original ideas are not part of this. Campy tributes are bullshit. These girlies are fakers and frauds. And the men who have been participating in this are mostly the same geeks that masturbate to adult cartoons and comic books depicting women with big ole boobies in fights while pretending to be in support for women's rights and the like, just to get an "in" with the women...I'm not fooled. Again, find your own idea, you're own sport, you're own niche...You Cannot Steal Someone Else's Superhero Suit.

And, NO I WILL NOT FIGHT THESE GIRLS IN PUBLIC FOR YOU TO PUT YOUR HANDS DOWN YOU PANTS TO FIND YOUR PEEPIE AND WATCH....STOP ASKING.

And about displays of affection in public...well, we're not the only country against love:

http://tinyurl.com/bdkxn

Fuck the murderer and rapists, etc. If you're holding hands, you're the devil.

I learned a new word from someone else who learned a new word. It's really quite fantastic: Power Bottom. I spread the joy and look forward to using this word frequently:

http://jameswolcott.com/archives/2006/01/too_many_creeps.php

Read and be happy.

Taking It Up the Ass with Staples and Other Office Copy Jobs

Well, I'm still taking it up the ass for my job. I, of course, have formed a uniform team of descendants...we meet regularly to discuss our master plans to overthrow the forces of evil in the ever so intricate world of papermate pens, files, and other office duties.

There was a rather large disturbance in the force this week. There was an office shift of duties, and new people to contend with...a scare of lost positions, and a lack of knowledge of who to report what to. Some of us, in the descendant factions have formed a Special Opts. Division only known as the CYA Unit. We have had several on the clock meetings, in a secret location, known to some as the smoking section...soon we while have our own secret door, pulled open by a secret stapler with a push of a button on the keyboard and a secret knock, but that is a plan for a larger future. I have failed miserably to report my life to my blog due to this disturbance in the force.

Most of us in the CYA Unit have put out our papers in the Universe for relocation. It's really only a matter of time now, escape is imminent. Until then, we will continue our meetings, perhaps bringing pastries or special colored pens to the hideout for comfort.There has been a rather large number of us who have had to deal with Stinky and Crazy Lawyer shenanigans this week. Most of us take comfort in the comfort of the CYA Unit. We are not alone.(mental note:make buttons or special passes with stolen office supplies)

I am the oldest of the unit. I have much wisdom and power plans to share with the others. I have been teaching my young pupils the art of office structure, staff alignment, and power plays, and manipulation. It's an art really. The basic principle is to Cover Your Ass, and, if possible, to also Cover The Asses of Your People. This is war you know. How does one Cover Your Ass? How does one cleverly Lay Blame and Come Out Looking Like the Hero?...again, it's a fucking art that needs much practice and possible small gifts of cookies from the office deli or leftover holiday candies.

Stinky has been a bit lazy this week. There are two of us that she has been delegating her work to-using the slight threat of invoking Crazy on our asses. Therefore, I inducted the other girl into the CYA Unit. I explained to her all of the background of Stinky, the legend if you will. I explained that you must appease Stinky, possibly with a lunch or a small task help out; while pointing out to others that you work for, that it is not possible to do their work for them if you continually have to be involved in others works. That you are a corporate team player, that you have done much to help(make a list), but that you need help in prioritizing this remaining things. What do they want you to do? What do they feel is important? Involving others, and making them feel important in your life and their work in mandatory for implementation. It will work every time.

I gave my young student and example.

We needed to throw a baby shower for a woman in the office. No one could get approval for this, although we do it all the time. My boss is very busy with important matters, therefore, I was not going to bother much on this front. So, I artfully involved Stinky, asking her to help with the planning, and that this was important for this woman that we all worked with, and Stinky had such good taste that it would be such a waste not to have her involved in this team effort. Being delighted with a chance to shine in the office spotlight, she readily agreed, and went to her boss for approval.

This help the CYA Unit on several points:

1. We got the party for this woman.

2. Stinky would be kept busy doing something besides delegations.

3. Stinky would supposedly party of the larger office team...that feeling of inclusion...to be used for later needs.

4. I didn't have to plan the food, I just had to do the invite.

In the meantime, I went to my boss with my list of things already done for Stinky, and the others went to their bosses with their lists at the same time...a united front of action. We are all out of the Stinky work for now, with very little trouble and still keeping Stinky in the loop of office love.

An art.

There is a new, young lawyer in the office that holds promise for also being a new Crazy. She must be treated with caution. While it's known among the staff that she has the potential to be an asshole, she also has outside connections which may not result in her being taught much of a lesson at first. Caution is advised. Stinky, I, and a few others in the office staff are aware of this problem child, and on this point, the CYA Unit will have to work directly in conjunction with Stinky, without revealing ourselves, to solve this problem.

The new lawyer is a bit of a snob, and on several occasions has made condescending comments to the staff. That is not a good idea to start your new career off with. Tisk-tisk. Regardless of where you came from, most of the office staff has direct links to the higher ups, with an even more intimate role and relationship with the higher ups. I am the gatekeeper for my boss. I give my boss my opinion on several matters, as I am the eyes and ears. Do I have complete pull?...of course not, but I have ways of making things difficult. (See above paragraphs.)

And I do have some minor influence in opinions in the office - as all staff do. In this problem, it's not so much of telling on this new lawyer...no my boss doesn't want to hear that gossip...but nonetheless, the problem will get taken care of.

Example:

I make sure that there is a stash of favorite drinks prepared for one person's arrival every time. This is not ass kissing...this is smart, evasive action. When this person has those drinks ready in hand, the office is safer for all of us.

If this person has to stop a meeting to get her own drink, time is lost, thought trains are disrupted, someone will have to pay. It is a fact. Therefore, being nice, providing that small service to this person and all of us, well, it's just not that big of a deal.

However, new lawyer made a comment that I and others might want to start doing that for her...I stopped her, rather coldly on that point. Now, she could say something to someone...but what? If I were to let it slip and reveal her crude comment, the higher up who does require these drinks, well,this higher up will very much tear her a new asshole...this higher up is a force to reckon with. And if Baby is to start complaining about the staff, I have mentally stored the list of condescending comments. She is playing with the Big People now. And the thing about the Big People is that they know there will always be more connections, so they don't have to keep this lawyer, and more importantly, the only people who get to treat others like shit are the Big People, not Baby.

This new lawyer is not longer in the popular crowd at high-school. I do feel sorry for her in her lack of understanding the world of the Big People just yet. There is still hope that she may recover from her past and learn her lessons without much pain...but we will see.

Never, ever mess with the staff as a whole...the staff will take you down. Never dismiss the connections that the small people have, or the influence with the office force. NEVER MAKE THAT MISTAKE!!!!

Will I ever work at an office where people just do their fucking work and do a good job doing it....hard to say. The Universe is vast and holds promise for us all.

May the force be with you.

If You Have An Extra Leaf To Turn Over....Fucking Sell It Already

I haven't had time to post, or do much of anything...so hold on to your reading glasses, this is going to be a big one.

Christmas day was smooth sailing. Maybe the first one ever for me. I called people and let them know that I was thinking of them. I visited my friends, and hung out with the family. It was pretty ok.My dear friend Craig had a cold, and my dear friend Ric, well, his ears are tickling, and this morning I now have it. It's the cedar trees. Amazing that nature can, and will, still get us all. The power there is just to great. Our planet always wins. The giant rock that we float on, will always win. Amazing how much dogma we've grated to comfort ourselves from that truth. Dogma has been used to control ourselves and control others. Amazing that the beauty that surrounds us, the intricacies of the universe are not enough to be recognized and sustain us. We are a bossy bunch.My Mother-In-Law is deeply Catholic. She did make a face when my child didn't know how to say Grace at the table. But, she's pretty good about keeping her views to herself. She's above average good about not being to bossy on her views on her religion. I can appreciate that, and respect her very much for that. We did have a roundtable discussion after dinner. She couldn't agree with me on some points. In my mind, it's crazy to have churches laden with golden statues, and jewels and have people standing outside the church starving.

Sell it, sell it all and feed people.

I don't believe in fancy, smacy icons. Nope. She also asked me if I thought some people have too much money and should take care of the rest of people who didn't...like Bill Gates or basketball players. I said, yes, yes, I did believe that. That if, indeed, you did have too much money, you should be bettering the lives of others. Yes, for the hell of it, you should give as much as possible away. Everyone could save a little back to be buried with if they needed it....sure why not.

All of those red-carpet events, with expensive loaner jewelry, and fine silks, well, it does freak me out. And I think it would freak out the likes of Jesus, Martin Luther King, Gandhi, etc.

Now comes the Year's end for us all. I am reflective, of course. It's been a hard, long year. Not just for me. A lot of people around me have had a long year. I escaped with some lessons about myself and a broken leg. Pretty easy for me, all in all. Some people lost everything they own and people they knew are still just missing. Really, look at your home, and maybe the person right next to you...just gone. Just gone. Imagine that. Quite sobering.

(Up to the new year)

Well, I slept. I slept so much that it hurt. I've been over eating, not exercising, not calling people back and dreaming. I 've been cocooning myself. 2005 was a deadly year of big lessons.

I drank my laxative tea. I have stock piled a lot of useless shit. And my useless shit will manifest itself in hurting my bodily form. I'm not getting any younger, so I really can't afford to fuck around with my body so much. I was truly excited and happy about the turn over of the calendar date. As though that one turning of the clock would hold so much promise and hope.

I waited until I saw the clock turn midnight to exclaim to myself, to let my breath completely out, and admit to myself that I had actually made it...that I had actually survived 2005. It was over. I spoke to a friend about it. He had the same feeling, that there was indeed some sort of relief and hope. The fact that he was sitting in 2005 either, as silly as it sounded, made him happy, too.However, the glee of the calendar change is not without warnings and struggles of change. Life cannot be just that simple. There has to be struggle in order to obtain peace and to reach nirvana. I had almost had a perfect twenty-four hours. Almost. In reading my horoscope from Mr. Brezsny of Free Will Astrology, I will need a humongous vacuum to clean up my act. I must dispose of things that have been holding me back for the past ten years. Ten Years?!?!, you say.Yes, the past ten years. I can name most of them.
Link: http://freewillastrology.com/horoscopes/20051222p.html

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