But not necessarily in that order, one would hope. Sort of ruins the point of the guest speaker.
But a fine sacrifice for the new garden and I for one am PROUD of the Botanical Garden for admitting they are not too craven to perform the Ultimate Sacrificial Ceremony to the Gods of Fertility to make their gardens grow.
(I wondered what mistletoe was doing growing in a sub-tropical garden)
Nom nom nom nom-- can I bring my pussycats? What a treat for the little Bastlings!!
Merry meat!
Monday, January 31, 2011
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Salutory Hint 2
When you come to realize you are surrounded by scoundrels and thieves, instead of getting mad or afraid, befriend these folk all the closer and study them. Learn from them. You can use their techniques, honorably, of course, for the better good of all. Just like Robin Hood.
Listening to a CD on how to make your life work, how to be successful, loving, healthy, prosperous, etc etc... I suddenly realized: He's teaching me how to be a con man.
After my initial outrage, I started to think. Better to know how these peeps manipulate, learn what they say to make other people believe their dubious words-- or how they say it (loudly and often?) And even practice it yourself, though when I've been successful at such a manipu...persuasion...I feel sick in the heart. Exhausted. Terrified of the exhilaration of success. Because my success depends upon your failure. oh, sure, it's a nice concept--room for everyone at the table. And I don't like to see peeps left out in the cold. But truly, is there enough firewood to go around? Or will we burn it up and be left with nothing and no chance for the human race at all because humans reproduce faster than trees.
So, really. It's better to have the elite few share the precious resources, protect them from the stupid hoards who would squander them, only dole them out as required to keep the peeps pacified: bread and circuses...don't skimp nor begrudge either because that's when rebellion rears its inevitable head. When lack becomes unbearable. But a good song and a reasonably full belly will keep most of us happy enough not to risk losing the small flicker of happiness we are allotted -- while the few elite wolves gorge themselves on the supposedly rare and endangered.
So okay it's no bad thing it's just how life is. We all make choices. We make distinctions. As we age we become more discerning, that's if we're willing to keep learning. Once we know enough we're doomed.
So I'll never really know, not even the heart of my own motivations. I love to believe I'm motivated by good, love for all of us equally. All of us with our different gifts, all needed. And then there's me laughing in the bushes...at my earnest crystal pure loving self. Snickering. It won't let go. It won't give up. You are flesh you shit you touch... Can he stay? Of course he can, and must.
All light? Nothing is seen. Shadow is needed to create a scene, a story, a life. Chiaroscuro shadow and light. Fingerprints and snowflakes. But when the shadow lifts a girl up and out of the world so she misses? Misses... so so very much?
Listening to a CD on how to make your life work, how to be successful, loving, healthy, prosperous, etc etc... I suddenly realized: He's teaching me how to be a con man.
After my initial outrage, I started to think. Better to know how these peeps manipulate, learn what they say to make other people believe their dubious words-- or how they say it (loudly and often?) And even practice it yourself, though when I've been successful at such a manipu...persuasion...I feel sick in the heart. Exhausted. Terrified of the exhilaration of success. Because my success depends upon your failure. oh, sure, it's a nice concept--room for everyone at the table. And I don't like to see peeps left out in the cold. But truly, is there enough firewood to go around? Or will we burn it up and be left with nothing and no chance for the human race at all because humans reproduce faster than trees.
So, really. It's better to have the elite few share the precious resources, protect them from the stupid hoards who would squander them, only dole them out as required to keep the peeps pacified: bread and circuses...don't skimp nor begrudge either because that's when rebellion rears its inevitable head. When lack becomes unbearable. But a good song and a reasonably full belly will keep most of us happy enough not to risk losing the small flicker of happiness we are allotted -- while the few elite wolves gorge themselves on the supposedly rare and endangered.
So okay it's no bad thing it's just how life is. We all make choices. We make distinctions. As we age we become more discerning, that's if we're willing to keep learning. Once we know enough we're doomed.
So I'll never really know, not even the heart of my own motivations. I love to believe I'm motivated by good, love for all of us equally. All of us with our different gifts, all needed. And then there's me laughing in the bushes...at my earnest crystal pure loving self. Snickering. It won't let go. It won't give up. You are flesh you shit you touch... Can he stay? Of course he can, and must.
All light? Nothing is seen. Shadow is needed to create a scene, a story, a life. Chiaroscuro shadow and light. Fingerprints and snowflakes. But when the shadow lifts a girl up and out of the world so she misses? Misses... so so very much?
Take My Advice: I'm Not Using It: Salutory Hint 1
Take My Advice: I'm Not Using It: Salutory Hint 1: "There is nothing so important it cannot be blown off when the creative urge strikes. There will never again be that waft of night-blooming j..."
Friday, January 21, 2011
Now Add Lupus to the Mix and give it a good stir?
Just read an article about lupus. My MD says I have symptoms of Lupus but not enough for clear diagnosis (all tests aren't in yet, however). I'm like this auto-immune stew roiling and mucking and making me feel like I'm wearing a full set of medieval armor just trying to get up out of bed. I don't like to complain because I believe in the power of the mind to influence your physical health, but peeps are wanting me to come out and play and I just hate having to keep saying no, or saying yes and having thorns in my knees and feet and having to stop and collapse in a chair or use my walker or yadda yadda yadda...
I wasn't allowed to complain AT ALL during my marriage. My husband (also disabled) told me he was sick of hearing it. So no moans, groans, or whimpers. One day after I put his TED stockings (tight tight hard to put on) on his legs I sat down on the opposite side of the bed and silently cried. Couldn't help it. He noticed, "What are you crying for"?
"Because I'm in pain, dummy. Now how would you like your eggs?"
It's hard for me to grasp the concept that I am FREE and while I can't afford to have people clean my house regularly like I did or bathe and dress me (not absolutely necessary, but a little assistance would cut my daily wash/groom by about 5 hours or so) It's not easy brushing your teeth in a full set of armor. Or like the Tin Man.
I think Tracy Chapman wrote a song about the Tin Man I used to love.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HBZvSvpUX58
I wasn't allowed to complain AT ALL during my marriage. My husband (also disabled) told me he was sick of hearing it. So no moans, groans, or whimpers. One day after I put his TED stockings (tight tight hard to put on) on his legs I sat down on the opposite side of the bed and silently cried. Couldn't help it. He noticed, "What are you crying for"?
"Because I'm in pain, dummy. Now how would you like your eggs?"
It's hard for me to grasp the concept that I am FREE and while I can't afford to have people clean my house regularly like I did or bathe and dress me (not absolutely necessary, but a little assistance would cut my daily wash/groom by about 5 hours or so) It's not easy brushing your teeth in a full set of armor. Or like the Tin Man.
I think Tracy Chapman wrote a song about the Tin Man I used to love.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HBZvSvpUX58
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Salutory Hint 1
There is nothing so important it cannot be blown off when the creative urge strikes. There will never again be that waft of night-blooming jasmine on that breeze the exact temperature of your hot skin air moving so softly and wet it grabs hold of you like clay on a potter's wheel tight, embraced.
Oh, where was I? Yes, introducing you to my new blog. I've found in my years working as a psychiatric RN, plus even more years in therapy or, as my family so amusingly refers to them "loony bins".
Yes, I've spent considerable time on both sides of the desk. As have more health care professionals than you might care to think about. I suppose it's not too smart for me to publicly admit I play both sides of the fence. But because I'm permanently disabled per the generous state of Florida (and it only took them six years to make that decision. If I were not fortunate enough to be married at the time and supported (grudgingly) by my (now) ex pose (now THAT is a typo--or a Freudian slip I will let STET) I meant by my own ex souse (ZZZOMG--I swear to you on my honor I did NOT mean to typo again, but holy cannolli--another Freudian typo to let STET, and my poor abused ex SPOUSE (phew!)
I tend to wander down odd tangents (to wander--to wanda--ToWANDA!!) Anyone remember that from Fried Green Tomatoes? (I think) There's a little town in northern Pennsylvania called Towanda. Not far from where I was born, grew up, and lived for 20 some years. I suppose I was never supposed to leave there, because I had (still have, probably), a plot of ground for my carcass. Or maybe I'm mis-remembering;
Where I come from is a hard coal (Anthracite) region. When I was growing up it was like a time warp, like 30 years behind the times. We are a tough people, but the problem with hardness is the harder something gets, generally, the more brittle it becomes. I've seen our type of people become so hard they crack, just crack up one day--oh, I guess that was me.
Ok, then, this is a journal-sort about change. The changes I had to go through to make it past the brittle stage and onto...well, that's what I'm discovering. There's a core of something and its solid, tough but not fragile
Good nite afore I fall to sleep with laptop in lap, then wake up forgetting, and spill life's work on hardwood floor...nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnv vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv
oops too late, did drift off there; no harm done; Macbook intack. Thank Bast. Bast looks out for little kittens and fools...and I rest safely in her warm paws;
meow
Oh, where was I? Yes, introducing you to my new blog. I've found in my years working as a psychiatric RN, plus even more years in therapy or, as my family so amusingly refers to them "loony bins".
Yes, I've spent considerable time on both sides of the desk. As have more health care professionals than you might care to think about. I suppose it's not too smart for me to publicly admit I play both sides of the fence. But because I'm permanently disabled per the generous state of Florida (and it only took them six years to make that decision. If I were not fortunate enough to be married at the time and supported (grudgingly) by my (now) ex pose (now THAT is a typo--or a Freudian slip I will let STET) I meant by my own ex souse (ZZZOMG--I swear to you on my honor I did NOT mean to typo again, but holy cannolli--another Freudian typo to let STET, and my poor abused ex SPOUSE (phew!)
I tend to wander down odd tangents (to wander--to wanda--ToWANDA!!) Anyone remember that from Fried Green Tomatoes? (I think) There's a little town in northern Pennsylvania called Towanda. Not far from where I was born, grew up, and lived for 20 some years. I suppose I was never supposed to leave there, because I had (still have, probably), a plot of ground for my carcass. Or maybe I'm mis-remembering;
Where I come from is a hard coal (Anthracite) region. When I was growing up it was like a time warp, like 30 years behind the times. We are a tough people, but the problem with hardness is the harder something gets, generally, the more brittle it becomes. I've seen our type of people become so hard they crack, just crack up one day--oh, I guess that was me.
Ok, then, this is a journal-sort about change. The changes I had to go through to make it past the brittle stage and onto...well, that's what I'm discovering. There's a core of something and its solid, tough but not fragile
Good nite afore I fall to sleep with laptop in lap, then wake up forgetting, and spill life's work on hardwood floor...nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnv vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv
oops too late, did drift off there; no harm done; Macbook intack. Thank Bast. Bast looks out for little kittens and fools...and I rest safely in her warm paws;
meow
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