Holy Cow

Let's shoot the shit for a while. I have done some deep thinking since 3 o'clock this morn, and would like to share a realization with you.

It may make sense and it may not, as the case may be. But I call 'em as I see 'em, so here goes.

 I am going to have to start making an attempt to look and live 'outside the box.' In the past, when anyone used that phrase, I acted as if I knew what that person was talking about, but, in reality, I had no idea what that meant. That's due to the fact that I was living 'in the box' and one can't see 'outside' when one is living in it...and so on and so forth. *Breathe*

Now, to me it means that I live in a culture, our society, which has placed dictates on the way I think, feel and act. This is true for everyone on the planet human. It's a survival of the herd mentality that supersedes Darwin's 'survival of the fittest.' The herd, for almost every creature on Earth, IS survival. 'The fittest' hasn't yet been born. There exists only the herd.

I have been trying to live my life by these dictates, and some of them aren't working for me. Such as the 'masculine' rule that our lives are based on a Western premise of thought: that is, the old Logic game, or,  If not this, then that. Do you remember learning scientific ways of thought in elementary school? If something is not this, then something is that?

Without intending to be denigrating in any way to "that way" of thinking, I have decided from henceforth not to live or more importantly to judge myself by "that way" of thought. I am going to search for what to us is neither male nor female, but "the other thing."

And I can see the paradox here, believe me: I am still thinking, "If not this (masculine, western way), then that (feminine way.) I won't describe it as Eastern, because Western school of thought is not diametrically opposite of the Eastern school of thought. That I can see, there is no opposite of the Western or Eastern ways of thought, because all ways of thought expound the virtue and assume what we consider the obvious: that the masculine-way-of-domination-of-the-feminine-way is "the way of the world." And it is. You should really get a scoop of ice cream, or some marshmallow vodka for that one. Whichever choice works for you. 

So, I will have to take a sideways step. I just haven't figured that out yet, because I have only just started thinking outside of the box, and am not, as a consequence, very good at it yet.

Now that I have really confused you and myself, I will have to eat a banana, and I will reflect on all the hominids who have consumed a banana since the beginning of recorded history, and quite a bit beyond that, in fact. Because some things do transcend gender, such as food and the intake of oxygen, and nifty things like the intake of water, and the cover of shelter...everything else is an option.

I Dream of Jeannie

I have my sassy pants on today, and so I have been reading BBC news. The second top story on the "U.S./Canada news?" Larry Hagman's death. Right on up there with a call by the U.K. on the U.S. to stop the violence in Israel/Palestine.

I never watched "Dallas." I gave up soaps after my first stint at University. Hanging together in the T.V. room, watching soaps was such a group thing, and one of the only group things I have done in my life. Nevertheless, I loved Larry Hagman on "I Dream of Jeannie." Who didn't? It was a show featuring the world's hottest profession at the time, an astronaut; and a magical genie. Handsome couple, good supporting staff, and then there was the bottle.

Jeannie's home was the first shot at luxury that I had ever seen in my young life. Silk pillows and couches in exotic colors, and so cute and small. I bet every little girl who watched the series vowed, like me, to have the exact same arrangement for a bedroom or living room when she grew up. And those clothes! Who wouldn't like to drift around in pink and purple silk veils, and have hair like that?

It wasn't until I hit Jeannie's apparent age that I realized I wasn't going to look like that, or even like Barbara Eden, either. Now that I am middle aged, I would still like a nap place I could carry around in my coat pocket. Think of the overhead it would save...

Sic Transit Gloria Mundi

"How quickly passes the Glory of the World!"

Is how I feel now that I know an "ex-romantic figure from my life" is dying. Of course, we are all dying, little by little, every day. And I deeply feel the poignancy of the title to this piece, as have many in the past, present, and future will feel and have felt. The uncertainty of life is all around us, everyday, and the world rushes by as a nurse rushes to her charge, struggling in his bed.

Or, in a similar view of the "Sic transit" quote, Shakespeare's "All the world's a stage, and men and women merely players." 

But the loveliest is this:

Spring and Fall, to a young child           Gerard Manley Hopkins


Margaret, are you grieving
Over Goldengrove unleaving?
Leaves, like the things of man, you
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
Ah! as the heart grows older
It will come to such sights colder
By and by, nor spare a sigh
Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
And yet you wíll weep and know why.
Now no matter, child, the name:
Sorrow's springs are the same.
Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
What héart héard of, ghóst guéssed:
It is the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for.


It is a good thing that a birth, and the promise of the sun in the darkness is the 'reason for the season' coming up, or I might be held in this sadness all winter. I feel the grief for the passing of the year, and life, but have no where to turn my face except to the promise of renewal, and of spring time.

So today, I paint and decorate in the old colors of red and green, blood, fire and leaves, that our ancestors thought appropriate for their Winter celebrations. The Earth and it's death and renewal are the oldest things known to Humans. And the earth's song is reflected in our Winter lights, flashes of color, giving and receiving of cheer, and the pale blue of Hope, most of all.

And for those of you who miss the "Sassy Pants" me, do not doubt that I will see you tomorrow.

Ashes

Ok. So we're over the feast and shopping to lose the extra pounds we put on. Stores are now opening on Thanksgiving Morning, to get a leg up on Black Friday Morning. Yeah, you heard me right. Now, retailers can't wait until Friday for people to shop...they have invented Black Thursday, formerly known as Thanksgiving.

Or you could be bold, like my sister, and go out and shop at midnight on Thursday/Friday. And you can tell at this point that I just can't drop it...but it simply boggles the mind that giant chain stores now say, "There is no holiday here that we can see. Let's add a day by commandeering the holiday." WTF?

 Despite my deprecating blog yesterday, it is saying something to take a day, despite retailers, and simply thank Your Share of the Universe for the food on the table, the roof over your head, the clothes on your back, and the human connections that we all must have. So many go without, and I suppose that was the motivation for the blog yesterday.

As for the unicorn meat eating cats at this house, they feed all the time, and I am grateful that none of them went hungry. I didn't buy them anything either.

The two boys have suddenly realized there is a female in their midst. While Max, the dog, discovered her the first day, the boys have been dense about her appearance. I suppose they thought I would shoot them a memo or notify them on their timeline if she was staying. But here she is, a grey calico, happily ensconced on top of the washing machine, grateful that she doesn't have to climb down to eat or drink.

And last Sunday, I talked to someone who had talked to someone who knew someone important in my past. Apparently, this important someone is not in good health, in fact it might be very bad indeed, I am not spectacularly sure, you can understand why. So this night I took out the photo albums with his picture in them, and tried to connect my thoughts with someone so long ago, and wish him well.

Regret and compassion live around his memory, this person from long ago, and I simply wish to talk to him, and ask him to forgive me, for what, I am not entirely sure...

Thanks

Thanksgiving: no other nation on earth celebrates this uniquely American invention. This is not to say the rest of the world isn't grateful for stuff. They are. It's just that America has invented a holiday that is not based on any ancient holidays, that I know of.

Christmas has roots in the Roman celebration of Saturnalia, and the Norse traditions. Same with Easter. We have invented a holiday that has no quirky ceremonies other than "gathering together" and eating the American bird, the turkey. One Arab friend, after seeing the feast spread at my house, glanced at the turkey and said, "Alise, that is not a bird, that is a SHEEP."

It's a nice thought on the whole, a day dedicated to gratitude. But I don't like the holiday for the legend behind it. Let's look. A bunch of extremely rigid, religious fanatics who sailed to a new land and were so suspicious of the natives that they told them to 'get lost' when the natives visited offering gifts. Pretty stupid considering the nasty food the Puritans brought themselves. After a hard winter eating dogs and mice, and dying like flies, the Puritans were thinking the corn and fresh fish the natives were offering them were starting to look good. So they gave in and ate.

We are 'Thankful' that our ancestors lived to reduce the natives to poverty-ridden reservations. On which the rate of alcoholism is the highest on the planet. We are so grateful that we celebrate their wisdom and heritage as our own, and do nothing for the appalling 4th World conditions in which they live.

Indeed, today is a National Day of Mourning for the native populations in the U.S. And, being an "American" tradition, it is an extremely non-humorous, non-laughing occasion centered around food, a national day of eating too much; trying to avoid relatives we hate, and drinking beer and watching football.

It's not that I am ungrateful. I simply think it should be a day of fasting, with all the money and food spent on it destined for some tiny villages in the American Southwest...or your local tribe. Now that, Ladies and Gentlemen, would show what we are really grateful for; and it's not the growing tradition of obesity here.

But "Suck it up, Sensei" comes to mind and I am having my fill of coffee this morning and thinking of eating lightly this day.  And may all your Christmases be white.

P.S. I am boycotting Walmart, as I do everyday, on Black Friday, protesting their appalling labor practices.

Bayberry

I woke at 4 am for the hell of it and I am regretting that decision as we speak. I have pulled out all five boxes of my Christmas crap, and I am condensing down to What I Really Like to See at Christmas. That includes the tacky snow ball thingy with the reindeer and the fir tree on the outside, and the ceramic tree that my grandmother made.

I have already pulled out the winter pajamas, and decided to change the apt. colors to red and white, with a deep green accompaniment. And it's the time of year to drink the spruce flavored coffee or whatever.  I loathe flavored coffees with a passion. It's my view that, if it smells like a candle, it should be lit and put in the corner, preferably somewhere near a wall that will reflect a glow. NOT drank with something else pumpkin flavored and equally sugary.

The only "good" sugar I can stand is a coffee cake, preferably with icing. Not that cream cheese stuff either, but the sour creamy, sticky bun stuff....it's just a thing.

Ratty tried to confront the new, now-unicorn-meat-eating cat, Georgia, yesterday. The sneaky boy had climbed on top of the dryer and was making his way over to her food, when I heard her hissing. It is such a delight to have a female in the clowder* again. And Max? He's snoring under the toile bedspread.

I hear Kate Middleton is preggers. Let the day unfold.



*clowder: group, or 'tribe' of cats.

The Death of Twinkies

And Bam.

Today, I wish I could write a funny blog everyday, but I just can't pull the witty, caustic remarks out of my arse every morning. I mean, there is a limit. Usually what drops out is stodgy concern, or random comments about what really pisses me off in the world; written in a very unfunny way due to the amount of spleen being vented.

But today I have pushed the envelope from the death of the Twinkie, to the looming war in the Middle East, and I think that's a big enough gap to cover my rear today.

Don't get me wrong, I am not belittling the death of the Twinkie. Apparently, Hostess Cakes made some huge gaffes by raising execs salaries while starving the workers (does this sound familiar?) Could we replay this mistake one more time, America? And it is us, who will pay by going without money due us, as Hostess files for bankruptcy, or the lack of Snoballs in the world where a dearth of Snoballs is now needed.

The end of the Roman Empire started with free circuses, and ended with the Huns and the Visigoths. But they had people like the philosopher Marcus Aurelius to soften the slow death with some dignity. No where in that decline is mentioned a single Twinkie...

But truly, and I cannot with all seriousness emphasize this more: the death of the Roman Empire started with the end of the Republic, and the beginning of the Empire. We, too, have entered that phase. It seems to me that we crossed over when we adopted the national motto of, "In God we Trust" over the idealistic motto of, "Out of Many, One."

I am not an atheist (nothing wrong with that world view, though), and I certainly am an expert on fear; but even I can see how that change betokened the smallness of the world view that we have today. We have Gitmo, and laws that say "your freedom can be restricted by the whim of the State." And that a 'liberal' president signed that bill into law, under pressure from the Senate and House, is a tiny death knell for us all. A bell cannot be unrung. And the laws of this Land have been tampered with for the ill forever. It will take generations to 'unlearn' that mindset.

And that mindset comes from some of us. And it comes from Fear.

So eat yon Twinkies while ye may. And let's ignore the signs of an Empire falling. We can only hope we go the way of Britain, which still exists as a State, and not the way of Rome.


Jack Gilbert:

A Brief for the Defense Sorrow everywhere. Slaughter everywhere. If babies are not starving someplace, they are starving somewhere else. With flies in their nostrils. But we enjoy our lives because that's what God wants. Otherwise the mornings before summer dawn would not be made so fine. The Bengal tiger would not be fashioned so miraculously well. The poor women at the fountain are laughing together between the suffering they have known and the awfulness in their future, smiling and laughing while somebody in the village is very sick. There is laughter every day in the terrible streets of Calcutta, and the women laugh in the cages of Bombay. If we deny our happiness, resist our satisfaction, we lessen the importance of their deprivation. We must risk delight. We can do without pleasure, but not delight. Not enjoyment. We must have the stubbornness to accept our gladness in the ruthless furnace of this world. To make injustice the only measure of our attention is to praise the Devil. If the locomotive of the Lord runs us down, we should give thanks that the end had magnitude. We must admit there will be music despite everything. We stand at the prow again of a small ship anchored late at night in the tiny port looking over to the sleeping island: the waterfront is three shuttered cafés and one naked light burning. To hear the faint sound of oars in the silence as a rowboat comes slowly out and then goes back is truly worth all the years of sorrow that are to come. From REFUSING HEAVEN (Knopf, 2005)

Not Very Organized

Ok. I wanted to talk about something profound, but don't want to come across as thinking too hard, too early in the day, after too much coffee and chocolate. But what the hell, let's go there anyway.

What bugs me the most is that I am treated like some wayward child by some couples after they find out I don't have children. Something in their hind brain kicks in, and I am lowered to the status of a second hand citizen, AND a child. The unknowing lectures I receive, and the poo-pooing of any opinion on children, child-bearing, and public attitudes about progeny (everyone's a critic) that I receive would stun Oscar Wilde. This is just one small example from an entire field.

And Southern Women are raised to be NICE. And that's just about all. Long-enduring, all-suffering, baking cakes and brownies after bringing the kids home from the soccer game and feeding them. Or, if you consider yourself a feminist in the perspective of the culture, you are hedonistically and dangerously sipping a glass of wine in the kitchen before donning that new negligee. Cups of hot chocolate, pinks and baby blue clothes after a "certain" age, lipstick, and anti-aging creams flood the market. The cost of panty hose alone is enough to overcome anyone of moderately fragile constitution, and can rise above some countries annual GNP.

And I know I am painting a simple picture. These examples are just the ones everyone knows about. Compare the advent of, say, Viagra, with that of public breast-feeding.Which one do you think gets the most positive press?

And if a Southern woman cannot be NICE, her image devolves into some kind of cave dweller, set out to destroy "our way of life." When all she really is a survivor. There is no room in her roles for self-expression, and if there is, there is a stereotype for that, too: a hip, upper-class, with a bohemian scarf around the head, and a tumble of curls coming from it, wearing rubber gloves and teaching children how to hand-paint. Sally Fields epitomizes her in commercials. But playing the bassoon? Don't think so. Too sexually suggestive...And so we have a stereotype of stereotypes, if you catch my drift...

Just some thoughts on this Sunday, and not very organized ones at that.

Hello Again

Well, new ostrich meat eating cat is still hiding in the bathroom. Don't worry. She has food, water, and a litter box. I often go in there to love on her, and Max whines softly at her from the floor. I'm quite sure that Max's love call is not a reassuring sound for her. But Max actually loves cats. We fostered a kitten one time and he was so lost and heartbroken when she was given back.

We'll see what I can come up with for tomorrow, shall we?

November?

This morning, the soft crunches from one of the unicorn meat eating cats tells me they are fattening up for winter. Georgia, the new kit, ventured out yesterday for an hour. I don't know what her life has been like so far, but I am guessing she is a stranger to dogs by the way she reacted to Max. She is fattening up considerably on the elk meat diet I have her on. I am going to have to call Schwann's for the ostrich meat.

Yesterday was brilliant, and warm for the season. I am waiting for the days where your breath mists out into the air. Is it because I am older that time seems to move so slowly and then so fast?

Hang on, folks. Eventually I will get up to speed again.

The Unicorn Meat Eating Cats

The unicorn meat eating cats are wildly excited about having a girl in the house. They have been missing female companionship since Echo went to the Bridge over a year ago now. They spend more time looking outside than going outside...although the light is enticing, and the view from the window makes them think there is a perpetual state of spring in existence.

This is a Beginning. Let's see how it unfolds.