My mind is nearly blank, but I haven't written in my blog for six months so I guess I'll try . . . . . . . No, can't think of a thing that hasn't already been said by millions of other people. Re-read my blog from six months ago and that just about said it all. I suppose I could die now and . . . better not say that; I have loved ones who worry about me.
Okay, lemme say this much: The biggest mystery in life for me is the way so many people claim to love Jesus Christ yet don't live by his words and teachings. Yeah, I want a good, solid answer to that question. Takers?
My dreams, hopes, fears and attempts to befriend the Bandersnatch and slay the Jabberwocky.
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Sunday, March 11, 2012
Imagine . . .
The other night while I sat at the computer the television was on in the other room and I listened to Reverand Al Sharpton talking to Martin Luther King's eldest son. They were talking about the current march to stop voter suppression, but they also talked about the original Selma to Montgomery march in 1965. During their discussion MLK III talked about shooters coming to his family's home when he was a toddler. He talked about it almost casually, like this is something that happens to everyone. I cried.
Why? Why are people bigots? What is it about someone whose skin is a different color than "white" that makes him such a target of hatred? And I'm not just talking about African-Americans, but let's start there. Imagine yourself as a child again and your family moving into a particular neighborhood because your mom or dad found work nearby and discovering everyone in your neighborhood hates you. You don't know why, you know you did nothing wrong. And then, in a hateful tone, someone calls you a name that represents something over which you have no control--the color of your skin or your ancestry. Soon someone spits on you and tells you you can't sit near them, or eat at a restaurant with them, or use a public restroom. Then someone throws a rock through a window in your home, or sets something on fire in your yard. Then they shoot at you. And all because . . . you're different from them? Why, in the name of God . . . oh, that's right, some bigots say they're speaking for God. "God made different races for a reason and they should never mix!" But they can't explain the reason; they just take God's word for it. Not all bigots are bigots because they think God is telling them to be bigots; I can almost understand the God reasoning. If you really believe God is telling you to do something, well . . . The worst bigots have no reason at all, and seem to be proud of it. "People of a different race than mine are inferior, and screw you if you want an explanation. I'm superior because of my whiteness and if it makes no sense to you you're welcome to leave the planet."
I believe in karma and reincarnation so I understand the concept of learning from mistakes and moving on. But if you're a fundamentalist you believe in having 1 shot at being a good enough person to make it to heaven when you die--or at least, pergatory. We are children--learning, learning, learning. But one of my hardest lessons is overcoming my hatred of people I call "stupid." When I think bigots and people with whom I disagree are "stupid," I'm not advancing myself on the karmic path; I'm staying right on the part of the path occupied by the bigots. I'm standing there, wasting time calling them names instead of moving closer to a better relationship with God. Why is it so hard for me to walk away from these people? The greater part of their ignorance is in recognizing (especially if they believe in a God) that God sees us all in equal light, or so I believe. Of course, I could be wrong. God doesn't call me up and have conversations with me any more than he talks things over with bigots, so I fall back on common sense. And even though I don't agree with Judge Judy politically, I tend to agree with her statement that ". . . if something doesn't make sense, it's not true."
And of course bigotry goes beyond skin color. Last week I read an article about one of Barak Obama's former nannies. She's a trans-gendered "man" who lives in Indonesia. Apparently in Indonesia (as well as many other parts of the world) homosexuals and trans-genders are treated miserably. A trans-gendered person in Indonesia will usually be left alone unless he/she is "pretending" to be what he/she "is not," then he/she will be beaten or killed. According to the President's former nanny, she is only safe if she lives as a man or lives as a woman and prostitutes herself. She chooses the former and prays for a better life. (Some of us who read the article are in touch with the White House on this issue. We who support the President are assuming he was unaware of this woman's plight until she was tracked down and interviewed by the AP.)
The article was online and allowed for comments. I read nearly two pages of comments and found only 1 person who sounded sympathetic. I was amazed. I also constantly have to remind myself of my naivete' regarding a huge portion of the population who don't see things my way. I pondered commenting for a while and then decided to pull up my best spiritual teachings and said:
Why? Why are people bigots? What is it about someone whose skin is a different color than "white" that makes him such a target of hatred? And I'm not just talking about African-Americans, but let's start there. Imagine yourself as a child again and your family moving into a particular neighborhood because your mom or dad found work nearby and discovering everyone in your neighborhood hates you. You don't know why, you know you did nothing wrong. And then, in a hateful tone, someone calls you a name that represents something over which you have no control--the color of your skin or your ancestry. Soon someone spits on you and tells you you can't sit near them, or eat at a restaurant with them, or use a public restroom. Then someone throws a rock through a window in your home, or sets something on fire in your yard. Then they shoot at you. And all because . . . you're different from them? Why, in the name of God . . . oh, that's right, some bigots say they're speaking for God. "God made different races for a reason and they should never mix!" But they can't explain the reason; they just take God's word for it. Not all bigots are bigots because they think God is telling them to be bigots; I can almost understand the God reasoning. If you really believe God is telling you to do something, well . . . The worst bigots have no reason at all, and seem to be proud of it. "People of a different race than mine are inferior, and screw you if you want an explanation. I'm superior because of my whiteness and if it makes no sense to you you're welcome to leave the planet."
I believe in karma and reincarnation so I understand the concept of learning from mistakes and moving on. But if you're a fundamentalist you believe in having 1 shot at being a good enough person to make it to heaven when you die--or at least, pergatory. We are children--learning, learning, learning. But one of my hardest lessons is overcoming my hatred of people I call "stupid." When I think bigots and people with whom I disagree are "stupid," I'm not advancing myself on the karmic path; I'm staying right on the part of the path occupied by the bigots. I'm standing there, wasting time calling them names instead of moving closer to a better relationship with God. Why is it so hard for me to walk away from these people? The greater part of their ignorance is in recognizing (especially if they believe in a God) that God sees us all in equal light, or so I believe. Of course, I could be wrong. God doesn't call me up and have conversations with me any more than he talks things over with bigots, so I fall back on common sense. And even though I don't agree with Judge Judy politically, I tend to agree with her statement that ". . . if something doesn't make sense, it's not true."
And of course bigotry goes beyond skin color. Last week I read an article about one of Barak Obama's former nannies. She's a trans-gendered "man" who lives in Indonesia. Apparently in Indonesia (as well as many other parts of the world) homosexuals and trans-genders are treated miserably. A trans-gendered person in Indonesia will usually be left alone unless he/she is "pretending" to be what he/she "is not," then he/she will be beaten or killed. According to the President's former nanny, she is only safe if she lives as a man or lives as a woman and prostitutes herself. She chooses the former and prays for a better life. (Some of us who read the article are in touch with the White House on this issue. We who support the President are assuming he was unaware of this woman's plight until she was tracked down and interviewed by the AP.)
The article was online and allowed for comments. I read nearly two pages of comments and found only 1 person who sounded sympathetic. I was amazed. I also constantly have to remind myself of my naivete' regarding a huge portion of the population who don't see things my way. I pondered commenting for a while and then decided to pull up my best spiritual teachings and said:
I pray to God that someday I'll have the words to speak that will change the minds and hearts of the ignorant, the bigots, and the totally closed-minded. I also pray for the ability to love all beings even if I hate what they say or the way they think. Babaji bless us all, especially the people who must live their lives in a world full of people who hate them for the way God made them.
I was notified there had been responses to my comment and I decided to steel myself and read them. In addition to one that said, "Oh, cry me a river," I'd received 5 'thumbs downs.' But the following was one for the bigotry hall of fame:
- Druneric: You don't have the first class idea what Christian or being one is all about. Your a athesit. Better read about what God says about Homosexuals . See Leviticus 18:22- or 1st cronithians 6:9. Obama knew his nammy was gay and Obama is gay as well. That is why he was in support of Gay rights. You can't live two ways. Either for God or not for God.You say you pray for Babaji. You must be one of those freek Iraq. Why don't you go back and live In Iraq since you love that country so much, Get out of Clevland Ohio and pray for your idol your false Gods and see if they can help you. Your a phoney like your brother Barrack Obama.
Once again, because I'm naive, I was appalled. My best spiritual senses told me to ignore, ignore, ignore. The part of my soul determined to stay on the path with the bigots made me say:
- Huh, I just discovered I had responses to my post. None of you has probably ever heard of Babaji, so let's use the man Jesus instead. I can't tell if all of you consider yourselves Christians--8 Ball Man obviously does. Being a Christian means you believe in the teachings of Jesus Christ. Do you honestly think Jesus would pat any of you on the back and say, "Hey! Good work being snarky and hating people." Yeesh. Get an education.
Two steps forward, one step back.
Monday, February 27, 2012
Why I'm Liberal, and Still a Democrat
You know, now that I think about it, there is never a true separation of church and state. All legislation is written by people who believe in a 'something' or a 'nothing.' And the agnostic or atheistic politicians do have to take into account the way their opinions will effect all the people--ideally. I'd be just as distressed if a member of congress were trying to pass legislation that banned all forms of religious worship as I am about Rick Santorum's religious fascism.
I think the thing that continues to amaze me most are the Santorums of the political world. Now, unless there's a version of the bible none of the rest of us has been privy to, Santorum's interpretation, especially of the new testament, is almost impossible to understand. In the bible I've read Jesus didn't ask people if they really tried to pull themselves up by their bootstraps before he helped them. He didn't interview them to determine whether or not they were lazy before he helped them. He didn't take countless applications requesting assistance from applicants unable to work, then make them wait while He made a determination as to their worthiness. He advised all the people not to throw stones at each other because we've all been guilty of some wrong-doing at one time or another. He advised us to "go, and sin no more," knowing full-well most of us are incapable of living out our lives without slipping at some point. He told us God forgives all, and that we the people are instructed to do the same; which, as we all know isn't easy at times. I'll be the first to admit, there are days when I look at the people holding signs on the street corners asking for cash assistance when I judge them harshly. Those are usually the days when I'm in a rotten mood, or I have to do something I really don't want to do. On a "good" day, I pray for them, smile at them, and yes, sometimes give them money if I have it to spare.
The thing that bothers me about so many Republicans these days on the topic of charity is that they just don't seem to believe all societies have always and may always harbor citizens who truly cannot take care of themselves. I know there are people, some I know personally, whose full-time "job" seems to be not having a job and figuring out ways to take advantage of friends, family and "the system." But we can't turn our backs on everyone in need because some of them might be conning us. I believe that in every society the fortunate should help the less-fortunate. And if the fortunate are smart, a large part of that help should come in the form of handing the less-fortunate the best opportunity for education, unless the fortunate are planning to go out themselves and fix our infrastructure. And one does not need to be highly educated in order to work at jobs societies cannot operate without, but those jobs should pay a living wage. When I was growing up in the 50's the garbage collectors, as we called them, owned homes, cars and could support more than 1.5 children.
Those are some of the reasons I'm liberal, but the reason I said I'm still a Democrat is that I'm no longer blindly loyal to the party. Corporate greed has infiltrated both parties. It would be incredibly time-consuming to examine every last politician and his voting record, so I remain a Democratic voter as I consider the Dems the lesser of the two evils. I admire many past and present Democrats, but some these days are bought and paid for by corporate interests as surely as many Republicans. But if Eisenhower were alive and the country could run the way it was run during his administration, I'd probably vote for a Republican for the first time in my life. I was raised in a Democratic environment. My family had its share of Republicans, but usually their logic for switching parties was flawed. For instance, I had an uncle who hated JFK because it was said JFK's father was a crook. And there was no arguing with my uncle. Apparently he believed the sins of the father should be visited on the son, forget all the good changes brought about by Kennedy and Johnson.
My friend Doug on facebook posted the following from an anonymous contributor and it pretty much sums up, in a sarcastic way, the reasons I'm still a Democrat these days:
Fifteen Reasons Why I Vote for Republicans
-by a Proud Republican
1. I voted Republican because you can blame problems on poor people instead of the rich ones who actually run things.
2. I voted Republican because firefighters and teachers are
scum-sucking leaches, but the oil companies raking in record profits NEED those hundreds of millions in taxpayer subsidies.
3. I voted Republican because I believe companies like my cable TV provider, insurance company and credit card company could do a better job running the country than the government, no matter how much they screw me over.
4. I voted Republican because I don’t trust the government, although I favored the government spying on my health/financial records and tapping my phone when Bush was in office to keep us safe from "terrists."
5. I voted Republican because I don't really care whether terrorists, murderers and drug dealers own guns or not.
6. I voted Republican because I believe climate change doesn't
exist; if I can't see it with my own two eyes, it doesn't exist--like
gravity.
7. I voted Republican because I hate women having abortions, but
once the baby is born and dies from a preventable illness, that's okay.
8. I voted Republican because I believe in laying off workers to
boost profits; then I get to complain about lazy unemployed people.
9. I voted Republican because I understand capitalism. Demand
doesn’t increase jobs…ensuring corporations pay no taxes and cutting healthcare and education does.
10. I voted Republican because I care about the deficit and support cutting services that I really need. But extra tax cuts for the super rich who actually caused the deficit should be extended indefinitely.
11. I voted Republican because I believe in never having to solve
any problems in the government and I insist government is the problem anyway.
12. I voted Republican because I hate activist judges, unless they
are conservative (Yes, corporations should get to spend unlimited money in elections).
13. I voted Republican because spite and fear is better than hope and change.
14. I voted Republican because I agree that life begins at the moment of conception and ends at birth, and that women are incapable of making their own reproductive choices.
15. I voted Republican because B. Hussein Obama is a secret Kenyan born Muslim- negro-far-left-wing-extremist-liberal-socialist with a dark evil secret agenda to destroy America, take my guns, ammunition and freedom, and turn them all over to Islamic extremists and homosexuals who will rob, rape and murder me, my wife, my girlfriends, and my children, and force the abortion of my unborn children.
-a Proud Republican
You know the thing I hate most about many politicians? They so willingly tell lies in order to be elected. It's too bad our government has to become this corrupt before all the people begin to take notice.
I think the thing that continues to amaze me most are the Santorums of the political world. Now, unless there's a version of the bible none of the rest of us has been privy to, Santorum's interpretation, especially of the new testament, is almost impossible to understand. In the bible I've read Jesus didn't ask people if they really tried to pull themselves up by their bootstraps before he helped them. He didn't interview them to determine whether or not they were lazy before he helped them. He didn't take countless applications requesting assistance from applicants unable to work, then make them wait while He made a determination as to their worthiness. He advised all the people not to throw stones at each other because we've all been guilty of some wrong-doing at one time or another. He advised us to "go, and sin no more," knowing full-well most of us are incapable of living out our lives without slipping at some point. He told us God forgives all, and that we the people are instructed to do the same; which, as we all know isn't easy at times. I'll be the first to admit, there are days when I look at the people holding signs on the street corners asking for cash assistance when I judge them harshly. Those are usually the days when I'm in a rotten mood, or I have to do something I really don't want to do. On a "good" day, I pray for them, smile at them, and yes, sometimes give them money if I have it to spare.
The thing that bothers me about so many Republicans these days on the topic of charity is that they just don't seem to believe all societies have always and may always harbor citizens who truly cannot take care of themselves. I know there are people, some I know personally, whose full-time "job" seems to be not having a job and figuring out ways to take advantage of friends, family and "the system." But we can't turn our backs on everyone in need because some of them might be conning us. I believe that in every society the fortunate should help the less-fortunate. And if the fortunate are smart, a large part of that help should come in the form of handing the less-fortunate the best opportunity for education, unless the fortunate are planning to go out themselves and fix our infrastructure. And one does not need to be highly educated in order to work at jobs societies cannot operate without, but those jobs should pay a living wage. When I was growing up in the 50's the garbage collectors, as we called them, owned homes, cars and could support more than 1.5 children.
Those are some of the reasons I'm liberal, but the reason I said I'm still a Democrat is that I'm no longer blindly loyal to the party. Corporate greed has infiltrated both parties. It would be incredibly time-consuming to examine every last politician and his voting record, so I remain a Democratic voter as I consider the Dems the lesser of the two evils. I admire many past and present Democrats, but some these days are bought and paid for by corporate interests as surely as many Republicans. But if Eisenhower were alive and the country could run the way it was run during his administration, I'd probably vote for a Republican for the first time in my life. I was raised in a Democratic environment. My family had its share of Republicans, but usually their logic for switching parties was flawed. For instance, I had an uncle who hated JFK because it was said JFK's father was a crook. And there was no arguing with my uncle. Apparently he believed the sins of the father should be visited on the son, forget all the good changes brought about by Kennedy and Johnson.
My friend Doug on facebook posted the following from an anonymous contributor and it pretty much sums up, in a sarcastic way, the reasons I'm still a Democrat these days:
Fifteen Reasons Why I Vote for Republicans
-by a Proud Republican
1. I voted Republican because you can blame problems on poor people instead of the rich ones who actually run things.
2. I voted Republican because firefighters and teachers are
scum-sucking leaches, but the oil companies raking in record profits NEED those hundreds of millions in taxpayer subsidies.
3. I voted Republican because I believe companies like my cable TV provider, insurance company and credit card company could do a better job running the country than the government, no matter how much they screw me over.
4. I voted Republican because I don’t trust the government, although I favored the government spying on my health/financial records and tapping my phone when Bush was in office to keep us safe from "terrists."
5. I voted Republican because I don't really care whether terrorists, murderers and drug dealers own guns or not.
6. I voted Republican because I believe climate change doesn't
exist; if I can't see it with my own two eyes, it doesn't exist--like
gravity.
7. I voted Republican because I hate women having abortions, but
once the baby is born and dies from a preventable illness, that's okay.
8. I voted Republican because I believe in laying off workers to
boost profits; then I get to complain about lazy unemployed people.
9. I voted Republican because I understand capitalism. Demand
doesn’t increase jobs…ensuring corporations pay no taxes and cutting healthcare and education does.
10. I voted Republican because I care about the deficit and support cutting services that I really need. But extra tax cuts for the super rich who actually caused the deficit should be extended indefinitely.
11. I voted Republican because I believe in never having to solve
any problems in the government and I insist government is the problem anyway.
12. I voted Republican because I hate activist judges, unless they
are conservative (Yes, corporations should get to spend unlimited money in elections).
13. I voted Republican because spite and fear is better than hope and change.
14. I voted Republican because I agree that life begins at the moment of conception and ends at birth, and that women are incapable of making their own reproductive choices.
15. I voted Republican because B. Hussein Obama is a secret Kenyan born Muslim- negro-far-left-wing-extremist-liberal-socialist with a dark evil secret agenda to destroy America, take my guns, ammunition and freedom, and turn them all over to Islamic extremists and homosexuals who will rob, rape and murder me, my wife, my girlfriends, and my children, and force the abortion of my unborn children.
-a Proud Republican
You know the thing I hate most about many politicians? They so willingly tell lies in order to be elected. It's too bad our government has to become this corrupt before all the people begin to take notice.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
As I Was About to Say . . .
For quite a while I've been wanting to write about the brand of theology spewing forth from some of our politicians, then I read:
http://crooksandliars.com/mike-lux/what-bible-santorum-reading
Mike Lux says it best and I really recommend it to anyone who, like me, has been saying, "What bible are they reading?"
http://crooksandliars.com/mike-lux/what-bible-santorum-reading
Mike Lux says it best and I really recommend it to anyone who, like me, has been saying, "What bible are they reading?"
Thursday, February 16, 2012
The Travails of Karma
Yesterday my sweet little girl-dog, Ruby jumped on my back and knocked me flat onto my kitchen floor. I screamed. I wasn't sure why I screamed; it was spontaneous and instantaneous. When I later analyzed the scream (I've been taught by years of psychotherapy to analyze or die) I recognized many emotions which hit me in rapid succession: fear, anger, surprise, confusion and pain, pretty much in that order. And the really ironic part is that I was walking into the kitchen to get some ibuprofen for the knee I twisted a couple weeks ago. I'll explain my analysis, but first, I have to tell you a little about Ruby, my furniture and my so-called housekeeping.
Ruby is the medium-sized, female plott hound I acquired this past summer. She was listed on facebook as a dog destined for doggy heaven due to over-crowding in the pound about 50 miles from my home. It was a very hot day when I picked her up and this particular pound is hard to find, so I wasn't in the greatest mood by the time I got there. My mood didn't improve when she threw-up all over my car. But I got her home, only to discover almost immediately she knew nothing about doing her do-dahs outdoors. It didn't take long before our wonderful Billings, who's NEVER had an accident in the house, taught her the way these things are done.
Ruby is a dog of extremes; extremely loving, extremely excitable, and extremely horrified by even so much as a disapproving glance in her direction. I have no way of knowing from whence she wandered when the dog pound people found her lying in the middle of a dirt road, but I can easily imagine some idiot acquiring her because she was an adorable puppy and turning her out when it was decided she wasn't a perfect pet. These people should be allowed to own nothing more than stuffed animals, and even that much leniency is questionable. So I got her home and Ron and I soon discovered we'll never be able to yell at each other again because Ruby thinks all anger is directed at her. She runs and hides even if we're angry and not yelling. Being a hound, I guess her senses are heightened and she knows if you're mad even if you're saying nothing! Great, right? Then when you go find her she buries her little muzzle in your armpit and eventually looks up at you with those sad little hound dog eyes. She's soooo adorable and we put up with her chewing up everything she can get her teeth into, including some of our furnishings.
My furniture is . . . old. My furniture is . . . mostly second-hand. My furniture is . . . never going to fall into the antique category, and if my daughter inherits my belongings, almost everything will end up in a landfill. My dining room table and chairs were purchased from my friend Ellen when she was moving into yet another swell place and buying more swell furniture. I love my dining room table and chairs; I don't care how old they are. The table is like a big butcher block and all the trim on the chairs is painted white. However, thanks to planned obsolescence, and unbeknownst to me, the screws that hold the legs to the chairs have been periodically falling out. My husband has been collecting them like Easter eggs when he finds them, but not putting them back into the chairs. Instead he hoards them with all his other useless screws, nails, bits of metal, shreds of paper, kleenex, and dust bunnies. That's an exaggeration, but sometime I'll write a long story about Ron and you'll be amazed.
Which brings me to housekeeping. I grew up being a fair-to-middling housekeeper. I don't like filth, but I'll put up with a certain amount of dirt. I don't like excessive clutter, but I'll put up with a certain amount of chaos. And there have been times when I'd go nuts and have to have everything immaculate and tidy. Then I met Ron. Some women would be thrilled to have a husband like Ron; he's . . . quite amorous, doesn't care if I have a job, cooks his own food unless I cook (which is seldom), and couldn't care less what the house looks like. Here's the downside: I feel guilty because for years now I haven't been amorous, I need to work because he doesn't make enough money to suit me, when he cooks he usually creates a mess and walks away from it, and his mess combined with my inability to keep up with it makes life quite hellish at times. Thank gods for prozac.
So here's how it came to be that sweet Ruby leaped onto my back and shoved me to the floor: About a month ago Ron moved one of the dining room chairs to a bizarre location in the dining room and began decorating the chair with odds and ends of junk. He'd placed his bagged laptop on the seat of the chair and little by little had been tossing mail and class papers on top of that. To add to the decor I'd hung two of his shirts on the back of the chair knowing that some year I'd iron them. This chair was very near the table, but facing away from the table. The chair was also one of the chairs that had been shedding its screws. When I got up from the table to go into the kitchen to get ibuprofen Ruby got up from the living room couch and began to shadow me as usual. Ruby was right next to the chair when the legs decided they'd had enough and collapsed under the weight of the accessories. Ruby freaked and flew feet-first onto my back causing me to go face-down onto the kitchen floor. It took me a little while to figure out what had happened, but I'm sure it happened that way. I only wish I'd caught it on video so I could have put it on youtube.
Now, what is the karmic logic of all this, I ask you? Actually I asked God. I often ask God to explain to me the logic of what's happening, but he remains silent. My God likes me to figure stuff out; He doesn't hand me the answers, but he's a pretty fair grader so I try to cut him some slack. I concluded after picking myself up off the floor, calming Ruby, and convincing myself that getting drunk would not fix anything, that God possibly realigned my spine. I honestly wasn't in as much pain when I got up as I was before I fell. It was the weirdest damn thing. Don't get me wrong; I still need ibuprofen and hopefully I'm about to find out I need hypothyroid meds, but I felt different when I got up. Maybe it is A Wonderful Life, or maybe I just needed a good scream.
Ruby is the medium-sized, female plott hound I acquired this past summer. She was listed on facebook as a dog destined for doggy heaven due to over-crowding in the pound about 50 miles from my home. It was a very hot day when I picked her up and this particular pound is hard to find, so I wasn't in the greatest mood by the time I got there. My mood didn't improve when she threw-up all over my car. But I got her home, only to discover almost immediately she knew nothing about doing her do-dahs outdoors. It didn't take long before our wonderful Billings, who's NEVER had an accident in the house, taught her the way these things are done.
Ruby is a dog of extremes; extremely loving, extremely excitable, and extremely horrified by even so much as a disapproving glance in her direction. I have no way of knowing from whence she wandered when the dog pound people found her lying in the middle of a dirt road, but I can easily imagine some idiot acquiring her because she was an adorable puppy and turning her out when it was decided she wasn't a perfect pet. These people should be allowed to own nothing more than stuffed animals, and even that much leniency is questionable. So I got her home and Ron and I soon discovered we'll never be able to yell at each other again because Ruby thinks all anger is directed at her. She runs and hides even if we're angry and not yelling. Being a hound, I guess her senses are heightened and she knows if you're mad even if you're saying nothing! Great, right? Then when you go find her she buries her little muzzle in your armpit and eventually looks up at you with those sad little hound dog eyes. She's soooo adorable and we put up with her chewing up everything she can get her teeth into, including some of our furnishings.
My furniture is . . . old. My furniture is . . . mostly second-hand. My furniture is . . . never going to fall into the antique category, and if my daughter inherits my belongings, almost everything will end up in a landfill. My dining room table and chairs were purchased from my friend Ellen when she was moving into yet another swell place and buying more swell furniture. I love my dining room table and chairs; I don't care how old they are. The table is like a big butcher block and all the trim on the chairs is painted white. However, thanks to planned obsolescence, and unbeknownst to me, the screws that hold the legs to the chairs have been periodically falling out. My husband has been collecting them like Easter eggs when he finds them, but not putting them back into the chairs. Instead he hoards them with all his other useless screws, nails, bits of metal, shreds of paper, kleenex, and dust bunnies. That's an exaggeration, but sometime I'll write a long story about Ron and you'll be amazed.
Which brings me to housekeeping. I grew up being a fair-to-middling housekeeper. I don't like filth, but I'll put up with a certain amount of dirt. I don't like excessive clutter, but I'll put up with a certain amount of chaos. And there have been times when I'd go nuts and have to have everything immaculate and tidy. Then I met Ron. Some women would be thrilled to have a husband like Ron; he's . . . quite amorous, doesn't care if I have a job, cooks his own food unless I cook (which is seldom), and couldn't care less what the house looks like. Here's the downside: I feel guilty because for years now I haven't been amorous, I need to work because he doesn't make enough money to suit me, when he cooks he usually creates a mess and walks away from it, and his mess combined with my inability to keep up with it makes life quite hellish at times. Thank gods for prozac.
So here's how it came to be that sweet Ruby leaped onto my back and shoved me to the floor: About a month ago Ron moved one of the dining room chairs to a bizarre location in the dining room and began decorating the chair with odds and ends of junk. He'd placed his bagged laptop on the seat of the chair and little by little had been tossing mail and class papers on top of that. To add to the decor I'd hung two of his shirts on the back of the chair knowing that some year I'd iron them. This chair was very near the table, but facing away from the table. The chair was also one of the chairs that had been shedding its screws. When I got up from the table to go into the kitchen to get ibuprofen Ruby got up from the living room couch and began to shadow me as usual. Ruby was right next to the chair when the legs decided they'd had enough and collapsed under the weight of the accessories. Ruby freaked and flew feet-first onto my back causing me to go face-down onto the kitchen floor. It took me a little while to figure out what had happened, but I'm sure it happened that way. I only wish I'd caught it on video so I could have put it on youtube.
Now, what is the karmic logic of all this, I ask you? Actually I asked God. I often ask God to explain to me the logic of what's happening, but he remains silent. My God likes me to figure stuff out; He doesn't hand me the answers, but he's a pretty fair grader so I try to cut him some slack. I concluded after picking myself up off the floor, calming Ruby, and convincing myself that getting drunk would not fix anything, that God possibly realigned my spine. I honestly wasn't in as much pain when I got up as I was before I fell. It was the weirdest damn thing. Don't get me wrong; I still need ibuprofen and hopefully I'm about to find out I need hypothyroid meds, but I felt different when I got up. Maybe it is A Wonderful Life, or maybe I just needed a good scream.
Monday, January 30, 2012
My Funny Valentine
For years I've been trying to get my husband to write a book on politics. He's probably the funniest person I know on many topics, but especially government. Ron's a master of sophisticated and unsophisticated "humour" (Ron's a Canadian at heart). Alas, he only writes really boring, statistical stuff, usually having to do with the condition of waters that might hold brook trout. Sometimes he writes incredibly difficult-to-understand . . . thesii? but my favorite topic lately is politics.
I'm going to share with you part of one of his emails written to some equally cynical friends, but I warn you: While Ron is a lifelong Democrat, he has been sorely disappointed in the President. I usually defend Obama until he does something, or doesn't do something, that irritates me and then I side with Ron, but I usually add, "You know Ron, politicians, especially the president know lots of crap we'll never hear. So I'm thinking Obama still has something up his sleeve besides his arm." Ron usually rolls his eyes, or says something sarcastic using his Buddy Hackett voice.
Dr. Runeric says:
I'm going to share with you part of one of his emails written to some equally cynical friends, but I warn you: While Ron is a lifelong Democrat, he has been sorely disappointed in the President. I usually defend Obama until he does something, or doesn't do something, that irritates me and then I side with Ron, but I usually add, "You know Ron, politicians, especially the president know lots of crap we'll never hear. So I'm thinking Obama still has something up his sleeve besides his arm." Ron usually rolls his eyes, or says something sarcastic using his Buddy Hackett voice.
Dr. Runeric says:
Speaking of politics, the Florida primary will occur soon according to all the commentators. I don't know whether or not that will be fun. For me, the element that is fun is that Loot Gingrich hates Will Robme. Since Loot is so vicious and unprincipled, Will Robme might be utterly destroyed before he gets to face Obama. That's very useful since Obama is too snivelling and chicken-hearted to talk back to, much less destroy, Will Robme, no matter how easy that might be. Obama's worm-like performance over the last three years, especially regarding the public option, shows that he is simple for republican creeps to roll-over. He is such a sitting duck that it takes a miracle for the republicans to lose to him in anything. Opposing him is close to literally taking candy from a baby, yet it looks to me like Obama will win the championship this year -- only because the republicans are so aggressive that they prey on any target of opportunity, including their own.
Here is my prediction for a debate with Obama against Robme (Imagine how much more extreme the following would become if Gingrich were the republican champion):
If you're not an Ohioan, Jochim Kasich, Gauleiter of OH, is Governor Kasich. And, yes, I'll admit it; we generally refer to Republicans as the nazi party. So it was so odd to us when some of the conservatives tagged the liberals as nazi. They generally take a term and demonize it. I remember when they redefined the word "liberal" to mean a person who slaughters, rapes and pilages his way through life. Right.Obama:"We want to reach across the aisle to the folks with different views and compromise. A public option is not necessary."Republicans (all candidates at once) -- Instantly, as if rehearsed, which it, in fact, will be:All turn and spit on the President and say, "Socialist nazi has established death panels for all honest, hard-working Americans, who will then have to become dependent on the US government, which he will then turn over to the Mau Mau tribe of Kenya, then give all your money to the laziest [fill in the blank as to which group name should appear here] and take away all guns from citizens and give them to Islamic terrorists."Obama strikes back by saying:"This is just divisive rhetoric. We want to compromise with our friends across the aisle. Okay, I'll give you something first. I won't help the employees who are trying to stand up to OH, MI, IN, WI, and FL gauleiters. I'll increase the Social Security retirment age and reduce benefits and increase the Medicare co-payment. I think the Paul Ryan budget plan has a few areas where we both agree. Now what will you give me?"
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Gingrich's food stamp obsession
I'm going to be brief because I really wanted to blog about my husband's political sense of humor, e.g., Mitt Romney is Might Robme and if elected becomes Will Robme.
If I hear one more word from Newt about Obama being the "food stamp president" I may have to find one of Newt's mansions and begin an occupation. (I'd also want to ask Callista where she buys her hair helmets. Sorry. I guess if I were married to Newt my hair would become rigidly cemented in place too.)
About five years ago when my life took a u-turn I found myself out of work. At first it wasn't too bad because I'd foolishly cashed out my retirement fund thinking I could buy it back in a flash when I secured another state job----ha ha ha, what a joke. Eventually I found myself in need of . . . EVERYTHING, including food. Thank God, I have family and friends who are extremely generous and understanding. But in the process of trying NOT to be totally dependent on people who cared more about my life than I did at the time, not only did I apply for utility assistance and sell my plasma, but I applied for food stamps. Now, I was told by my (wonderful) case worker that Bush changed the requirement guidelines so that no one had to show his bank statements. I tried to verify that information online, but was unsuccessful. However, I can say, I was not required to turn over bank statements (not that I had anything in the bank). My case worker said Bush wanted to see to it that anyone, of any class could be eligible for the program without having to use up his last asset, to which I say, "Thank'ee sai." (see: Dark Tower)
I quickly received a rather large chunk of change in the form of a food stamp card with which to fill my pantry. Thereafter I was allotted around $100 a week until I, ironically, was hired as a cashier at a grocery store.
The store where I worked was in an interesting location. The richest and poorest in that end of town shopped there. I wish I'd kept better notes for my sociological study, but I was usually too depressed to think about much other than collecting my meager wages and praying my car didn't break down.
I did keep some mental notes about the store's customer base, however. To the best of my recollection the food card users came in all ages, races, male and female. It seemed to me the majority of WIC customers were of the Caucasian variety. WIC is a government program allowing low-income parents to obtain specific food items, mostly from the food pyramid and no junk food. This was especially helpful for new mothers as formula costs are astronomical.
Believe me, none of these customers (especially the WIC recipients) were happy to be using government assistance. For the most part, they seemed embarrassed. Some were angry in anticipation of the cashier's exasperation over having to deal with WIC coupons, a rather complicated transaction.
So here's what I have to say to Newt: No, I'd better not say that. Okay, Newt, get some real data. And voters who applaud Newts' comments about food stamps or any government assistance program are either uneducated, uninformed, hateful or down-right stupid. Instead of cheering for Newt they should be thanking the God or gods to whom they pray that they are not in the position to be needing government assistance. They should also be thankful assistance is there should they need it. No one on this planet is immune from catastrophic events--all types of catastrophic events. Oh, if only God would plunge Newt into the life of someone in need, even for an hour, maybe he wouldn't remain so relentlessly and obnoxiously pious. Oh, for the ghosts of Christmas' past, present and future to visit all politicians who haven't a clue about real suffering and desperate need.
Okay, not so brief.
If I hear one more word from Newt about Obama being the "food stamp president" I may have to find one of Newt's mansions and begin an occupation. (I'd also want to ask Callista where she buys her hair helmets. Sorry. I guess if I were married to Newt my hair would become rigidly cemented in place too.)
About five years ago when my life took a u-turn I found myself out of work. At first it wasn't too bad because I'd foolishly cashed out my retirement fund thinking I could buy it back in a flash when I secured another state job----ha ha ha, what a joke. Eventually I found myself in need of . . . EVERYTHING, including food. Thank God, I have family and friends who are extremely generous and understanding. But in the process of trying NOT to be totally dependent on people who cared more about my life than I did at the time, not only did I apply for utility assistance and sell my plasma, but I applied for food stamps. Now, I was told by my (wonderful) case worker that Bush changed the requirement guidelines so that no one had to show his bank statements. I tried to verify that information online, but was unsuccessful. However, I can say, I was not required to turn over bank statements (not that I had anything in the bank). My case worker said Bush wanted to see to it that anyone, of any class could be eligible for the program without having to use up his last asset, to which I say, "Thank'ee sai." (see: Dark Tower)
I quickly received a rather large chunk of change in the form of a food stamp card with which to fill my pantry. Thereafter I was allotted around $100 a week until I, ironically, was hired as a cashier at a grocery store.
The store where I worked was in an interesting location. The richest and poorest in that end of town shopped there. I wish I'd kept better notes for my sociological study, but I was usually too depressed to think about much other than collecting my meager wages and praying my car didn't break down.
I did keep some mental notes about the store's customer base, however. To the best of my recollection the food card users came in all ages, races, male and female. It seemed to me the majority of WIC customers were of the Caucasian variety. WIC is a government program allowing low-income parents to obtain specific food items, mostly from the food pyramid and no junk food. This was especially helpful for new mothers as formula costs are astronomical.
Believe me, none of these customers (especially the WIC recipients) were happy to be using government assistance. For the most part, they seemed embarrassed. Some were angry in anticipation of the cashier's exasperation over having to deal with WIC coupons, a rather complicated transaction.
So here's what I have to say to Newt: No, I'd better not say that. Okay, Newt, get some real data. And voters who applaud Newts' comments about food stamps or any government assistance program are either uneducated, uninformed, hateful or down-right stupid. Instead of cheering for Newt they should be thanking the God or gods to whom they pray that they are not in the position to be needing government assistance. They should also be thankful assistance is there should they need it. No one on this planet is immune from catastrophic events--all types of catastrophic events. Oh, if only God would plunge Newt into the life of someone in need, even for an hour, maybe he wouldn't remain so relentlessly and obnoxiously pious. Oh, for the ghosts of Christmas' past, present and future to visit all politicians who haven't a clue about real suffering and desperate need.
Okay, not so brief.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
My Friend, Beth
My friend Beth died two days after I wrote my last blog. She went to work last Tuesday morning and complained of a headache. Shortly thereafter her boss was calling paramedics because she seemed to have fainted and couldn't be revived. By evening she'd been flown to Cleveland University Hospital in hope that their medical technology could save her from the aneurysm, but they couldn't.
I'd only known Beth for a little over two years. I met her when I plunged back into the AA life. That's a lie; I was dragged kicking and screaming back into the AA life and one of the last things I told Beth (she being my sponsor) was that I couldn't lie to her. Beth was a regular at a meeting I attended on the west side of Akron. Most AA's belong to what's called a "home group." That's the meeting at which a member is most active; we make the meeting comfortable for anyone who needs or wants to be there and do our best to attend every week. Beth and I were both "home group members" at St. Anthonys' Women's Group and I ultimately asked her to be my sponsor. That's another AA necessity. (For more details Google Alcoholics Anonymous.)
Beth and I talked to each other weekly, usually on Saturdays at the meeting and now I wish we'd spent more time together, but I think I know why we didn't. At least on my part I was afraid to get as close as I could have been.
When I met my best friend, Carol, we were 18 or 19 years old. That was over 40 years ago. At that age life seems neverending, sometimes for good reasons, sometimes for bad. Forming life-long friendships during your neverending years makes sense--they'll be with you forever. As I got older I began to shy away from adding BFF's. I have a few, but none as "forever" as Carol. As time went on I lost people close to me, beginning with my Dad. That was devastating, but not as devastating as losing my brother, then my mother, my sister, aunts, cousins and other friends. So I think that somewhere along the line I decided if I emotionally held people I really liked at a distance my heart wouldn't break when they died.
I was wrong. For all my keeping Beth at a "safe distance," my heart shattered like thin glass when her wonderful husband Jeff told me Beth "wouldn't be coming back." And now I wish I'd done more with her, gone shopping, gone fishing, gone to lunch, because ultimately it doesn't matter how much I try to shield myself against the heartache of loss; if you love someone and lose them you need to have fun memories of them. I think. Maybe. Oh, who am I kidding; my glass heart wouldn't have been any thicker had I gone out with Beth instead of just seeing her at work and meetings.
Within about 48 hours of her death I felt Beth had made it to a better place. I have the feeling she was confused for a while about where she was because she left so suddenly, but that when she understood she became filled with spiritual bliss and light. Her memorial service was packed with people who loved her and were still in disbelief that we'd never see her again in this life. It seems so impossible to believe that I was sitting with her at our home group meeting on New Year's Eve, but that I'll never again see her smile--in this life, anyway.
Beth was beautiful, loving and sweet and I will miss her. I'll always have plenty of good memories even though we never went fishing together.
I'd only known Beth for a little over two years. I met her when I plunged back into the AA life. That's a lie; I was dragged kicking and screaming back into the AA life and one of the last things I told Beth (she being my sponsor) was that I couldn't lie to her. Beth was a regular at a meeting I attended on the west side of Akron. Most AA's belong to what's called a "home group." That's the meeting at which a member is most active; we make the meeting comfortable for anyone who needs or wants to be there and do our best to attend every week. Beth and I were both "home group members" at St. Anthonys' Women's Group and I ultimately asked her to be my sponsor. That's another AA necessity. (For more details Google Alcoholics Anonymous.)
Beth and I talked to each other weekly, usually on Saturdays at the meeting and now I wish we'd spent more time together, but I think I know why we didn't. At least on my part I was afraid to get as close as I could have been.
When I met my best friend, Carol, we were 18 or 19 years old. That was over 40 years ago. At that age life seems neverending, sometimes for good reasons, sometimes for bad. Forming life-long friendships during your neverending years makes sense--they'll be with you forever. As I got older I began to shy away from adding BFF's. I have a few, but none as "forever" as Carol. As time went on I lost people close to me, beginning with my Dad. That was devastating, but not as devastating as losing my brother, then my mother, my sister, aunts, cousins and other friends. So I think that somewhere along the line I decided if I emotionally held people I really liked at a distance my heart wouldn't break when they died.
I was wrong. For all my keeping Beth at a "safe distance," my heart shattered like thin glass when her wonderful husband Jeff told me Beth "wouldn't be coming back." And now I wish I'd done more with her, gone shopping, gone fishing, gone to lunch, because ultimately it doesn't matter how much I try to shield myself against the heartache of loss; if you love someone and lose them you need to have fun memories of them. I think. Maybe. Oh, who am I kidding; my glass heart wouldn't have been any thicker had I gone out with Beth instead of just seeing her at work and meetings.
Within about 48 hours of her death I felt Beth had made it to a better place. I have the feeling she was confused for a while about where she was because she left so suddenly, but that when she understood she became filled with spiritual bliss and light. Her memorial service was packed with people who loved her and were still in disbelief that we'd never see her again in this life. It seems so impossible to believe that I was sitting with her at our home group meeting on New Year's Eve, but that I'll never again see her smile--in this life, anyway.
Beth was beautiful, loving and sweet and I will miss her. I'll always have plenty of good memories even though we never went fishing together.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Waiting For Good Snow
Funny. I really am waiting for snow, but the title then turned into Waiting For Good Snow, which brought my thoughts 'round to Waiting for Godot. I've been familiar with the title for years, but never read it . . . or saw the play. Thanks to the wonders of Googleocity I was able to find everything one would ever want to know about Waiting for Godot. Wonder of wonders, the analysis plays right into my blog:
AslanDec 30, 2011 6:30 AM http://www.gradesaver.com/waiting-for-godot/q-and-a/who-is-godot-what-does-he-stand-for-58251/
(Gradesaver looks like a worthwhile site, in case any students read this blog.)
" . . . Mr. Beckett sees very little reason for clutching at faith, but is unable to relinquish it entirely." That was the comment that caught me.
I've been feeling two shades off lately. I've been plagued by dreams filled with dishonesty and chaos and I also, quite often, see very little reason for clutching at faith. I know; someone endowed with such sparkling wit as I and who has at times expressed a desire to become a nun is plagued by disturbing dreams? Sad, but true.
But I think I've had an epiphany. If you know me you're thinking, "Oh God, another damn epiphany." This is a good one; I promise. My epiphany will sound like, "Duh!" to some, but I recognized it finally, which is important. You know; we have to see and accept our shortcomings on our own? If someone says to us, "You really ought to quit over-eating." or, "You know, you're a sloppy, ridiculous drunk." we say, "Yeah? Well screw you, pal!" But when we finally recognize those problems on our own we pat ourselves on the back for being so observant and honest with ourselves and sometimes actually go back to "pal" and apologize.
So here's my epiphany: I must get into the habit of meditating and speaking with my Higher Power daily. (sorry antitheist friends) I can't just occasionally close my eyes and say, "Hey God, how ya doin'? You know what's in my mind, so I don't really have to tell you, right? Okay, talk to ya later." My friend, Marilyn K., is now a ward councilperson and she credits her success to asking God everyday to direct her steps. It's a little more complicated than that, but that's the crux.
I don't want to see this as a resolution because resolutions are usually things we don't really want to do or to give up. I want to see this as a pleasant, helpful part of life. I think Godot would agree.
I'm still waiting for good snow, but the forcast is quite promising and we've already gotten some--snow. (sorry snow-haters) Happy New Year!
P.S. NASA says the world will not end on 12/21/2012. Only your Higher Power knows the hour.
There are many interpretations (of the title) for this. Here is one,
Since "Waiting for Godot" is an allegory written in a heartless modern tone, a theatre-goer naturally rummages through the performance in search of a meaning. It seems fairly certain that Godot stands for God. Those who are loitering by the withered tree are waiting for salvation, which never comes.
The rest of the symbolism is more elusive. But it is not a pose. For Mr. Beckett's drama adumbrates--rather than expresses--an attitude toward man's experience on earth; the pathos, cruelty, comradeship, hope, corruption, filthiness and wonder of human existence. Faith in God has almost vanished. But there is still an illusion of faith flickering around the edges of the drama. It is as though Mr. Beckett sees very little reason for clutching at faith, but is unable to relinquish it entirely. Source(s): http://www.nytimes.com/books/97/08/03/reviews/beckett-godot.html
Since "Waiting for Godot" is an allegory written in a heartless modern tone, a theatre-goer naturally rummages through the performance in search of a meaning. It seems fairly certain that Godot stands for God. Those who are loitering by the withered tree are waiting for salvation, which never comes.
The rest of the symbolism is more elusive. But it is not a pose. For Mr. Beckett's drama adumbrates--rather than expresses--an attitude toward man's experience on earth; the pathos, cruelty, comradeship, hope, corruption, filthiness and wonder of human existence. Faith in God has almost vanished. But there is still an illusion of faith flickering around the edges of the drama. It is as though Mr. Beckett sees very little reason for clutching at faith, but is unable to relinquish it entirely. Source(s): http://www.nytimes.com/books/97/08/03/reviews/beckett-godot.html
AslanDec 30, 2011 6:30 AM http://www.gradesaver.com/waiting-for-godot/q-and-a/who-is-godot-what-does-he-stand-for-58251/
(Gradesaver looks like a worthwhile site, in case any students read this blog.)
" . . . Mr. Beckett sees very little reason for clutching at faith, but is unable to relinquish it entirely." That was the comment that caught me.
I've been feeling two shades off lately. I've been plagued by dreams filled with dishonesty and chaos and I also, quite often, see very little reason for clutching at faith. I know; someone endowed with such sparkling wit as I and who has at times expressed a desire to become a nun is plagued by disturbing dreams? Sad, but true.
But I think I've had an epiphany. If you know me you're thinking, "Oh God, another damn epiphany." This is a good one; I promise. My epiphany will sound like, "Duh!" to some, but I recognized it finally, which is important. You know; we have to see and accept our shortcomings on our own? If someone says to us, "You really ought to quit over-eating." or, "You know, you're a sloppy, ridiculous drunk." we say, "Yeah? Well screw you, pal!" But when we finally recognize those problems on our own we pat ourselves on the back for being so observant and honest with ourselves and sometimes actually go back to "pal" and apologize.
So here's my epiphany: I must get into the habit of meditating and speaking with my Higher Power daily. (sorry antitheist friends) I can't just occasionally close my eyes and say, "Hey God, how ya doin'? You know what's in my mind, so I don't really have to tell you, right? Okay, talk to ya later." My friend, Marilyn K., is now a ward councilperson and she credits her success to asking God everyday to direct her steps. It's a little more complicated than that, but that's the crux.
I don't want to see this as a resolution because resolutions are usually things we don't really want to do or to give up. I want to see this as a pleasant, helpful part of life. I think Godot would agree.
I'm still waiting for good snow, but the forcast is quite promising and we've already gotten some--snow. (sorry snow-haters) Happy New Year!
P.S. NASA says the world will not end on 12/21/2012. Only your Higher Power knows the hour.
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