I have thought, for years, that we are all Fancy Dirt.
Picture the moment before the big bang, compressed matter, then exploding forth into this realm of existence.
All matter here, they tell us in school, cannot be created or destroyed. In that case, we were all together, with everything else at that moment of universal creation.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. We and every other thing came from that cosmic (holy) dust. My observation of the workings of this universe show me that change is the constant. The dust rearranges itself all the time.
We are but temporary phenomena, as much as I wish we were not, that is how it is. We don't make the rules. They were in place before you came here and will not change when you leave. Life goes on within you and without you, not because of you.
The vessel for your unique consciousness returns to dirt to reform again and again. The dust that makes you has been present for all those billions of years.
All the things that seem ordinary, stars, machines, cities, oceans, creatures, clouds and sky, all were there with all of us at the moment of creation, so long ago.
I think it is an exercise in futility to say one knows how it works, but I do see the beauty of it.
I am a woman and I like that, in our bodies, we get to have the door into life and consciousness. Fancy dirt.
When I see the dead body of a loved one, I am so struck by the flight of it's consciousness from this realm, and the impending transformation to the state of dust, star dust.
I was also blown away when I realized the fact that the many existing things things like water, rocks, sky, trees and flowers, are blind. In a forest I always thought the trees knew the beautiful sight they made. But they are deaf and blind to their own beauty and that of their surroundings.
All the beauty and activity of the universe exists whether there is a creature to observe it.
God, to me is the Creator, Sustainer, and Destroyer of existence. The idea of being destroyed; of my being a temporary phenomenon, frightened me mightily when I was a child. It is knowledge that is hard to accept. If you come here you may stay only for a short time; everyone must leave. That's the deal. No getting out of it.
I imagine sometimes that perhaps we are to do the hard work; this is the place of broken hearts, broken bodies and minds , and evil, and love, and compassion, and beauty. I would hope that when we leave here we go to the next step; a place with no suffering or pain, with people who do no evil and love is not restricted to small pockets of goodness. I love the idea that we would not have to look past parts of a persons deeds and vices to see the Holiness there. The Holiness would be radiating from everything without the veil of ordinariness that cloaks our universe.
That there is even a thing such as existence and consciousness is amazing.
But that's just me.
Feel free to see it your way.
Love, Fancy Dirt
Sunday, July 31, 2005
Turkeys in the Dust
This morning I saw a huge flock of turkeys dusting themselves in some dirt I tilled yesterday. There were only a couple of adults, the rest were adolescent chicks. It looked like "dusting class". I love to watch the way the adults protect and chaperon the chicks, and teach them about life and survival. I counted 26 in all.
There was a little faun in the yard a couple of weeks ago. It was spectacular! It was making little bleating sounds like a lamb. I think it was way too little to be out exploring. It was probably two and a half feet tall to the tips of it's ears. I got to within about 8 feet of him before he ducked back into the pine trees, thank goodness. I suspect that is where his mother wanted him to stay.
We have the ideal habitat for watching wildlife on our seven acres: we are surrounded by tall grass fields ; and our land has wooded areas and pine tree islands, set in a mostly manicured, mowed, park-like, wildlife friendly haven (except for our cat the bird and bunny hunter). He ate one two days ago, naturally it was right outside the front door. I hate to see the ghoulish remains of his hunting on the door stoop. But he must hunt, it's who he is, a cat.
Last night he brought a baby bunny to the porch. He seems to have been gentle with it, there were no wounds. The bunny was very little and I worried about where I should release it. I had no idea where his mother could be, so I just took him to a place between the woods and an unmowed field and left him to choose his path.
There was a little faun in the yard a couple of weeks ago. It was spectacular! It was making little bleating sounds like a lamb. I think it was way too little to be out exploring. It was probably two and a half feet tall to the tips of it's ears. I got to within about 8 feet of him before he ducked back into the pine trees, thank goodness. I suspect that is where his mother wanted him to stay.
We have the ideal habitat for watching wildlife on our seven acres: we are surrounded by tall grass fields ; and our land has wooded areas and pine tree islands, set in a mostly manicured, mowed, park-like, wildlife friendly haven (except for our cat the bird and bunny hunter). He ate one two days ago, naturally it was right outside the front door. I hate to see the ghoulish remains of his hunting on the door stoop. But he must hunt, it's who he is, a cat.
Last night he brought a baby bunny to the porch. He seems to have been gentle with it, there were no wounds. The bunny was very little and I worried about where I should release it. I had no idea where his mother could be, so I just took him to a place between the woods and an unmowed field and left him to choose his path.
Thursday, July 21, 2005
Stuff From the Old Blogs: Easily Distrac and Easily Destroyed
Hiding the Blog
Saturday, May 28, 2005
I had to change the name of my blog to hide it.
My husband was not comfortable with my frankness, and felt I might be hurting the feelings of the fictional characters I write about. Funny, some of them have sometimes hurt my feelings in real-life, so I mistakenly thought they could take it; they never had any problem with dishing it out.
Just don't read the blog if you don't like it. Bette Midler used to say, "Fuck 'em if they can't take a joke!" I wouldn't call my entries jokes, but the general feeling is the same.
My mother has frequently said that remembering the pain inflicted on me by others is "self flagellation", and she thinks I get off on it, "whaa, whaa, poor me.". What a load of shit.
My blog, my dumping ground, my memories.I know everything is filtered through each person's brain, personality and their point of view. I've always thought it would be interesting to get other people to tell the same story, based on their point of view.
posted by Fancy Dirt @ 6:39 AM
Too Stunned to Cry
Saturday, May 28, 2005
Weird weeks are not uncommon for me. This week has been another one. I hope by writing about it, I will jinx the "cancer scare" into just that: a harmless scare.I have not had a mammogram in over a decade. I'm not good at approximating time stretches, so I do the best I can, which sometimes turns out to be close, but inaccurate. I had one last Saturday. The radiologist sees it early this week and they call me back in for further pictures of my right breast. They show me three places they want a clearer view of. Immediately after they look at the new pictures, they take me to have an ultra-sound done. This is slightly unnerving, because I know she is measuring the size and location of something, even though I can't see the screen, I can hear her making those tell-tale clicks on the computer. "Please try not to worry, Dear." She was very nice. I liked her. It still seems impossible that I might have breast cancer; just like it felt impossible, when I was getting tests and a biopsy that eventually showed I have an incurable, deadly liver disease. I'll leave out the details on my shrunken kidney and the fibromuscular displaysia in the artery that goes to it, and my other health problems. It's so boring to have to read about, and I already know them well.
Many other things happened, too, but I am so tired of my "happily ever after" being derailed by my concern, worry, devastation, etc., for my two sons. I was instructed, by my counselor and by Savant's wonderful new Psychiatrist, to let go of them and save myself. To stop seeing myself as a failure as a parent, because they CHOSE to do what they have done, or have brain diseases that are no one's fault. I can change no-one but me. I've been raging at my powerlessness. I can't watch them crash and burn anymore. I have been told to look away; their choices are THEIR choices, now that they are adults. Accept what is, and not be sad about what I thought it was going to be. I am going to try to appear to be happy, even if I'm not really feeling that way yet; focus on the positive.
posted by Fancy Dirt @ 8:04 AM
Bandage? What Bandage?
Monday, May 02, 2005
My counselor had to cancel our weekly appointment today. I love to see her, and she is helping me get on with the future. But, I'm a little relieved to have another week. I didn't want to have her see my bandaged wrist, this morning, because I can't lie to her.
Fun In A Cloud Of Poison
Saturday, April 30, 2005
Sometimes on the base in Japan a couple of guys in fifties hazardous material gear would make the rounds spraying everyone's garbage barrels with DDT. I remember sitting, with my little sister, on the sill of our screen-less bedroom window watching them, asking them what they were doing. I can't remember for sure now, but I think we followed them to the other end of the hut , and watched them spray our neighbor's barrels too.
Fast forward to second grade. We moved to Austin, TX. One of the fun things to do in the summer, was to chase the "bug truck". It would spray a fog of chemicals, mainly to kill mosquitoes. The kids loved to run behind the truck in the fog it made. I loved doing it because it was like being in a cloud.I asked my mother if the poison would hurt us and she said, probably not, it was just to kill bugs. I think that mixture is illegal in the United States now. I think I'm safe, though, because every label I read on poison these days, leads me to deduce that I'll only develop cancer if I move to California.
National Geographic had a picture of one of the bug spray trucks in the back of it's magazine a few years ago. Wow, did that bring back some memories!
posted by Fancy Dirt @ 4:43 PM
Snatch Instead of Bush
Friday, April 29, 2005
We watched "Snatch" instead of "Bush" last night. It was purely coincidental. My husband had never seen it (a Guy Ritchie movie, for those of you with dirty minds) and it just came from Netflix, so it was a no-brainer. I enjoy retorting constantly, to the TV, during press conferences, but for some reason, my husband would rather sit in the rain than listen to me rant at the TV.
posted by Fancy Dirt @ 4:41 PM
Let's Teach That Little Bitch To Share
Friday, April 29, 2005
I really refer to it as "The Horrible Heath Bar Christmas." I was about five years old. We lived in Japan and it was Christmas time. My mother told me that the ship that was bringing us all our Christmas presents sank. I pictured a ship and hundreds of wonderful toys sinking to the ocean floor. Fish swimming by slightly puzzled by these odd things drifting past them .... like a fish needs a bicycle.
On Christmas morning there were some presents after all. I cut them some slack on the missing horse, but it was going to be a good Christmas after all, because I got a box of 6 Heath Bars! (They were each about three inches long back then.) My very favorite candy! This was the best present ever! What I didn't know was that my parents had an evil plan they were about to spring on me. At that time there were five people in the family( it got larger about five years later.)
Apparently they thought I needed a "character building experience". They demanded that I share MY HEATH BARS with everyone in the family! That meant that I would only have two to keep. The little wheels in my brain and heart began to smoke and screech and emit a primal scream. Christmas wasn't supposed to work that way! I shared and felt like DIRT. My parents thought it was such a funny joke to make me give away the candy bars.
To this day, I don't share unless I want to, and I don't trust my parents. Well OK, I find it hard to trust anyone.
They did succeeded in remolding my character that Christmas; just not in the way they thought they would.
posted by Fancy Dirt @ 4:37 PM
Either These Gloomy Blog Entries Go or I Do
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
I stole that from Oscar Wilde, but his had to do with the wallpaper.
posted by Fancy Dirt @ 7:45 AM
Cat Riders
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
Most birds look forward to a healthy nest of chicks each year, and that is what most of them have. They teach the chicks what to eat, how to fly, how to groom their feathers and how to avoid dangers. They show them which worms will poison them, which animals will try to eat them, etc.. Basics for a happy life of soaring on the breezes, playing with the other birds, and experiencing the joy of raising a pretty brood of their own.
However, there is one kind of chick that is rarely talked about and that is the Cat Rider. Most, but not all, Cat Riders are male. These chicks will sample small bites of the poison worms; usually not enough to kill them, but it is very dangerous and confuses their thinking and their ability to fly. Most chicks know this is stupid, but Cat Riders just seem drawn to danger. Before too long, most chicks realize that they must give up the poison worms and toying with the idea of becoming a Cat Rider if they expect to have a happy life.
The most feared kind of Cat Rider is the rare chick that skips the poison worms and goes straight to riding cats. When a chick like this comes along, it's family becomes consumed by despair. No amount of pleading and reasoning stops them. Stories are told of the Cat Riders of the past. The cat always wins in the end.
One unfortunate brood of chicks produced two Cat Riders, one of each kind. This brood had three of the loveliest little chicks you'd ever hope to find. There was only one female, a happy, dependable chick, and the only one not afflicted with this dreadful compulsion. They were all beautiful and lovable, but unfortunately she had less of the parent birds' attention, because trying to keep her siblings away from cats was a constant struggle for them. She was a wonderful bird, and the parent birds hoped she knew she was dear in their hearts.
The legends say that all a parent's love will not save Cat Riders. Once they leave the nest, their decisions are their own. Even the ones that may end with the cat's teeth and claws.
posted by Fancy Dirt @ 8:32 PM
Bluegrass Guns N' Roses
Monday, April 25, 2005
A couple of days ago my husband had a birthday. I didn't plan anything, because I knew they would probably cake him at work. And, we were going to a volunteer appreciation dinner that night at the local Golf Club. Vince Gill and Amy Grant were there. The house band was fronted by a female singer and the rest of the band, in Hee-Haw wardrobe, reinterpreted every song, regardless of genre, into Bluegrass. Vince was frisky and joined the band for a few songs. It was fun, and I told my husband how lucky he was to have Local Royalty singing to him on his Birthday, pretending this was really his b'day party.
I had to laugh when the little lady and the band, fiddels and all, broke into a Guns N' Roses song, sweetly singing Axl Rose's part, minus the loud, raw, grating voice, kick ass, sweaty, sexuality.
Most of the crowd would have to use two hands to count their decades, so they didn't even blink; probably thought it was just an old Bluegrass standard.
It was fun, but then, I don't get out much.
posted by Fancy Dirt @ 6:22 AM
Lost It in Walmart
Saturday, April 23, 2005
My beloved Savant has been trying to get a job for the summer. We all thought he had repaid his debt to society, with a few months in jail and "probation good boy", passing piss tests with flying colors. He wants to earn his own money for the payments the probation office demands.
He fills out the forms honestly, even the part of the application where they ask if you have ever been convicted of a crime, no matter how petty it was or how delusional his mental illness made him at the time. This is when The United States of America, the Bill of Rights, etc., turn into merely a pretty concept, not the reality of this place we love and live in. That is where the interview ends. That is where the Background Check kicks you in the ass for 7 to 10 years. When the faces go blank with the "Don't call us, we'll (not) be calling you." stare.
Well, yesterday it was Walmart's turn. I thought I'd browse, picking up groceries and miscellaneous needs while he did the interview. After about an hour, I found where the interview was being held, and someone outside the office told me they were not finished yet, so I go browsing again. Then I catch sight of Savant. He says something like, let's get out of here, and he's not happy. When I asked how it went, he said, same as everywhere else. I headed to the office, and Savant wanted us to just leave. Told me to just leave it alone. He went outside and I headed straight to the interview office.
Angry Rant was begun! I won't try to repeat it, but I later told Savant if they call to offer him a job, don't be surprised if the guy says, "Your Mom seems to think you could do my job with half your brain removed." We all know there will be no call.
The reason I give these people, who I know are just doing what they have been told to do, a reality check, is because so many people are not able or willing to stand up for themselves. Also, I don't care if they think I'm a Bitch, I have a message about right and wrong that needs to be conveyed to all who may have contact with someone who might have a brain AND a heart.
Some of the people who have repaid their "debt" to society, give up, if they are refused a job doing even the most menial things; they may end up on the streets, return to an addiction, blow their brains out, stress their marriages past the breaking point, descend into depression, and on, and on... If a person is a murderer or child molester, I agree there might be good reason to cull them from the employment pool at most places. But these Background Check Places have used the Credit Report Model; steal a pencil and it's 7 to 10 years in the alley for you, scum.
By ranting at the manager, I pissed off Savant, who was already feeling lower than a turd. It is ironic that my love for him is seen, by him, as unwanted, misguided interference, and creates a rift between us. He went wild in the truck on the way home, he was so pissed at me. "Hay! Wait! I have a new complaint! Forever in debt to your priceless advice!" -Kurt Cobain. He broke the inside of the door, but thankfully not his arm. When he is NOT having symptoms, he is funny, kind, smart,_______ insert wonderful quality here.
I'm suffering, and I'm a fuck-up, but I'm trying to do better every day. I want Love and protection to fix everything; it never does, does it?
posted by Fancy Dirt @ 6:28 AM
George Ringo the First - No
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
Pope Benedict XVI is a much more dignified name. Congratulations to all you Catholics.
posted by Fancy Dirt @ 5:17 AM
XO Mom
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
This morning I've been listening to Elliott Smith..."I'm never gonna know you now, but I'm gonna love you anyhow"... and I often ponder why such beautiful souls end their own lives.
Not just artists. We know so many. One writer said, "All it takes is one bad day." So many might have weathered their pain with medication, but I know that wouldn't solve everything for everyone.
All saddness does not come from a malfunctioning of brain chemestry. Sometimes I think it is lack of tribes in our culture. Isolation is hard to take for some of us. How wonderful if we could be like a pile of snuggling puppies or kittens with each other. Innocent; no ulterior motives, no vengence, no bad memories.
Some ingest chemicals to soothe the pain, ignore it or to LEAVE. The thing about this special kind of pain is that no one deserves it. It is not punishment from God, a moral flaw, bad karma, weakness, ... Sometimes it feels like these people have an ocean of Love that they have no way to exchange with other people, or don't know how.
I had a dream last week where I was pure soul, merging with another pure soul. It was Bliss. It was huge and amorphous. That is more my concept of an "afterlife", should there be such a thing, than any other hypothesis. Merging in and out of an ocean of souls of pure love and bliss. Count me in. I've heard it said that God is Love; perhaps the person who coined that had the same blissful dreams.
Melons Galore
Saturday, April 16, 2005
Meet Melons Galore.
She has "issues" if you know what I mean. She almost made Mr. Bond take notice, but got passed over for her sister, Pussy.
Sibling rivalry was never a problem for these girls, until Pussy, mistakenly, began to believe that Melons was a double agent. That's for another story.
These girls were smart. Complicated technical fields were their forte. While Pussy forged ahead and never looked back, Melons began to run into obstacles. Her first boss told her that he thought she would change his life. "Ha ha, I can't imagine how", she said, pretending not to get it, but she was becoming sad at the realization, that all her training and skill may not have been what got her the job. Not wanting her boss to know that she was puzzled, (pissed came later after psychotherapy) she played it cool.
Having discussed this odd wish of her boss's with the man in her life that night, she found that he made her pregnant before she left for work the next morning. He really didn't need to mark his territory that way, Melons was not tempted and could take care of herself with any man (except for that just getting pregnant thing.)
Melons was beginning to wonder why she had spent all that time in University, if she was always going to be seen as a soft place for a man to rest his head. And, while she always wants a man, she is now convinced that they are the weaker sex. Let them call that broken X chromosome a Y if they want to. You don't have to be a brain surgeon to know boys cause just about all the trouble in the world; just turn on the news.
posted by Fancy Dirt @5:54 PM
A Thunderbolt To the Liar
Friday, April 15, 2005
*"When you are drowning and you reach out for help, what you grab onto is another drowning person." - Me
*"This is the true joy in life, the being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one; the being thoroughly worn out before you are thrown on the scrap heap; the being a force of nature instead of a feverish selfish little clod of ailments and grievences complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy." -George Bernard Shaw
*"Be mild with the mild, shrewd with the crafty, confiding to the honest, rough to the ruffian, and a thunderbolt to the liar. But in all this, never be unmindful of your own dignity."
- John Brown
*"Even if you're on the right track, you'll get run over if you just sit there." -Will Rogers
*"Not all who wander are lost." - J. R. R. Tolkien
*"My whole life has been Go. I want to know what Stay feels like."- Me
*"You have not lived until you have done something for someone who can never repay you."- John Bunyan
*Fear
Anger
Tears
- Me
posted by Fancy Dirt @6:25 AM
Idiot Like a Savant
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
I realized, after telling friends and family that I had a Blog, that I had committed the first mistake new bloggers make.
Anonymity just went out the window. Now I have to make up pseudonyms for all the people I want to mention here, to avoid alienating everyone I've ever known. I was well on the way to that without the blog, so if you think you recognize yourself, you might be right, you might be wrong. I love you all, regardless of the horrible things I will say about some of the fictional characters you read about here. I want to get lots of things out of my head, leave it here, and free up some space in there, and maybe my dream of doing math in my head will become a reality.
One character is "Idiot Like a Savant", he came up with that, but it has too many words, so I will call him Savant for short. He has a conundrum, according to me, "Are you grandiose if you really are grand?" It boils down to, "If you'll stop saying I'm being grandiose, I'll stop calling you an idiot." This seems to really piss off psychiatrists and counselors; he's finished with this infuriating game and does not waste his time on them or their pills any more.He is certified with a grandiose I.Q., has completed two semesters of college making him a Junior who plans to end up with at least three degrees in Physics, Fine Arts, and Mathematics when he graduates. At least that's the plan today. The rub in the whole thing is that, in the past, he has entered a different dimension of reality at times. His work astounds me, and he recently said something to the effect of, "Picture Van Gogh telling people in the loony bin that he will be venerated by the world as one of the greatest artists that ever lived. Sounds like grandiosity to me!"
posted by Fancy Dirt @ 6:24 AM
Saturday, May 28, 2005
I had to change the name of my blog to hide it.
My husband was not comfortable with my frankness, and felt I might be hurting the feelings of the fictional characters I write about. Funny, some of them have sometimes hurt my feelings in real-life, so I mistakenly thought they could take it; they never had any problem with dishing it out.
Just don't read the blog if you don't like it. Bette Midler used to say, "Fuck 'em if they can't take a joke!" I wouldn't call my entries jokes, but the general feeling is the same.
My mother has frequently said that remembering the pain inflicted on me by others is "self flagellation", and she thinks I get off on it, "whaa, whaa, poor me.". What a load of shit.
My blog, my dumping ground, my memories.I know everything is filtered through each person's brain, personality and their point of view. I've always thought it would be interesting to get other people to tell the same story, based on their point of view.
posted by Fancy Dirt @ 6:39 AM
Too Stunned to Cry
Saturday, May 28, 2005
Weird weeks are not uncommon for me. This week has been another one. I hope by writing about it, I will jinx the "cancer scare" into just that: a harmless scare.I have not had a mammogram in over a decade. I'm not good at approximating time stretches, so I do the best I can, which sometimes turns out to be close, but inaccurate. I had one last Saturday. The radiologist sees it early this week and they call me back in for further pictures of my right breast. They show me three places they want a clearer view of. Immediately after they look at the new pictures, they take me to have an ultra-sound done. This is slightly unnerving, because I know she is measuring the size and location of something, even though I can't see the screen, I can hear her making those tell-tale clicks on the computer. "Please try not to worry, Dear." She was very nice. I liked her. It still seems impossible that I might have breast cancer; just like it felt impossible, when I was getting tests and a biopsy that eventually showed I have an incurable, deadly liver disease. I'll leave out the details on my shrunken kidney and the fibromuscular displaysia in the artery that goes to it, and my other health problems. It's so boring to have to read about, and I already know them well.
Many other things happened, too, but I am so tired of my "happily ever after" being derailed by my concern, worry, devastation, etc., for my two sons. I was instructed, by my counselor and by Savant's wonderful new Psychiatrist, to let go of them and save myself. To stop seeing myself as a failure as a parent, because they CHOSE to do what they have done, or have brain diseases that are no one's fault. I can change no-one but me. I've been raging at my powerlessness. I can't watch them crash and burn anymore. I have been told to look away; their choices are THEIR choices, now that they are adults. Accept what is, and not be sad about what I thought it was going to be. I am going to try to appear to be happy, even if I'm not really feeling that way yet; focus on the positive.
posted by Fancy Dirt @ 8:04 AM
Bandage? What Bandage?
Monday, May 02, 2005
My counselor had to cancel our weekly appointment today. I love to see her, and she is helping me get on with the future. But, I'm a little relieved to have another week. I didn't want to have her see my bandaged wrist, this morning, because I can't lie to her.
Fun In A Cloud Of Poison
Saturday, April 30, 2005
Sometimes on the base in Japan a couple of guys in fifties hazardous material gear would make the rounds spraying everyone's garbage barrels with DDT. I remember sitting, with my little sister, on the sill of our screen-less bedroom window watching them, asking them what they were doing. I can't remember for sure now, but I think we followed them to the other end of the hut , and watched them spray our neighbor's barrels too.
Fast forward to second grade. We moved to Austin, TX. One of the fun things to do in the summer, was to chase the "bug truck". It would spray a fog of chemicals, mainly to kill mosquitoes. The kids loved to run behind the truck in the fog it made. I loved doing it because it was like being in a cloud.I asked my mother if the poison would hurt us and she said, probably not, it was just to kill bugs. I think that mixture is illegal in the United States now. I think I'm safe, though, because every label I read on poison these days, leads me to deduce that I'll only develop cancer if I move to California.
National Geographic had a picture of one of the bug spray trucks in the back of it's magazine a few years ago. Wow, did that bring back some memories!
posted by Fancy Dirt @ 4:43 PM
Snatch Instead of Bush
Friday, April 29, 2005
We watched "Snatch" instead of "Bush" last night. It was purely coincidental. My husband had never seen it (a Guy Ritchie movie, for those of you with dirty minds) and it just came from Netflix, so it was a no-brainer. I enjoy retorting constantly, to the TV, during press conferences, but for some reason, my husband would rather sit in the rain than listen to me rant at the TV.
posted by Fancy Dirt @ 4:41 PM
Let's Teach That Little Bitch To Share
Friday, April 29, 2005
I really refer to it as "The Horrible Heath Bar Christmas." I was about five years old. We lived in Japan and it was Christmas time. My mother told me that the ship that was bringing us all our Christmas presents sank. I pictured a ship and hundreds of wonderful toys sinking to the ocean floor. Fish swimming by slightly puzzled by these odd things drifting past them .... like a fish needs a bicycle.
On Christmas morning there were some presents after all. I cut them some slack on the missing horse, but it was going to be a good Christmas after all, because I got a box of 6 Heath Bars! (They were each about three inches long back then.) My very favorite candy! This was the best present ever! What I didn't know was that my parents had an evil plan they were about to spring on me. At that time there were five people in the family( it got larger about five years later.)
Apparently they thought I needed a "character building experience". They demanded that I share MY HEATH BARS with everyone in the family! That meant that I would only have two to keep. The little wheels in my brain and heart began to smoke and screech and emit a primal scream. Christmas wasn't supposed to work that way! I shared and felt like DIRT. My parents thought it was such a funny joke to make me give away the candy bars.
To this day, I don't share unless I want to, and I don't trust my parents. Well OK, I find it hard to trust anyone.
They did succeeded in remolding my character that Christmas; just not in the way they thought they would.
posted by Fancy Dirt @ 4:37 PM
Either These Gloomy Blog Entries Go or I Do
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
I stole that from Oscar Wilde, but his had to do with the wallpaper.
posted by Fancy Dirt @ 7:45 AM
Cat Riders
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
Most birds look forward to a healthy nest of chicks each year, and that is what most of them have. They teach the chicks what to eat, how to fly, how to groom their feathers and how to avoid dangers. They show them which worms will poison them, which animals will try to eat them, etc.. Basics for a happy life of soaring on the breezes, playing with the other birds, and experiencing the joy of raising a pretty brood of their own.
However, there is one kind of chick that is rarely talked about and that is the Cat Rider. Most, but not all, Cat Riders are male. These chicks will sample small bites of the poison worms; usually not enough to kill them, but it is very dangerous and confuses their thinking and their ability to fly. Most chicks know this is stupid, but Cat Riders just seem drawn to danger. Before too long, most chicks realize that they must give up the poison worms and toying with the idea of becoming a Cat Rider if they expect to have a happy life.
The most feared kind of Cat Rider is the rare chick that skips the poison worms and goes straight to riding cats. When a chick like this comes along, it's family becomes consumed by despair. No amount of pleading and reasoning stops them. Stories are told of the Cat Riders of the past. The cat always wins in the end.
One unfortunate brood of chicks produced two Cat Riders, one of each kind. This brood had three of the loveliest little chicks you'd ever hope to find. There was only one female, a happy, dependable chick, and the only one not afflicted with this dreadful compulsion. They were all beautiful and lovable, but unfortunately she had less of the parent birds' attention, because trying to keep her siblings away from cats was a constant struggle for them. She was a wonderful bird, and the parent birds hoped she knew she was dear in their hearts.
The legends say that all a parent's love will not save Cat Riders. Once they leave the nest, their decisions are their own. Even the ones that may end with the cat's teeth and claws.
posted by Fancy Dirt @ 8:32 PM
Bluegrass Guns N' Roses
Monday, April 25, 2005
A couple of days ago my husband had a birthday. I didn't plan anything, because I knew they would probably cake him at work. And, we were going to a volunteer appreciation dinner that night at the local Golf Club. Vince Gill and Amy Grant were there. The house band was fronted by a female singer and the rest of the band, in Hee-Haw wardrobe, reinterpreted every song, regardless of genre, into Bluegrass. Vince was frisky and joined the band for a few songs. It was fun, and I told my husband how lucky he was to have Local Royalty singing to him on his Birthday, pretending this was really his b'day party.
I had to laugh when the little lady and the band, fiddels and all, broke into a Guns N' Roses song, sweetly singing Axl Rose's part, minus the loud, raw, grating voice, kick ass, sweaty, sexuality.
Most of the crowd would have to use two hands to count their decades, so they didn't even blink; probably thought it was just an old Bluegrass standard.
It was fun, but then, I don't get out much.
posted by Fancy Dirt @ 6:22 AM
Lost It in Walmart
Saturday, April 23, 2005
My beloved Savant has been trying to get a job for the summer. We all thought he had repaid his debt to society, with a few months in jail and "probation good boy", passing piss tests with flying colors. He wants to earn his own money for the payments the probation office demands.
He fills out the forms honestly, even the part of the application where they ask if you have ever been convicted of a crime, no matter how petty it was or how delusional his mental illness made him at the time. This is when The United States of America, the Bill of Rights, etc., turn into merely a pretty concept, not the reality of this place we love and live in. That is where the interview ends. That is where the Background Check kicks you in the ass for 7 to 10 years. When the faces go blank with the "Don't call us, we'll (not) be calling you." stare.
Well, yesterday it was Walmart's turn. I thought I'd browse, picking up groceries and miscellaneous needs while he did the interview. After about an hour, I found where the interview was being held, and someone outside the office told me they were not finished yet, so I go browsing again. Then I catch sight of Savant. He says something like, let's get out of here, and he's not happy. When I asked how it went, he said, same as everywhere else. I headed to the office, and Savant wanted us to just leave. Told me to just leave it alone. He went outside and I headed straight to the interview office.
Angry Rant was begun! I won't try to repeat it, but I later told Savant if they call to offer him a job, don't be surprised if the guy says, "Your Mom seems to think you could do my job with half your brain removed." We all know there will be no call.
The reason I give these people, who I know are just doing what they have been told to do, a reality check, is because so many people are not able or willing to stand up for themselves. Also, I don't care if they think I'm a Bitch, I have a message about right and wrong that needs to be conveyed to all who may have contact with someone who might have a brain AND a heart.
Some of the people who have repaid their "debt" to society, give up, if they are refused a job doing even the most menial things; they may end up on the streets, return to an addiction, blow their brains out, stress their marriages past the breaking point, descend into depression, and on, and on... If a person is a murderer or child molester, I agree there might be good reason to cull them from the employment pool at most places. But these Background Check Places have used the Credit Report Model; steal a pencil and it's 7 to 10 years in the alley for you, scum.
By ranting at the manager, I pissed off Savant, who was already feeling lower than a turd. It is ironic that my love for him is seen, by him, as unwanted, misguided interference, and creates a rift between us. He went wild in the truck on the way home, he was so pissed at me. "Hay! Wait! I have a new complaint! Forever in debt to your priceless advice!" -Kurt Cobain. He broke the inside of the door, but thankfully not his arm. When he is NOT having symptoms, he is funny, kind, smart,_______ insert wonderful quality here.
I'm suffering, and I'm a fuck-up, but I'm trying to do better every day. I want Love and protection to fix everything; it never does, does it?
posted by Fancy Dirt @ 6:28 AM
George Ringo the First - No
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
Pope Benedict XVI is a much more dignified name. Congratulations to all you Catholics.
posted by Fancy Dirt @ 5:17 AM
XO Mom
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
This morning I've been listening to Elliott Smith..."I'm never gonna know you now, but I'm gonna love you anyhow"... and I often ponder why such beautiful souls end their own lives.
Not just artists. We know so many. One writer said, "All it takes is one bad day." So many might have weathered their pain with medication, but I know that wouldn't solve everything for everyone.
All saddness does not come from a malfunctioning of brain chemestry. Sometimes I think it is lack of tribes in our culture. Isolation is hard to take for some of us. How wonderful if we could be like a pile of snuggling puppies or kittens with each other. Innocent; no ulterior motives, no vengence, no bad memories.
Some ingest chemicals to soothe the pain, ignore it or to LEAVE. The thing about this special kind of pain is that no one deserves it. It is not punishment from God, a moral flaw, bad karma, weakness, ... Sometimes it feels like these people have an ocean of Love that they have no way to exchange with other people, or don't know how.
I had a dream last week where I was pure soul, merging with another pure soul. It was Bliss. It was huge and amorphous. That is more my concept of an "afterlife", should there be such a thing, than any other hypothesis. Merging in and out of an ocean of souls of pure love and bliss. Count me in. I've heard it said that God is Love; perhaps the person who coined that had the same blissful dreams.
Melons Galore
Saturday, April 16, 2005
Meet Melons Galore.
She has "issues" if you know what I mean. She almost made Mr. Bond take notice, but got passed over for her sister, Pussy.
Sibling rivalry was never a problem for these girls, until Pussy, mistakenly, began to believe that Melons was a double agent. That's for another story.
These girls were smart. Complicated technical fields were their forte. While Pussy forged ahead and never looked back, Melons began to run into obstacles. Her first boss told her that he thought she would change his life. "Ha ha, I can't imagine how", she said, pretending not to get it, but she was becoming sad at the realization, that all her training and skill may not have been what got her the job. Not wanting her boss to know that she was puzzled, (pissed came later after psychotherapy) she played it cool.
Having discussed this odd wish of her boss's with the man in her life that night, she found that he made her pregnant before she left for work the next morning. He really didn't need to mark his territory that way, Melons was not tempted and could take care of herself with any man (except for that just getting pregnant thing.)
Melons was beginning to wonder why she had spent all that time in University, if she was always going to be seen as a soft place for a man to rest his head. And, while she always wants a man, she is now convinced that they are the weaker sex. Let them call that broken X chromosome a Y if they want to. You don't have to be a brain surgeon to know boys cause just about all the trouble in the world; just turn on the news.
posted by Fancy Dirt @5:54 PM
A Thunderbolt To the Liar
Friday, April 15, 2005
*"When you are drowning and you reach out for help, what you grab onto is another drowning person." - Me
*"This is the true joy in life, the being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one; the being thoroughly worn out before you are thrown on the scrap heap; the being a force of nature instead of a feverish selfish little clod of ailments and grievences complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy." -George Bernard Shaw
*"Be mild with the mild, shrewd with the crafty, confiding to the honest, rough to the ruffian, and a thunderbolt to the liar. But in all this, never be unmindful of your own dignity."
- John Brown
*"Even if you're on the right track, you'll get run over if you just sit there." -Will Rogers
*"Not all who wander are lost." - J. R. R. Tolkien
*"My whole life has been Go. I want to know what Stay feels like."- Me
*"You have not lived until you have done something for someone who can never repay you."- John Bunyan
*Fear
Anger
Tears
- Me
posted by Fancy Dirt @6:25 AM
Idiot Like a Savant
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
I realized, after telling friends and family that I had a Blog, that I had committed the first mistake new bloggers make.
Anonymity just went out the window. Now I have to make up pseudonyms for all the people I want to mention here, to avoid alienating everyone I've ever known. I was well on the way to that without the blog, so if you think you recognize yourself, you might be right, you might be wrong. I love you all, regardless of the horrible things I will say about some of the fictional characters you read about here. I want to get lots of things out of my head, leave it here, and free up some space in there, and maybe my dream of doing math in my head will become a reality.
One character is "Idiot Like a Savant", he came up with that, but it has too many words, so I will call him Savant for short. He has a conundrum, according to me, "Are you grandiose if you really are grand?" It boils down to, "If you'll stop saying I'm being grandiose, I'll stop calling you an idiot." This seems to really piss off psychiatrists and counselors; he's finished with this infuriating game and does not waste his time on them or their pills any more.He is certified with a grandiose I.Q., has completed two semesters of college making him a Junior who plans to end up with at least three degrees in Physics, Fine Arts, and Mathematics when he graduates. At least that's the plan today. The rub in the whole thing is that, in the past, he has entered a different dimension of reality at times. His work astounds me, and he recently said something to the effect of, "Picture Van Gogh telling people in the loony bin that he will be venerated by the world as one of the greatest artists that ever lived. Sounds like grandiosity to me!"
posted by Fancy Dirt @ 6:24 AM
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)