Lessons Learned

Soon we will welcome a new year. Little less than 12 hours in fact. As is the case with many, I too have spent a portion of this day ruminating on the past year and wondering what to do in the future to make life better. I have read a wonderful novel about what the meaning of this season is for various groups, but all experiences in the work touch upon the human themes of forgiveness, love, being and doing good, and family. All of these are common ponderings for humanity especially this time of year, and I am no different in considering them. I also have a blog to contemplate in my reflection though.

I began this blog as a New Year's resolution some time back, so it seems only fitting to reflect on what the blog has taught me in the past  year.

1. Being happy is really hard sometimes. I wanted so desperately to be happy at this time last year, that I decided to examine what in my life makes me happy and to then write about it. However, being happy in the face of large change and events beyond your control is most definitely difficult. Alas! I have not found any easy answers there. I can only conclude that happiness is fluid and ebbs and flows as the sea.
2. Little things amuse me and come in handy when my happiness seems to be receding. Donning funky socks, cruising around town on my bike, dancing in my living room, wearing unusual clothing, or engaging in online pun wars all contribute to my being able to pull myself out of whatever muck seems to be overwhelming me. Remembering that I possess this little arsenal of amusement is essential.
3. I simply cannot control what others do and to hold someone else responsible for robbing me of my happiness lacks conviction on my part. My happiness is mine to create and cannot be taken from me. All I can really do is adapt. Evolve or die as the case may be.
4. People who work more than 60+ hours a week cannot possibly be happy. I think at my height, I was working nearly 70 hours a week. I wanted to remain open to possibilities and new experiences that included a plan to remove me from my current work situation. Consequently, I said yes to several opportunities for earning money to put toward decreasing our debt including my student loans. My loans are minimal compared to some mind you, but they are still a barrier to our financial freedom. However, I cannot be happy working at the pace I have kept for the last 9 months. If these last few months are any proof, money cannot buy happiness. For my own health and well-being, I must say no and not be so focused on earning money to apply to the finances. As a result, I have designed a schedule for the new year that keeps me from accepting more hours than I can handle.
5. I enjoy writing. When the pressures of my many work schedules kept me from even wanting to look at print text, it was actually devastating. I didn't want to read for pleasure, and I didn't want to write my blog. I was too exhausted. While I was really enjoying researching and writing articles about everything from Verdi to jock itch, I also sacrificed my own writing pursuits. My essay tutoring has made me a better writing instructor as well as writer. My writing awareness grew from both of those jobs, but the jobs also kept me from writing for my own joy and fulfillment.

The novel I alluded to earlier in this blog was The Wolves of Midwinter by Anne Rice. Compelling fiction and quite possibly one of my favorites by her. Another theme implied throughout the novel involves creativity and understanding of ourselves and those around us. The protagonist gains an intense amount of insight into humanity and himself, and the need to create beauty is something I believe to be essential to my happiness. After my master's program, I found deep satisfaction in my work. I felt alive and boundless with my jewelry, my dance, and my other artistic avenues. Because of some choices I have made this year, I have neglected my creativity, and I want it back.

This next year's blog will be a part of that. May you all have a safe, thrilling, enjoyable, loving, and creative New Year.

Apologizing to the Body

I was sitting at the local tiki bar with a few old classmates the other night listening to the area legend play standards on her piano and the topic of The Artist's Way came up. One of the challenges of this work is apparently giving yourself permission to express yourself creatively. This is also one of the basics of the master's degree program I went through a few years ago.
The anecdote of what to do if you do not read someone else's work for a week and include watching television, or for those like me: Netflix binging, came up. What do you do if you don't read or binge watch sci-fi series? Apparently people do other stuff in the evenings. One couple's solution was to put on music while they made dinner. Soon they found themselves dancing in the kitchen.
I can relate. My hubs and I do this a lot as well. Sometimes it might be Ronnie James Dio while another time if might be Queen. Currently, it is Niyaz. I love Niyaz. Never heard of them? Go ahead and Google it or Youtube it. I'll wait.

thebasketmakerswife.com

Confession: I have a total crush on her. What a voice...and she zills.

Anyway, us dancing, me dancing, him dancing, it doesn't really matter. We even dance with the cats. Not all of them are fans.

This one though makes a great partner if you can handle all 20+ pounds of Link-alicious feline.

I've been bellydancing a lot the last few days. It feels good. I discovered bellydance because it was my self assignment for my master's program. One of those "give yourself permission" assignments.

Best. Assignment. Ever.

Bellydance:connect.cc

^^Irony^^

I did not dance yesterday. I played several hours of Diablo 3. Serious gamer attention given over to the eradication of the Lords of Hell. My monk is even more awesome than she was before.

Her name is Tigerlilly. 

The one I've been leveling lately though, is Little Sister. As in Winchester. I make no apologies for being that kind of fangirl. Judge me if you must. 

Little Sister can take it. She kicks ass.

However, my body is more than a little perturbed today. I did the take breaks, do some stretches, get away from the screen and do some yoga to keep myself from being completely frozen in a seated typing position. Alas! Body is cranky with me anyway. 

Solution: dance. The excruciatingly slow version of figure 8's, undulations, and chest circles feels so good! To stretch my hips over to the side and slowly roll it down and back into neutral seductively stretches those muscles exquisitely. Layering those super slow moves with a free shimmy or shoulder shimmy feels amazing.

I never really got into the whole "give yourself permission" definition because I never viewed it as needing permission. However, if giving yourself permission means stop making excuses and just do it because you really want to, well then yes. I gave myself permission to dance tonight.

Again.

Bellydance is the bomb.

Ruby Beh: the only time I ever contemplate growing out my hair.

Moment of Clarity

Into the darkness, we must go;
to emerge in the light again.

No that's it. That's my moment of clarity for tonight.
I feel a breaking of the binds. I feel a loosening of the constriction.
I can't explain why,
but it feels like a shift in the wind.

Literally. It's windy as all hell here lately with the Chinooks and all. It's been whipping up a lovely brouhaha in my noggin. I know others of my friends have felt it, too.

Did you know that the moon is in Gemini? The Geminid meteor shower was at its peak this weekend.
The wind and subsequent clouds prevented my viewing.
*ahem

Anyway, I feel a gradual calm coming over me.
This time of year always brings a mixed bag. I love the evergreens in the house. I love the tree with multicolored lights. I love the music, but the introspection that comes with the darkness can be overwhelming.
I can feel the calm before the storm.
I can feel the light coming.
It is still there.

Two Weeks

Lately I have been overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of trying to balance everything back to where I was at peace, happy, and well. I've written extensively about some stresses at work and those have not alleviated. In fact they've been compounded. I try to make good choices for me. I try to live according to my beliefs. I try to do all the things that will make me at peace, happy, and well.

I totally fail at this lately.

To begin, my health has really been a bitch lately. Between the cold snap and Thanksgiving, my health related issues have been controlling the forward progress lately. I was better about eating habits this holiday, yet I still had bloating, painful digestion, and problems with muscle, joint, and head pain. Seriously? It got to a point over the holiday where I thought to myself, "Who really gives a flying fuck? You already hurt like hell, so go ahead and eat that sweet potato souffle. Go ahead and have some pie. You made it, so why not enjoy your labors? Go ahead and have that leftover turkey on some of your sister's homemade bread." Gah! Vicious cycle. It's been one week and I have been eating better, but I still hurt like hell. I hurt before the holiday. I hurt after the holiday. I do not think the holiday is to blame. Entirely that is.

Then there's the cold. Yup, Montana winter decided enough with the playing around, it was time to get serious. Below zero all week, frozen pipes, keep your socks on during sex kind of cold. My body always reacts a little pissily to weather changes, and it prefers a warm, moist heat to the frigid, dry cold, but the pain and inflammation is really vexing me lately. The eating changes I had made had kept the pain levels during weather changes manageable and allowed me to really indulge in higher levels of activity than I had for a while, but not so anymore. Even when I eat all the right foods according to the system I had been using, I still feel like a steamy pile of crap lately. 

sodahead.com

Mmmmm, tasty.

The cold does not help. It tires me out. It makes me ache. It makes me cranky. I want my heating pad.

I don't mean to whine. That is not the purpose of this blog. I am frustrated though. No denying that one.

The pain has also impacted my ability to keep up my multiple jobs. I took on more jobs as a way to have a job I could transition into once I paid off my student loans. I have been exploring other options for over a year now, and while I have indeed bitten off more than I can chew, I have also reduced my number of work hours in an effort to curtail the negative results. Yet, the pain persists. In fact, the frequency of headaches is increasing despite my usual interventions. The twitching in my left eye is still there. It's been 4 months of this incessant twitching and it shows no sign of stopping. The right eye gets in on it every once in a while too. You know what they do for eye twitching after this long with no sign of infection? Botox or surgery. Gah!

midliferockblog.com

Why the hell is this person getting Botox injections? Maybe her eye is twitching, too.

Trying to maintain a treatment plan that keeps me at peace, happy, and well has been excruciatingly difficult lately.

I still do my morning yoga. I still do my morning strength training. I still do my meditation in the morning. However, it would seem that perhaps the 10 minutes is not enough. I thought 10 min to get back into the swing would be good, but it goes very quickly, and just when I get into it, it's over. 

I've been back to the acupuncturist a few times, but I really need to go back on a regular basis for a while. I have not had a massage since October. I really need one.

luminate-millvalley.com

Honestly, I feel so good afterward. Being a pin cushion is really relaxing. Honest.

Anyway, I still eat a diet that is richer in meats, good fats, and veggies instead of processed, carbo heavy items. I work about 15 hours less per week than I was, but I still have spiked levels of pain daily and by 6pm, I am wiped out. 

I'm not looking for advice here. I am not looking for sympathy. I'm just looking for a way to manage this situation that allows me to do what I need and what I enjoy. I want to get things back in balance. I have two full weeks until I have unmitigated free time to chill the fuck out. I really need to get through these two weeks without losing it.

Sorry, Muse. You're on your own for a bit.

I don't appreciate feeling so awful that I can't go dance. My pain and my fatigue have interfered with that enjoyment.

I don't appreciate having to come home from work because my head hurts too much to get through the afternoon.

I don't appreciate being too tired to get all the things done that I need to get done in a day.

Autoimmune disorders can suck it.

That about sums it up!

Two weeks. I have two weeks until I can sleep without an alarm. Two weeks until I can look at a computer only when I want to update my status with a ridiculous pun or witty saying. Two weeks until my body can call the shots and talk with me about what it needs.

My body and I need to get back on speaking terms rather than suck it up and deal terms. 

Rest. I really just need to rest for a while.I need to step back from the frustration of work. I need to step away from the computer screen. I need to dance. I need to eat well. I need to manage what is in my control to manage and let go of what is not. 

Once again I have to figure out how to balance all of life with the stupid autoimmune crap...

in two weeks. Over the last 6 years or so I have found a way to manage things only to then have some aspect of my life get turned on its ear and then it's back to square one.

square one vodka

Oh. I get it now. I've been at the wrong square one every time.

I can make it two more weeks.

WTF

I'm going to warn you right now, I am not entirely certain where this blog is going to go. I just know that I experienced something awful last night and it kept me from getting a decent night's sleep. It also made me feel completely rattled and shaken and yes, it made me cry. It made me cry way too much quite frankly. I am a big supporter of a good cry to get stuff out, but this was inexplicably disturbing crying. I really should not have been that distressed in my opinion. I like to think of myself as stronger than that. I like to think of myself as being equipped to handle adversity as grown up who is capable of realizing that what happened has nothing to do with me and everything to do with someone who'd had too much to drink and was being a pig.
But it really upset me and I kept replaying it in my head. You know how it is: you replay the event and suddenly all the amazing and empowered ways you could have handled the situation come pouring into your head.

But none of those scenarios played out because I froze. I mean my body went completely rigid in shock. I could not move until this douchebag took his hands off of me and I was free to flee to another area in the restaurant. I still had another song to finish the set and I was hoping that my distracted demeanor was played off as being tired from dancing for 20 minutes straight. I hoped that my shaking was hidden by the shimmies.

I suppose I should backtrack slightly. You see, I am a belly dancer. I've written about how much I adore belly dancing and what it has done for me both psychologically and physically in past posts. Belly dance is sensuous and beautiful and it makes me feel entirely feminine and graceful and lovely. I've been performing at a local restaurant with other dancers for a few years now and never before have I ever felt the humiliation or degradation I felt last night. I am used to people either being fascinated by or too scared to look at me when I dance, but I am not accustomed to being treated as an object to be debased.

I'm not entirely convinced blaming alcohol is enough of a consolation either. Him. Not me. He had obviously imbibed a bit before we started dancing, but that does not make it ok to do what he did. In public. In front of his date. In front of my fellow dancers. To me.

Standing there with his finger pulling back the waistband on my skirt, gazing down at my exposed backside and then telling me in my ear that he, "Just came. I just came all over you," paralyzed  me. I felt immediate panic and nausea and all I could do was flee. Even now, my heart is beating fast and my breath is shallow as I write about it.

And I still had at least 5 minutes of the set left to dance.

I've worked so hard to recover from the shame and confusion of having been a victim. I truly thought that if ever I was in a situation where someone touched me inappropriately or made uncomfortable advances that I would have the courage to say, "Back the fuck off you insufferable bastard." But I didn't. As I felt his eyes leering at me I was once again a trapped little girl too confused and crippled to move or mount any kind of defense.

How dare he. How dare he think it is ok to do that to another human being. How dare he try to rob me of my confidence and security.

I don't know what to do now. My lead dancer spoke to him about etiquette during the meet and greet rounds that we do afterward, but she didn't know the whole story. If she did, I think she would have ripped his head off and brought it to me as a trophy. She may be small, but I think she's got the power of the Furies if crossed.

For today, I shall breathe in and breathe out. I shall look for the good things in this day like the New Wave station on Pandora, a little demon ass-kicking, some reading of my novel, my husband, friends, and family who are outraged on my behalf and offer their support, and chocolate. Yes, chocolate is a must have.

Time to live in the present. In the here and now I am safe, secure, and loved.

A Post not Possible 20 Years Ago

I have a confession to make.
I, did not like...
Dave Matthews Band the first time I heard them.

kurmudgeonkards.com

I did find "What Would You Say" and "Ants Marching" entertaining, but to listen to Under the Table and Dreaming start to finish made me edgy.

Then, I moved in with my hubby and discovered he was a big fan. Hmmmm...

kokosnuss-agreetodisagree.blogspot.com

Honestly, I didn't think much of it at the time. Then, my husband turned 30 and I did the unthinkable. I bought us tickets to The Gorge to see DMB live.

deansomerset.com

Anyone who knows how I feel about Keanu Reeves, feel free to the enjoy the irony of my using his pic on my blog.

I was hooked. I had always found Dave's voice too nasal to listen to for extended periods of time. The great thing about seeing them live: the band plays these amazing, extending musical breaks. Don't get me wrong, Dave's voice no longer annoys me (even when he mumbles) with its nasality. I don't know what happened. Dave's voice is still nasal, but I no longer cared because this band is unbelievable in concert. Of course, this guy makes it all worthwhile.

mix947.com

I love you and your violin and your arms and your hair and your smile, Boyd Tinsley.

We've seen them live twice since. My advice-don't stay at the campground at The Gorge. Yes, DMB makes appearances at times, but it was so overcrowded and I don't even want to describe the horror that is Gorge Campground Honeypots.

redstateecelectic.typepad.com

I don't know what these people are doing, but I would rather do this for a living than use an overfull Gorge Honeypot.

Last time we saw DMB at The Gorge was over Labor Day with some friends of ours who are also big fans. My hubby had been traveling for his job and I hadn't seen him in a while, so we met at this tiny hotel with ankle eating bedboards. Our friends were at a nearby hotel and we all enjoyed ourselves ridiculously overmuch. 

Anyway, I had to share this because currently my husband and I are enjoying a full Labor Day concert at the Gorge from 2012 since we did not go this summer. We must go back though. I feel the need to sit on the hillside, under the warm evening sun of late summer, and just groove to the stylings of Dave Matthews Band and hope...just hope...they play my favorite:

DMB at The Gorge over Labor Day makes me happy.

It's a Good Day to be a Pagan

Last night I shared a wonderful meal with friends. We talked about a variety of topics including our religious views. Our little group runs the range of atheist to Christian spiritual and guess what? We're all ok with that.

www.mountainlakeschurch.org

It's what ya do.

The conversation did bring to mind a topic I've been grappling with regarding my choice of spirituality:

Why it and not others?

10. Women are Cool:  Unlike some other religions I tried on and discarded, paganism values women. Paganism never makes me feel as though I am supposed to be subservient to my husband, not allowed to lead other pagans, or in anyway property for someone to legislate or regulate.

9.  Sex is Good:  Paganism appreciates that sex is part of the natural state of being human. Expressions of sexuality should be viewed as bonding, loving, and wonderful rather than shameful or simply for procreational purposes. Sex is part of a healthy relationship and life. Deal with it.

8.  LGTB is Fine:  Paganism sees that issues of gender can be more complicated than just male or female. Gender identity is not the thing that should be dividing humanity because it is just the way things are. We need to accept that if we are ever going to move forward.

7.  No One Asks for my Money: Yeah, I have a bit of an issue with religions asking for money. While the intention is of course that money will go to charities and church services, I don't believe that's all it goes to. I know that some wealth of churches does come in the way of bequeaths after death, but still. My money and I am not giving it the church. I will give it charities they may or may have a hand in. I'm more comfortable with that arrangement than with tossing a few bucks in an envelope once a week.

6.  Dogma is What You Make It: I wrote about this aspect back in the early days of the blog. I don't have to big ol' rituals skyclad on a hilltop under the second blue moon that year with gilded altar cloths or any other nonsense I don't want to. Paganism allows me to reason for myself. If I choose to do a full blown ritual, I can. Or I can stand outside under a brilliant full moon and sigh in contentment for being alive.

5.  Paganism Digs Science:  In the world, you will find a crap ton of creation myths when you go looking for them. Some of them are really bizarre. Others are familiar. Still, they are myths. All of them. No one is more right than the other and paganism allows me to be a fan of Carl Sagan, Neil DeGrasse Tyson, and Michio Kaku unapologetically.

4.  Paganism Smells Good:  It does. Frankincense, lavender, sandalwood are fantastic. I get to use them in ritual or out of ritual and they smell fucking amazing. Growing up, I couldn't stand the incense at mass most of the time because it was too strong and usually interfered with my ability to breathe. I don't know what exactly the blend was in that little gold censer, but I was always apprehensive about incense because of it. Imagine my surprise when I got my hand on Nag Champa the first time. It smelled good. That was it. My nose was hooked on paganism's aroma therapy.

3.  I get Yoga:  Eastern practices like yoga do not breed demons to set up a party condo in your fleshy vessel. Other beliefs and philosophies are not the work of Lucifer. I can use yoga when I sit at a desk too long. I can use it to alleviate headache pain. I can listen to a variety of world spiritual leaders without condemnation. I can use yoga and meditation to start my morning off in peaceful relaxation without fear for my immortal soul.

2.  Ritual When I Need It:  Rituals of any kind provide humans with some sense of meaning and predictability. Routines are soothing whether it is the order in which you lay your clothes out before you go to bed or if you wake up on Sunday morning and need to go sit in a pew somewhere. If I need to remind myself to look for the good things as I make the upcoming transition waiting for me, I can take action with a ritual. Which is what I did this past full moon. Hadn't done one in a while, but it felt good. Something definite in setting up, writing out words, spending time in quiet contemplation helps. 

1.  It's on Me: My goodness or badness is my own choosing. I can choose to be a good person because it is the right thing, or I can do it because someone told me to do it. I tend think this is one of the beyond the scope of religion items. Fear of damnation is probably a good technique to control people as are written laws against stealing or murder. However, not doing something harmful should always be the choice regardless for the  simple fact that it is the right thing to do. My life is mine to write and the choices I make affect the here and now, not my death or my my future incarnation. My choices affect my daily interactions with other people. I want those interactions to be good and that's not always easy. My lupus etc. is managed successfully most days because I choose to eat more good food and less stuff that makes me feel horrible, not because I whispered a few incantations. My transition next week feels a little lighter today not because I received a blessing from some deity in the sun and moon. I feel more at peace because I took time to pause, reflect, and suss out a deeper meaning that sets me at ease. I made a choice for my own good. Your spiritual or religious views should never lead you to commit murder or violence against another person including yourself. Paganism places the responsibility for my actions squarely on my shoulders without making me think I should control or be controlled by others. Just me making choices.

freshbusinessman.com

It's not easy accepting responsibility for your own actions in the present. No blame. No easy absolution. Just you and me doing the best we can. We need to do better. We can do better. 

At the risk of blogging in memes, you know it's true.

thequotefactory.com

I Said No

Sometimes you gotta say no to stuff. As it stands and as most of you know, my life is busy and getting busier next week thanks to three jobs all demanding my time. Consequently, when an old acquaintance asked me to don the director's helm again for a playfestival, I had to say no.

www.forbes.com

Sometimes you have to say no because you work hard already. Sometimes you need to say no because you need to survive. Sometimes it is a little bit of both.

I absolutely love theater. I do. I miss performing sometimes. It is difficult to explain to non-theater types how it feels to work closely with a group of people to develop a kickass show. Analyzing a script, being specific about choices and actions, delving into a character who is not anything like you, and then performing that hard work in front of an audience. Honestly, nothing on earth compares. 

www.mchumor.com

Ah! The glory of live theater.

On the whole, I do not miss doing theater in this town. Part of survival means to recognize and be honest with yourself about what you want. I know from past experience that I love theater and I love working with certain people in theater. I also know that sometimes theater around here breeds negativity and backbiting. Part of why I did my own shows a few years ago was to have positive experiences with theater. Experiences that did not fall into petty arguments or personal attacks. I'll be honest, I am not without blame when it comes to the pettiness. I didn't like myself when I worked with certain groups or people. I didn't like how I felt trying to navigate the crap, the arguments, the finances, or the personalities. Those were not my proudest times ever. I like to think I have grown since then, but I am also not all that eager to jump back in the deep end of the pool.

www.toonvectors.com

There's never a No Diving sign when you need one.

Anyway, I didn't really like myself in the theater company of others and I didn't really like the actions of others in the theater including myself; hence, I said no. The decision felt good, but it also saddened me. It saddened me to realize that theater may be out of my life indefinitely. Belly dance feeds my need to perform, but it's not the same as Shakespeare. It is not Chekhov and it is not Ibsen.

www.hdwallpaperspot.com

Ibsen. F*ck.

It's a thing. I mean, do you see his hair? Be honest.

F*ck.

Such a simple word, but so many conflicted emotions in just saying no this time. I know that right now, it was the right choice. However, I hope that somewhere down the line the time will be right for me to say yes to theater again. Now though, is not the time.

Escape

Last weekend I threw caution to the wind and ran for the hills. I had to unplug. I was spending too much time in front of the computer working. My eyes had glazed over. My laptop had begun to fuse with my quads. My right hand would continually search for a mouse that wasn't there as I tried to sleep at night. Poof had started headbutting me and looking at me with alarmed eyes until I would stop to do something other than type. I had to get away.
Getting away was a good thing. It gave me some much needed quiet time to contemplate the goodness in my life. My husband and I drummed and danced in the woods. I love that. We hiked up to a nearby waterfall and continued on past it as other hikers turned back to descend the trail. I love that natural beauty is so close to my home. I don't have to drive but an hour to find such blissful beauty. We met a delightful little baby dipper who positively entertained us both.

Isn't he the cutest little ball of fluff?

We even did burpees in the woods. We're hardcore. Don't know what a burpee is? You're lucky. I didn't know what it was the first time I heard the name mentioned in the house. When my hubby defined the term for me, I said, "Fuck that shit."

Honestly, I still think, "Fuck that shit." I mean, do you see what these things are? It's like my PE teacher from elementary school took all of my least favorite exercises and mashed them together in one complete torture maneuver.

Now I am somehow wrapped up in a 90 day burpee challenge that involves adding one more burpee each day. Since it is the 14th, we did 14 burpees this morning. Despite the fact that my husband refers to my hop at the end as "cute," I have noticed that in my short time doing this that my quads are showing signs of definition, my butt jiggles only when I tell it to shimmy, and I can get to 10 without fatigue. Consequently, I am getting stronger, firmer and I made burpees my bitches in the woods.

I also remembered one of the reasons why I am able to do these fitness contrivances of evil. It's been 6 years since we quit smoking

. bikechatforums

According to this, our stroke risk is the same as non-smokers now.

While we camped, we were treated to the visits of several birds including a mallard who just decided to drop in the little pool by our tent for a quick swim before bouncing along downstream. We had woodpeckers, finches, sparrows, a hummingbird, and I heard an owl as we adjourned to the tent the first night. The owl granted us a delightful serenade as we drifted off to sleep. How fortunate we were.

We got to read a lot, too. I haven't been able to read much since our last excursion, so it was refreshing to make some camping coffee and read while it brewed before the burpee madness.

I didn't miss my computer at all. I wonder how I will be able to adjust to my day job and my two side gigs once the end of August rolls around. I have instituted my morning yoga and meditation time again. My lower back and hip flexors were tightening up from sitting at the computer. I need to stretch my muscles and quiet my mind if I am going to survive the transition. I'm not being hyperbolic. Thinking about going back to my day job keeps my mind roaring in sleepless turmoil. I did some training this week and at night I feel all anxious thinking about returning. It doesn't help that already things regarding my job are a mess and unresolved. I had hoped for a better start, but things are just as frelled. 

zazzle.com

Way.

So for now, I cling to my good stuff like being smoke free for 6 years, living in a state with countless beauty, reading epic fantasy novels, and dancing. Speaking of, I have a performance tonight. I should probably do a little prep work on that.

zahras.com

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Cat Day

August 8 a.k.a. International Cat Day
I love my cat children. They each have their quirks, their style, and their cattitude to make them distinct and individual. I am sure that if they caught wind of the sharks having an entire week while they have only one day dedicated to them, they'd be irate. Of course, they probably feel as though they do not need to have an entire week as they have been ruling the human race since the time of antiquity. I'm sure they think our observing a cat day is quaint and cute as they plot new ways to wrap around our ankle and trip us or scout for the next best place to hack a furball.
Despite this, I do adore the little feline domesticuses. As I pondered their roles in our household yesterday, I thought of a poem by T.S. Eliot. I loved discussing this poem. I would have a picture of Poof on the wall behind me and I'd tell the story of how he came to be known as Poofus Ferocicus (it was a Gladiator thing). Then I'd pop up a picture of Hissy and recount how she was like a Tasmanian devil in the cat carrier when I brought her home so she totally earned the name Hissy Fit. Lastly, I would show a picture of Link and describe how he came to us from the local rescue group. He was supposed to be quiet. He's not. He loves to talk and sing opera in the basement. Then I'd open the conversation to the group to share. It was always a lovely conversation and an enjoyable hour. I miss seeing it on my to do list in the spring. I share it with you now in honor of those furry, mischievous, cuddly, and fierce felines we all love to serve.

The Naming Of Cats by T. S. Eliot

The Naming of Cats is a difficult matter,
It isn't just one of your holiday games;
You may think at first I'm as mad as a hatter
When I tell you, a cat must have THREE DIFFERENT NAMES.
First of all, there's the name that the family use daily,
Such as Peter, Augustus, Alonzo or James,
Such as Victor or Jonathan, George or Bill Bailey--
All of them sensible everyday names.
There are fancier names if you think they sound sweeter,
Some for the gentlemen, some for the dames:
Such as Plato, Admetus, Electra, Demeter--
But all of them sensible everyday names.
But I tell you, a cat needs a name that's particular,
A name that's peculiar, and more dignified,
Else how can he keep up his tail perpendicular,
Or spread out his whiskers, or cherish his pride?
Of names of this kind, I can give you a quorum,
Such as Munkustrap, Quaxo, or Coricopat,
Such as Bombalurina, or else Jellylorum-
Names that never belong to more than one cat.
But above and beyond there's still one name left over,
And that is the name that you never will guess;
The name that no human research can discover--
But THE CAT HIMSELF KNOWS, and will never confess.
When you notice a cat in profound meditation,
The reason, I tell you, is always the same:
His mind is engaged in a rapt contemplation
Of the thought, of the thought, of the thought of his name:
His ineffable effable
Effanineffable
Deep and inscrutable singular Name.

Forgiveness

Apparently today is International Forgiveness Day. Did you know that? If not for the Yogi of Facebook, I would be clueless on this. However, I must admit that I have been ruminating on the idea of forgiveness lately. Maybe it's all the Borgia my husband and I watched last week. All that sex and violence in the Vatican needing some serious atonement ya know? Whatever brought it into my mind, it has been knocking around for a while.
I am in awe of people who find the capacity to forgive egregious sins. Mavvy Stoddard for example. This woman stood at the trial of the man we know as the bald guy with the crazy eyes who shot Gabby Giffords, and she forgave him. You see, he also shot and killed Mavvy Stoddard's husband. Despite this, Mavvy said, "I forgive you." Somehow even though this man took her husband's life, Mavvy found it within her heart to forgive. I don't know if I could voice a forgiveness of my husband's murderer just months afterward. I'd like to think I could eventually, but forgiveness takes time. I'm not sure less than a year would get me there. Forgiveness has no timetable or deadline. I think the point about not letting others recreate the world in an ugly, dark, and terrifying way that reflects their twisted and vengeful viewpoint, probably is the concept to embrace. It's that don't-let-the-bastards-grind-you-down concept. I find Mavvy's capacity for forgiveness remarkable, encouraging, and inspiring. Her forgiveness is more powerful to me because unlike  Pope John Paul or even Ronald Regan who both forgave their would be assassins, Mavvy is just a woman. She's not the leader of the world's faithful Catholics and she is not the leader of the free world. While John Paul and Ronnie set a remarkable example, as leaders they were under a bit of obligation to walk the walk ya know? For the two of them though, it is their faith that led them to their understanding of forgiveness. They saw divine providence in their survival, whereas Mavvy's husband did not survive. She had to make sense of the loss as well as the conflict of knowing who was responsible for the murder without seeking divine intervention as encouragement, and she still came to the conclusion that forgiveness was more important. That leaves me speechless.
Whether it was her faith that brought her that understanding is irrelevant. She got there. That's what is important.
The alternative I believe is devastating to a person's well being and vitality. Harboring hateful thoughts about someone or something does nothing but churn your insides against you. I think forgiveness takes time and reflection. I think it is necessary. Without forgiveness, I envision a life of dystopic porportions. Happiness requires the capacity to forgive.
I also think forgiveness does not require forgetting. Just because I forgive someone does not mean I have to let him or her back into my life. I don't have to be chums with the guy stole all my stuff out of my car one Christmas. I can forgive that person without inviting him over for dinner. I can even forgive the guy who took a six year old's hand and put it down his pants to get a handjob, but that doesn't necessitate any more contact than that. I think forgiveness can have limits.
I examine my forgivness list sometimes. If I catch myself in a grumpy ass spiral, I stop to try and figure it out. Oddly, I forgive others much more readily than I forgive myself. I am not a mass murderer or would be assassin mind you, but if I hurt someone with my words or if I feel like I have harmed someone, I have a hard time forgiving my transgression. Even apologizing or seeking forgiveness for myself, does not always alleviate the burden. Finding that way to forgiveness is just as vital for self-forgiveness as it is for others. Anyway, if you've got any forgiveness to give, today's the appointed day for all the world to release and move on.
May you always find your way to forgiveness.
Remember:

law of attraction networks

All Hail the Queen

Most people have a go to music album to suit their mood. I am no different. I have Queensryche to assist my need for cathartic singing. I have Indigo Girls for singing along on road trips. I have a host of classic metal for times when I just need to release some angst. Then I have my happy music: Queen.

My earliest memories of listening to Queen are from when I was still in elementary school. I recall going to the drive-in movie theater out by the Air Force base. It's gone now (the theater not the base), but I distinctly recall hearing Queen over the little metal speaker. I remember waiting for the movie to start and hearing this song begin:

Love his hat in that one. Good ol' Freddie and his fashion choices.

I remember how that bass line just caught my attention. I asked my parents if they could turn up the speaker, which I don't think they were thrilled about doing. Perhaps they were just surprised; I have no idea, but I was quite taken with the song. It's still one that I turn up louder when it comes on the radio.

I also recollect when Queen performed at Live Aid. I tuned in mainly for U2, but Queen's set blew my little fifth grade mind! Freddie's strutting and Brian May with his signature hair, what more can you ask for right? You can catch the whole set at Rollingstone's Video Flashback.  I defy you not to sing and clap along with "Radio Ga-Ga." Mercury was a master at getting the crowd as evidenced by his echo response vocalization after "Ga-Ga." I think it was the first time I really connected the name Queen with the songs I had heard on the radio.

In high school I was treated to their soundtrack for Highlander.

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Christopher Laaaaaaaam-bert. Thus began my Scottish fetish. 

 

Still one of the most stirring rock ballads I have ever known. Breathtaking and heartbreaking at the same time. Astounding. This is what a benchmark looks like.

Thing is, I never owned a Queen album growing up. It wasn't until college that I realized how great having access to their collection was. My college roommate had volumes 1&2 and it made excellent homework music or play cards music. It was due to her influence that I first heard this, my favorite Queen song:

At work, the Queen station on Pandora is a staple of my day. It is generally safe from expletives save live The Who songs and it always gives me a boost when I am low. I was appalled when Pandora's algorithm tried to sneak "Ice, Ice Baby" in. As if I wouldn't notice! Grrr. I stopped that dead in its tracks with an indignant thumbs down.

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Uh-huh-uh Pandora. 

Forgive the gap--Blogger seems to think Nedry needs a big lead in.

A friend of mine will be getting married soon. She is thinking of having this song as her wedding march:

I don't think there's anything to think about. It's the perfect song for a wedding. I highly encourage her to just do it.  

And there you have it. My go to happy music. It makes me sing. It makes me dance. It makes me feel good. If you can't sing along to at least one Queen song besides "Bohemian Rhapsody" or "We Will Rock You/We are the Champions," you are missing out. If you don't like Queen, I don't think we can be friends. 

All hail the Queen!

 

Retreat

*whew*
*ah*
*contented sigh*
*gasp in awe*
These are all reactions that our usual summer vacation spot conjures within me. Maybe it is all the treasured memories of friends laughing, playing games, and making fantastic meals together over the campfire. Perhaps it is all the wildlife or the sublime scenery.
Maybe it is the skinny dipping.

 Whatever "it" is, this lake has it.
Each year my husband and I make our great escape to the lake. This year we took ten whole days to enjoy our favorite place on earth.
One of our past times at the lake is to read. I read a lot at the lake. This year I got books one and two of the ten volume epic fantasy series Malazan Book of the Fallen by Steven Erikson done. Highly recommend it to anyone who loves an epic fantasy series, but after book one, they just seem to get bigger. Seriously, if you have trouble getting a 400 page novel down, then buckle up for 800 or more pages of thrilling battle sequences, intrigue, spellcasting, and characters that fall into big holes called warrens. I also reread Armand by Anne Rice (FYI, Armand in the movie Interview with the Vampire looks nothing like the description of Armand. One of her best Vampire Chronicle novels in my opinion.) as well as a book for my online book club, Death by Drowning by Abigail Keam. Unfortunately, that is book two in a three part series and I feel I really missed something by not having read book one. I also got half way through Wild Ride by Jennifer Crusie and Bob Mayer. I would have finished that one (it's a fast read) at the lake too if we hadn't left the lake two hours earlier than we planned on. I enjoy it more than I thought I would honestly. How could I not enjoy a book that opens with a thank you to Joss Whedon for Buffy? I love having time to just devour a few good books without interruption other than the occasional swim or campfire meal.
Another favorite is playing games. We love to play Phase 10, Set, Skip Bo (Although we never quite remember the rules and I am sure our version is just a "variation."), Canasta, Munchkin, and this year, I even played cribbage. I think the last time I played cribbage I was also camping with the same set of friends. Anyway, we also tried Kill Dr. Lucky. Fun game--think Clue, only the series of events before you play Clue are the focus. Your goal is to kill Dr. Lucky by any means necessary (I tried whacking him with my broom, pummeling by pumps, strangling by apron, and suffocating by pantyhose. Yeah, my attempts were never with the weapon cards; I had to use what items my maid character had on hand.) Beware his dog though; that little beast will try to foil you every time.
Along with the activities, there is also my checklist of wildlife. I always hope for moose of course, but so far I have only managed a dead moose on the trail and sightings of moose droppings. I did see the biggest frog of the lake to date. Usually their bodies are 1-2 inches, but this guy's body was 4-5! Then there are all the tiny fish that swim around you as you try to convince yourself to actually get submerged for a swim. My husband made several attempts at fishing this year. The bats made night fishing difficult and during the day, the fish seemed more intent on teasing him than anything else. Garter snakes are another popular visitor. Listening to loons at night is lovely as is seeing a bald eagle flying overhead as you float on the lake's surface. Deer are frequent and this year we had even more daily visitations than usual.

They seemed to be particularly fond of the shrubbery just behind our tent. Hummingbirds are another guest that I look forward to. I almost thought that I wouldn't see any this trip, but I saw two. One had a higher pitch hum than usual, but he was brilliant red. The other one was probably female because she was mostly tan, but she took a breather in the pine tree so I got a good look at her. Turtles are also residents, but you don't always see them unless you are using goggles when you swim. My hubby managed to capture a turtle in a picture.

See that dot near the bottom directly below the swift? That's a turtle poking its head up to check out what we were up to.

My husband saw a beaver, which I've never seen. You can readily see their handiwork if you walk the trail to the falls, but to see an actual beaver, never happened. There are also a variety of squirrels, chipmunks, and even mice. At the site that we frequently reserve, a black mouse makes his appearance in the morning and returns in the evening. You may catch a glimpse. He's also responsible for chewing the hole in the bottom of our tent last year.  Bears have been spotted there, but not by us. We've seen pictures of bears walking the lake edge when we were sleeping in our tent, but never with our own eyes, which is probably just fine.
This year, we did not escape medical complications unfortunately. I was hoping to, but alas! Our friend was struck with heat stroke. The first days we were there were unusually hot and she had been there the day prior to our arrival which was also intensely hot. She did make a full recovery, but what an awful experience when you are camping. Then, my husband's ax decided to attack. Thankfully he was not swinging the ax at the time, but he had sharpened it to chop wood. Consequently, when it fell off the stump it struck his ankle clean to the bone. Apparently I am squeamish. I always knew I couldn't watch my own blood be drawn, but other people's blood draws didn't bug me. I can watch a video of a surgery online and not get sickened, but when I helped my husband bandage his wound, we came up with a scale of nausea inducement called Hurl Factor. I honestly tasted the sour bile in my mouth and had to look away when I saw the fat layer and sliced tissue. Had we been home, we'd have gone straight to the ER for stitches, but since we were 30 minutes from the nearest medical clinic which would be closed by the time we arrived and about 90 minutes from Missoula, we made due with our first aid kit. His ankle also is doing mighty fine for being in the woods during the healing with nothing but butterfly and waterproof bandages, gauze, tape, and antibiotic ointment.
One of the best parts of the lake though is witnessing a thunderstorm. Holy buckets you need to hear the thunder echo off those mountains. Granted, this year's thunderstorm started with a torrential hailstorm that we drove through when we were returning from an ice run. Coincidence humor there I tell ya. Anyway, the hail was about the size of shooter marbles and we had to pull over briefly. It coated the highway to look like snow and it was so loud on the roof of the truck that we had to shout at each other to be heard. Once that stopped though, we did have one glorious thunderstorm and some mighty fine fog the next morning.

The sunburst on that last one looks like a portal to another world.

Anyway, we have returned to the real world. My face is one big freckle and my husband's ankle continues to heal. The laundry is done and the supplies packed away. The felines have forgiven our absence. We've been camping at this lake together for roughly 20 years. I can't imagine a better way to spend our vacation than at the lake's shores. It is where we rest, recharge, and revel in each other's company. It is where close friends burn the snot out of ham buried in a fire's coals. It is where friends braved the soggy June weather because we were 18 and freshly out of high school and didn't know any better. It is where the daughter of our closest friends got married to her wonderful husband. So many glorious memories and more to be made. 

Blessed be, Lake. See you next year.

What a Piece of *$#* Is Man Sometimes

What a piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how
infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and
admirable, in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like
a god! the beauty of the world, the paragon of animals—and yet,
to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me—
nor woman neither, though by your smiling you seem to say so.

If you don't know, that passage is from Hamlet. It's one of my favorite moments where Hamlet ponders the unbelievable nobility and grace of humanity. Despite his awe though, he is not moved by what he sees. I've had a few days to ponder humanity myself. On the one hand, humanity is truly amazing. On the other, humanity is hopelessly bereft of anything but cruelty. This befuddling duality of humanity has been on my mind.

Last week, I had occasion to spend a few days in a tree house cabin with some friends of mine. This gathering was a pre wedding retreat for a friend. Unfortunately, my body decided this was the perfect time to succumb to a nasty cold. My husband also received some distressing news on the day that our little hen party was to begin. During the four day retreat, I received some of the most compassionate and kind acts. My friends knew I was ill and they got me some medicine to help my cough and congestion. They knew I was in a bit of shock and worry about my husband's news and took measures to help me relax and take care of myself. They listened, helped me laugh, and supported me the whole weekend without me ever needing to ask. This is what friends do for one another. They not only looked out for me and did not razz me about coughing all night long (although I am sure it must've been awful sleeping for some of them), they did the same for each other when little quandaries popped up. In this small group of women, I was able to observe laughter and merriment and support that exemplified how humanity can indeed be angelic and beautiful among the Earth's creatures.

Conversely, I also experienced the other side of "this quintessence of dust" that definitely did not delight me. As those of you who have been reading know I have been struggling with changing jobs and trying to maintain happiness even when the bastards try to keep me down. Just before this tree house trip I got an invitation to interview for a part time job via my free lance site. I sent an inquiry for more information and was excited that this person thought I'd be perfect for the job. I let her know that I had some non-negotiable time off for vacations and weddings and she seemed fine. I even told her that come fall, my time would be somewhat more limited, so answering her messages during certain times of the day might be difficult. She wasn't worried. I eagerly awaited my first job assignment when I returned from my tree house adventure. 

As I understood it, my job was to cover making travel arrangements for her, responding to messages for her when she was away, scheduling, and at times purchasing needed items and shipping them to charities like orphanages. I didn't think much of it because it promised $400 a week, which would build up nicely toward purchasing our own medical insurance, a down payment on a new truck for my husband, and it would alleviate some financial burden about paying my student loan. Awesome right? Well, my first job assignment shows up two days late and it is a check for just under $2000. Right away, I am surprised and a bit confused. I was expecting directions and new employee paperwork and a task assignment list. I email my new boss and she says that since the shopping list for this orphanage is so large, shipping all the supplies would be difficult and that she had "reached an accord" with the director of the facility who would buy the items herself. All I needed to do was deposit, wait, and then Money Gram the money less my weekly salary to this person. Sound fishy? It did to me and to my husband as well. It sounded gloriously easy mind you, but it also made me a little apprehensive. Consequently, we did some Googling and found a check fraud scam from a few years ago that hit Craigslist. Same M.O. and almost identical circumstances. I was crushed. Not only would this put the skids on some of our plans, but it meant someone was using my freelance site for nefarious purposes. It also meant that someone (probably a lot of someones) is out there preying on people who are trying to find work and earn a living, but who will end up committing fraud and being held accountable for all the money he or she transferred unknowingly. Thankfully, I had done nothing with the money. 

Humanity can be noble and admirable in its infinite faculty. It can also be cruel, predatory, and awful. Trying to keep believing in the innate goodness of humanity is damned difficult when you experience the other side of humanity. For now, I am eternally thankful for the wonderful women with whom I had the delight of spending a few days in a tree house eating good food, playing ladder ball in tacky formal wear, and going to the hot springs. They do delight me greatly as they are all strong, capable women of integrity and compassion. For this other woman who tried and failed to take advantage of me, I say:

fivefullplates.com

Free Time

What a lovely weekend.
Due to a hiccup in the flow of posted assignments, my article writing took a hiatus this weekend. I suddenly found myself with all this unobstructed free time. I could spend my weekend unencumbered by deadlines and AP style.
I met with a friend for coffee to start things off. I finally got to bike on Sat. since the weather decided to stop the rain long enough to have some sunshine. So I biked downtown for coffee with a friend. I was treated to the sound of many a person out grooming their lawn. Many kids out running around enjoying a preview of summer to come. It was a delightful venture on my bike just enjoying the lovely warmth and outside recreation of a sunny June day. I was also quite thrilled to find the coffeehouse put in a funky little bike rack which is of course shaped like a coffee mug. I thought I'd have to hunt for a rack, but nope! There was one right outside the shop's window. Way cool.
I spent a lovely couple of hours getting caught up with my friend. We haven't actually seen each other in months. She's been occupied. I've been occupied. We've been on opposite frequencies. For two delightful hours though, we chatted and enjoyed one another's company. It was sublime.
Then I biked myself home and my hubby and I decided to go have lunch. Lunch could have been better, but just sharing a meal out with my honey was delightful. After stuffing ourselves, we went and met a newborn baby.
Some friends of ours just had their first baby. She's a delight. Of course, she slept most of the time we were there, but oh my goodness is she cute. She's tiny and her chin is kinda sucked in like an old man who is missing his dentures. That's how her mother describes it and I have to agree it is an apt description. She's also a new member of the crooked pinky club. This wee one is lovely. Our good friends are her grandparents and their boy whom we have known since he was 11 or 12 is the daddy. It's a little surreal. I was fine until we got up to leave and I hugged this young man. It just brought tears to my eyes to think of this young person whom I have known so long being a father. It's humbling and he and his wife have so much love for this baby it's palpable. Pure joy.
Last night my hubby and I started a Netflix series. Have you watched Hemlock Grove? It's very melodramatic, but I'm intrigued so I am sure we will continue. It is rather soap opera-ish at moments, but I do so love Lili Taylor I can't help but watch. It's got a slight Twin Peaks season one feel to it.
Today, there still were no assignments available so I made some editing corrections for another article and spent the rest of the day as I saw fit. I would have loved to be in the garden, but yesterday was too muddy and today it was back to rain. Not that I am complaining because we really do need the rain, but a little yard time would have been nice.
So I gamed instead. I did.  A lot.  It was great. I did my usual morning routine of reading a bunch of articles about the state of the world as it is, but then I got to obliterate some demons with my monk. She's totally a badass.
I took a break to go have a bedlah set fitting. Our belly dance costumer got her order in from Turkey and she was afraid the set I ordered would not fit. Luckily though not only did my green set fit, it has a peacock color to the sequins which is fantastic. Not only did the green one work, but the wine colored one did, too! Huzzah!
Now the weekend draws to a close and I am content. How wonderful free time is. I had forgotten.

3 weeks gone

Nope-haven't fallen off the planet yet. I've just kept myself insanely busy with my jobs. My essay tutor job is on hiatus until summer break. I could pick up shifts, but I don't want to just yet. I will though. I got my evaluation for this semester and it was quite positive. A lot of growth apparently, so I don't want to get too rusty before my regular summer shift picks up in July.

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I'm the best!

My article writing gig gives me a great boost. I get paid precisely squat mind you, but I have built up enough of a nest egg to buy my own gaming computer. I will also be getting the latest MS Office for my work mind you, but this summer my hubby and I can game together or separately, which is beyond awesome. I have achieved Inferno level in Diablo III with my monk, so I need a serious machine to reflect my prowess. Not really, but the laptop I've had for seven years is taking far more upkeep and its MS Office is simply not prepared for the gauntlet I shall throw down this summer.

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I'll use it for work, too. Geez.

A new computer will also open up the voice over work I've been toying with for a year. My excuse not to explore this avenue has been the lack of adequate technology. This upgrade will remove my excuses and hopefully propel me into yet another money making possibility. I know; I'm too busy already, but my regular gig ends in two weeks, so summer is mine to explore new opportunities.

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Nope--not gonna do it!

Why do I do all of this? Because it has become abundantly clear to me that I cannot speak of my regular gig without ranting. One must choose the rant audience wisely. It's not like I am George Carlin, a master of the rant in my opinion, and people will pay to listen to me rant. In fact, most of the time I am apparently considered unflappable. No, really. Those are someone else's words not mine.Therefore, when I rant, it tends to make people nervous. Consequently, I must be highly selective about who I rant to. So far I have squarely one person to rant to. Thankfully he loves me too much to have me committed just yet.

panicked-chick.blogspot.com

It's a wonder he hasn't. Really.

A close friend asked me about my job last weekend. I started to discuss it. I had every intention of being calm and logical. My Goat was prepared to thoughtfully engage the topic, but then I could feel this ball of frustration churning in my gut as I tried to explain about how it is May and I still don't have all of my supplies. These are supplies that are required for the job I do at the command of my bosses and they are materials that I can't just pop over to Walmartia and grab. They are pricey and must be ordered through the head office.
They haven't been because the grant ran out and there's no more money.
It's also copyrighted material so I cannot make photocopies.
Like I said, churning in my belly.

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I hate how it feels.

Then my mom asked me about work Friday night. Mind you, she used to do this job. She did it for 30 years. She got out at the right time. Anyway, she asked me and again, the rant began to build. Since I was with family and I had a little shiraz in me, I let fly the angst. Oops. Wrong audience. I think I shocked her. I did however make it plain that I have every intention of leaving this profession. My sister has left the profession. She is a librarian now and she believes strongly that she wouldn't have been able to retire if she had not moved to the library.
I don't want to be a librarian.

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Totally me in the library.

I also don't want to have this overwhelming boiling point of rantiness every time someone innocently asks me about my job. It saddens me beyond belief, yet I know that there does not appear to be another road for me. The one I've been on for twelve years seems to be at an end.
Interestingly, when someone asks about my side gigs that pay squat, I beam. I don't care that for an article I typically get less than minimum wage. I love it. I research topics and then I get to write my perspective on the topic given a 2-3 word focus from the client. I wrote articles on everything from freezing vodka to bigfoot to why soap is a base not an acid this week. It totally rocks! It just pays exactly nothing compared to my regular job. I'm sure there's a writing union out there somewhere that I can join and get medical coverage like actors have. Freelance writers have to have insurance, right? Insurance is my next big hurdle to freedom. Must find a way to maintain medical coverage after I leave my profession.

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That would be about it.

If you are still looking for the point to all of this, it is the rant is an artform. You must choose your audience wisely. You cannot simply rant to anyone and I do not feel free to rant online via social media. I cannot rant to my bosses in any way shape or form. They get wacky notions that making me spend the day with a different age population will solve everything.
They are wrong.
I love a good rant. I enjoy watching Carlin and other comedians just go to town with their righteous indignation. They can make us laugh with their brutal honesty. Rants come from a place of passion. When we care so deeply about a topic or a situation, we get personally involved and it becomes who we are. It is one way we define ourselves. Unfortunately, there will always be someone who tries to take that from you. They will make changes to things. They will make commandments. They will not listen. They will not offer useful counsel. When these become the norm, then the rant bubbles over. When you can no longer suffer your own rant, it's time to break free and find that happiness again no matter how heartbreaking or devastating the consequence.
I will grieve what I lose, but I will celebrate what I gain.

nabz-iran.com

Copy to be written later.

Great Rite Indeed

I love Beltane. I love any holiday that celebrates love and sex as the beautiful, honest and amazing expression of nature that it is. Sex has this tendency to make people uncomfortable and weird. I admit, I had hang ups about sex, too. I still do not understand some elements of what gets people in the mood. Just watch TLC's {strange} SEX some time if you don't know what I mean. It's not for me to get and that isn't the point anyway.
The point being that Beltane freed me from some of those hang ups. It helped me to see sexuality as something to be honored and explored and respected. I find that a far healthier understanding of sex than telling a teenager that he or she should not masturbate because it is a sin. If that's true--if it's a sin--then animals like monkeys and dolphins are sinful creatures doomed to hell. Satan can open a zoo for the world's sinful masturbators and they can all sit around getting off together. Quite the image right? Makes no sense to me whatsoever.
What does make sense to me is the fact that humans like sex. It feels good. It makes us all warm and tingly in  really exciting places. It is a basic drive that we share with the living world around us. It doesn't matter what kind of sex you are into. I don't think so anyway provided that no one is harmed. If the parties involved are consenting adults, it's not my business who wants to get busy with whom and how they get the deed done is even less of my business.
I may not understand everyone's sex drive, but I can say to each his or her own path on this one. I think what is important is not being ashamed about sex. Too many people feel shame for their sex life or choices whether due to religion, family or other psychological issue. I know I did for a long time. Between religion and being coerced into sex acts before I understood what they were, I had some stuff to clean out of my psyche. I found my boundaries on sex, too. I'm not all open and out there indulging with no limits; privacy and decorum I think are valuable. However, I am much more expressive and accepting of my libido. I can see the sexual side of myself as something beautiful, sacred, and holy rather than sinful, dirty and offensive.
Studying paganism brought me that understanding. Finding the true intention of Beltane helped me heal. It helped me accept. It helped me.
Merry Beltane wishes.

Two join as one,

The moon and the sun.

On this night,

Of Beltane delight,

One in spirit,

One in body.

Merry be the union.

Blessed be the rite.