I can just feel it in the bottom of my stomach that I won’t be sleeping well tonight. I’ve actually felt kind of down and like crying for a few days now. I get that way when I don’t quite know what to do or think about a situation. (Purposely being vague.) I know who the people are that I’d like to commisserate with and who of those I don’t want to be around. I know what it is I think I need and what it is I probably actually need. I know that I am already tired of being tired about being tired. So… what to do? I suppose I’ll do what I always do. In fact, the same thing I’ve been doing since I was a kid and nightmares kept me up. Though I won’t arrange the stuffed animals around me in a circle like an audience… yeah I don’t do that part anymore.  But I’m sure I will lay there either staring at the ceiling or with my face in the pillow talking myself to sleep.  Telling a little story of how if could or should or would be.  It doesn’t work so well as it used to.

What will it be then…. go back to the good old bad days when I used sit in some gawd-awful chat room until the wee hours?  Or stare at the ceiling and pray for peace??  Maybe I should have a poll and let me readers decide… lol.

Current Mood: Crying! & Depressed & Sad & Stressed out & Tired

Current Mood: Sad & Bitchy! & Bad & On my soapbox & Sick

It’s been a tumultuous couple decades to say the least.  Too many proposals me thinks – there is (rather was) apparently something about me (or possibly in the water) back in my heyday that elicited premature and\or unfounded marriage proposals.  I accepted a handful.  Four made it to the license bureau; only two of those made it to the alter.  And those two didn’t really work out so I had to whack ‘em.  (Just kidding – but I should have, really.)  The last one is still hangin’ about but I wouldn’t lay odds on that ever coming to fruition… we’ve actually applied for a license twice in the last ten years but it never gets any further than that.  So, In a nutshell I’ve had more than my fair share of the men folk.  I’m done with that noise… they’re all your ladies – have at ‘em!

Four little monkeys jumping on the bed… wow!  To think that I adamantly adhered to a no kids no marriage policy in my high school family planning class!  I wasn’t going to have any kids, in fact, judging by the pile of SOF, Survival & Ninja magazines under my bed at age 16 the basic plan would have had me a top mercenary working for the likes of Blackwater by now!  Oh how the worm has turned!  Two teens and two toddlers!  You might think there’s a sea-change between them but I can tell you that the number one complaint on both fronts is perceived lack of attention from Mommy! Certainly they act out or respond differently to that ‘problem’ but the solution is the same – Momma gots to give’m some lovin’!  My near terrible-two twinnies would insist that an empty water cup in the night is paramount to tragedy and the teens are sure that Armageddon is upon us if we don’t have the latest, greatest, fill-in-the-blank.  At the end of the crisis, whether I fill a water cup or a head with common sense; I find all my chitlins to be resourceful, resilient and a true delight to me.  I love how they react to things at 2 or 14 or 17.  They remind me constantly of the wonder of things.  They make me remember that things really aren’t as complicated as ‘the man’ wants us to believe.

It certainly took a few reinventions of me which included long-distance moves, new jobs, going back to school (again and again), campaigning for the right – and the left, finding God, losing Him, and then finding Her again before I finally started to discover who I really am.  I have to say that my giving up my good friends, Jack, Jim & Jose back in 2005 was a true turning point. Unencumbered by that fog I found that I am much more than just someone’s wife\girlfriend, more than just Mom or Sister or Aunt or Daughter – I am me.  That quest of self-discovery is ongoing.

Recent history has wrought far too many losses.  Things that make a person not only contemplate their own mortality but that make you step back and take a dim view on humanity.  Your own humanity and place in this Earth but more so the inhumanity of others.  It is all-at-once, eye-opening, heart-breaking, frightening, damning.  It has the propensity to turn you into a recluse filled with paranoia and disgust for all things outside the realm of your control.  Not great if you were already an introverted control-freak.

One thing I’m sure of at 38 is that I am still not a ‘grown-up’.  What does that even mean?  I have the mortgage payment and the 9 to 5 and some kids and a cat.  I think I’m a socially responsible contributing member of society – does that make me an adult?  I know children who’ve contributed more of themselves, more to society, than I.  Who defines what this is? Or when?  Seriously… I’d rather act my shoe size…

What I’m not sure of is exactly who I am.  What’s my purpose on this crazy ride?  I’m still working that out.  I’m hopefully inspiring my kids to greatness on this grand adventure called life.  With any luck I’ll get at least another 50 years to hatch my grand scheme… whatever that is!

Dang… you thought I was done ranting, eh?? But no, I couldn’t sleep and this is what came out the end of my pen in the middle of the night…

Watch out!  ‘Cause here comes the cliché – Do you ever feel alone in a crowded room?  I do.  Sometimes I feel like the only conscious person in existence.  (Not meant to be arrogant.)  By conscious I mean to say that it seems that occasionally the incessant chatter and goings-ons around me are so mundane, materialistic, media-centric, rooted in the here and I-want-it-now type of machinations that I feel I just can’t relate.  I wonder at times if others ever have the same kinds of thoughts that I have.  Doesn’t anyone ever think there’s a marked lack of philosophy in the world at large?  That democracy has abandoned diplomacy and reason for money?  That fear-mongering media drivel pours from every glaring screen?  That religion has gone extreme making it limiting, vulgar and violent instead of loving and joyful?  Where is the open discourse leading to logical and fair conclusions?  Does anyone consider our pecking order in terms of the Universe?  Will Spaceship Earth soon be visited by our once benevolent overlords only so they can wipe the slate clean of their failed social experiment?  Don’t know where I was going with this…

Then the random thoughts creep in….

Why do you need a license to hunt, fish, drive, marry but not to have kids? 

Is the answer really 42?  What was the question again?

May the keepers of the written word have mercy on my soul because I can’t read my own sleep-deprived, brain-addled scribbling’s – let the transcription be comprehensible not reprehensible… Amen.

Current Mood: *Wink* & Aaarrggghhh!!!!! & Amused & Tired & Weird & Writing

• Verse 4 – No camels
• Verse 5 – No coneys (a translation of the Hebrew Bible word shaphan, in modern English “rock hyrax”)
• Verse 6 – No hares
• Verse 7 – No swine
• Verse 8 - ”Of their flesh shall ye not eat, and their carcass shall ye not touch; they are unclean to you.”
• Verse 10 – “all that have not fins and scales… they shall be an abomination unto you” – so basically No shellfish (shrimp, crab, lobster, etc)
• Verse 13 – No eagles, ossifrage (a kind of vulture) or ospray
• Verse 14 – No vultures or kites (raptors)
• Verse 15 – No ravens
• Verse 16 – No owls, nighthawks, cuckoos, or hawks
• Verse 17 – No little owls, or great owls or cormorants
• Verse 18 – No swans, pelicans, or gier-eagles
• Verse 19 – No storks, herons, lapwings, or bats
• Verse 20 – “All fowls that creep, going upon all four, shall be an abomination unto you.”
• Verse 29 – No weasels, mice or tortoises (I’m guessing turtles would be a no-no as well)
• Verse 30 – No ferrets, chameleons, lizards, snails or moles
• Verse 41 – “And every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earthshall be an abomination; it shall not be eaten.”
• Verse 42 – “Whatsoever goeth upon the belly. and whatsoever goeth upon all four, or whatsoever hath more feet among all creeping things that creep upon the earth, them ye shall not eat, for they are an abomination.” – So basically no snakes, centipedes, millipedes – pretty much no bugs (except locusts which are deemed okay in verse 22).

It goes into detail in verses 30-40ish about how these “unclean” animals are not only to be avoided as food but that if they come in contact with or if their carcasses come in contact with anything then those things are basically contaminated and we are forbidden from them as well.

So you’re probably wondering… why do I care?  Well doesn’t this seem just a little bit over the top?  I know that I’m not going to give up bacon or shrimp to name a few favorites.  I mean, truthfully, I probably wouldn’t have eaten many of these animals anyway but I fail to see the reasoning for them being banned.  Further…. I point this out because of the hypocrisy.  This is the same book of the Bible that homophobic right-wingers like to quote from when they try to defend their anti-gay propaganda. (See Lev 18:22 or 20:13)

So, here is my question for the masses… why should we vehemently follow the “anti-gay” verses but not the ones about naughty tasty animals?  Or how about the versus dictating that “they shall not make baldness upon their head” (Lev 21:05) boy that would put a dent in some fundamentalist hair-dos (or lack therof).  How about Lev  19:28 which says “Ye shall not make any cuttings in your flesh for the dead, nor print any marks upon you” – No tattoos!

I could go on – the entire book of Leviticus is a plethora of hypocrisy and unreasonable rules.  So why oh why??? Why would anyone trying to prove a point use this as ammunition?  I’m bewildered, befuddled… mystified!  (Guess I’m not a)dumb b)gullible c)fundamentalist enough to get it.)

Help celebrate a year of Domestic Partnership Protections in Wisconsin!

Remember folks… it’s not about gay rights — it’s about CIVIL EQUALITY!!

I think I’m gonna go have some bacon-wrapped shrimp while I think about a design for my 6th tattoo…

Current Mood: Aaarrggghhh!!!!! & Doh! & Naughty & On my soapbox

Dick Cheney rolls in his grave

Of course, he’s not actually dead. He just wishes you were

By Mark Morford, SF Gate Columnist

Friday, August 14, 2009

Did you feel that? That sickly sort of rolling wave, that disquieting, genital-shriveling temblor of seething grumpiness that swept through the land and made dogs spasm, trees shudder and giant SUVs spit oil and misfire?

You might’ve missed it. It happened just after Bill Clinton returned from his rather astonishing rescue mission to North Korea, two exhausted, grateful, grinning, tearful young American female journalists in tow, Al Gore standing by with a giant smile and President Obama and much of his administration off in the wings, nodding approvingly, as the entire nation found itself a bit dumbfounded at the calm and rather effortless brand of new, intelligent, humble, hugely effective humanitarian patriotism on display here.

The churning, teeth-grinding rumble of disquiet? It was coming, of course, from Dick Cheney.

(Author note: From here on out, the phrase “Dick Cheney” shall hereby refer not merely to the former vice-president himself, but also to the sour, clenched worldview he so perfectly encapsulated and still so lovingly represents.

Dick Cheney is a lexical wonder. He can be a violent action verb: “Dude I just Dick Cheney’d that squirrel with my F-150.” He is a dark intention: “Let’s pull a Dick Cheney on that queer kid in the locker room.” He is, most of all, a state of being, a mindset, a fixed position of general disgust. “Sorry lady, I can’t save you from this burning building. I’m far too Dick Cheney to give a damn.” Clear? Excellent. Let’s continue).

See, I’m guessing Dick Cheney the man/mindset was none too pleased at the recent turn of news events. I imagine Dick to be right now re-watching the various video clips of the North Korea fiasco, scowling deeply at the silly/surreal photos of Clinton seated next to — and towering over — little Kim Jong Il, the former a natural statesman and the latter trying like hell not to look like some sort of scruffy hunk of semicomatose lint.

Dick is right now hurling his razor-filled oatmeal at the TV screen, wondering just what the hell happened to the true-blooded, trigger-happy, America-as-a-clenched-fist country he worked so hard to devolve and decimate and turn into a giant itchy shotgun. Sending a former president to talk with this pipsqueak terrorist? Giving a nuke-happy dictator a face-saving photo op on the NYT? Dick despises every goddamn liberal hippie second of it.

See, what Dick would’ve done is, Dick would’ve marched right in to Pyongyang — or rather, let some unlucky Marines march over there — with a few nukes, about 50 tons of C4 and a squadron of fighters, and shown that wobbly pipsqueak tyrant the what what.

Oh sure, an insane, intractable pseudo war with a destitute, pathetic country like North Korea would’ve been a disaster in roughly 1,000 ways. Who the hell cares? Dick would’ve made a fortune. He and his hawk buddies would’ve never let America look so weak in the eyes of dismal tyrants the world over as Obama and Clinton just did — no matter how well it worked, no matter that it might lead to renewed talks about shutting down N. Korea’s nuke program, no matter that the two reporters are now home safe and happy, and it didn’t cost the U.S. hundreds of billions, waste soldiers lives and earn us the hate and disrespect of the planet. Dick wants none of that crap.

Former U.N. Ambassador and noted hunk of anger meat John Bolton was quick to parrot the Cheney worldview in a hissing little Op-Ed in the Washington Post, saying the entire rescue reeked of American wimpiness, of dangerous, kowtowing diplomacy, when what we should be doing is saber rattling and making macho threats and maybe bombing a few hundred thousand innocent civilians to death to make some sort of point. Hey, it worked in Iraq! Oh wait.

Dick Cheney reminds us of one thing: this is a perfect moment to reflect. It is a moment to pause, take a look around and offer a giant heap of gratitude and a huge dose of awe for just what it is that Barack Obama hath wrought.

It is a moment, mainly, to compare governing styles, dominant political attitudes, the directions and worldviews of two very, very different Americas: The one Dick so brutally represented and drove like an ice pick so deeply into the national heart, and the one President Obama is now working to unravel, redirect, heal.

The difference is staggering. See, right now the kill-’em-all-and-let-God-sort-’em-out crowd is utterly disgusted that President Obama clearly has zero qualms about taking a notch or five out of bedpost of American machismo bulls–t, about swiping the cancer stick from the mouth of the long dead Marlboro Man and replacing it with something like integrity, calm words of wisdom, tact.

To the Cheney metaverse, this is a disgusting and shameful way to do America’s business. With the North Korea situation, we didn’t come out looking like sweaty, bulbous titans. There was no red-faced screaming, no flag-draped caskets. Most of all, America didn’t get to thump its chest. And if America can’t thump its chest and pull out the biggest gun and let the world know who’s still boss, well, America has no power whatsoever.

Who the hell wants to be known for demonstrating peaceful, effective humanitarianism and calm diplomacy, and saving human lives if it makes us look like a bunch of weak-kneed pansies? Where is the glory? Where’s the firepower? Image is everything. Strut the plumage. Carry the biggest stick. In Cheneyland, sneering intimidation is not only useful, it’s vital. There is nothing else.

Or maybe not. Maybe the Obama Way is already turning out to be far more effective, more subtle and intriguing, and much more in America’s favor, as tyrannical psychopaths like Kim Jong Il are stupefied into compliance by even the pretense of being taken seriously by the Great Satan, and sane world leaders across the globe finally see a country they can deal with intelligently on pressing matters instead of merely joining them at the gun range to blast stuff to hell.

You might say Dick is not pleased. In fact, Dick Cheney — and the entire hawkish, antagonistic worldview he embodies — is downright furious at this country’s dangerous new direction. Which, in its way, just might be the best news I’ve heard all year.

Current Mood: *Wink* & Amused & On my soapbox