Giving in to the Temptation of Mediocrity

definition

~ mediocre ~

of no exceptional quality or ability

conventional, insignificant, mainstream, ordinary, pedestrian, uninspired, vanilla

Screw You! I'm Saying Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas, one and all! I said, “MERRY CHRISTMAS!” Now, who is offended? You? No? How about you? You aren't either? What? No atheists or Jews out there to correct my blatant display of Christianity? No? Well, someone out there HAS to be offended. I don't know who you are but to that person I say, "Screw you, I'm saying Merry Christmas!"

I can remember a time when the only person allowed to claim victimhood and martyrdom at Christmas was Mom but, over the last few years, it has become a fad, a new Holiday Tradition, to create a defiant victim persona around the inexplicably perceived notion that there is a kabbal working toward one goal: to suppress one's freedom to offer what translates to no more than “Have a nice day.”

“Happy Holidays” or “Season's Greetings” and the sentiment is the same: It is my desire that you have some fun and nothing shitty happens to you during this most joyous time of year.
Add “Happy New Year” and you have the next 12 months covered as well.

How ironic that during the one month of the year when the objective is supposedly "peace on earth" and "goodwill toward men" social media platforms are splattered  with selfish and petulant memes smack talking to some phantom aggressor.

“Merry Christmas” is not a magical incantation. It's no more or less powerful than “Happy Holidays” or “Season's Greetings” and the sentiment is the same: It is my desire that you have some fun and nothing shitty happens to you during this most joyous time of year. 
Add “Happy New Year” and you have the next 12 months covered as well.
It's Merry Christmas – Not Happy Holidays.
I'm sorry that I'm not sorry about saying Merry Christmas instead of Happy Holidays. Deal with it.
And the inexplicable, Be Patriotic! Say Merry Christmas!

 

 

This one is the most telling of all because it unapologetically and without arguement reveals that your niceties aren't meant to mean anything that even remotely resembles good will. When you wish me a Merry Christmas are you being sincere about ME having a real nice day or are you just saying it to prove a point because with that attitude, sincerity is the last thing I'm feeling. You are the one turning “Merry Christmas” into something ugly. You just sucked any morsel of Christian kindness out of the words and replaced it with smugness. Good job!

If your spiritual or philosophical intent goes beyond this simple bit of optimistic pleasantry, you probably should come up with a whole new phrase because that is all pretty much everyone you say it to is going to take from it - especially strangers.

How ironic that during the one month of the year when the objective is supposedly "peace on earth" and "goodwill toward men" social media platforms are splatteredith selfish and petulant memes smack talking to some phantom aggressor.

It's Merry Christmas – Not Happy Holidays.
I'm sorry that I'm not sorry about saying Merry Christmas instead of Happy Holidays. Deal with it.
And the inexplicable, Be Patriotic! Say Merry Christmas.

This one is the most telling of all because it unapologetically and without arguement reveals that your niceties aren't meant to mean anything that even remotely resembles good will. When you wish me a Merry Christmas are you being sincere about ME having a real nice day or are you just saying it to prove a point because with that attitude, sincerity is the last thing I'm feeling. You are the one turning “Merry Christmas” into something ugly. You just sucked any morsel of Christian kindness out of the words and replaced it with smugness. Good job!

I don't even want to get into the historical use of the phrase or how the word “holiday” literally translates into HOLY DAY and that a HOLY DAY is a day when a religious festival or holiday is observed, because you can't be reasonable with some people. They will put their fingers in their ears and say, “Fah la la la la” because their need to be persecuted surpasses everything.

 

 

New Year - New Blog - New Age

Back in the way back - I had a blog on Vox. And it was fun. Vox had an entertaining community vibe going on and many of the bloggers were creative and smart and hilarious!

Then somewhere in the middle of 2010 Vox decided to close up shop. The inhabitants of Vox lost their virtual town and without much fanfare the fun was over.

I exported my blog here and decided that the old blog needed to be cleaned up a bit but never felt inspired or obligated enough to jump on the project. If I don't start now I never will.

How Honesty and Karma work...

Leave it to honesty and karma meeting in a dark alley and plotting a way to kick me in my girl balls.

My last Vox entry concerned dreams I have been having about my mother. It took me a long time to be able to put those words together, say them out loud and wait for the fall out. Oddly enough, no one called me a horrible person for not being able to control my dreams - no one commented at all through Vox. Which in a way was a relief because I already feel bad enough.

Tuesday morning I got a call from my mother's good friend, Inez. Inez has a very thick accent but I had no problem understanding that she was following an ambulance to the hospital, my mother had a stroke sometime during the night and was being transported.
I don't remember the exact conversation but I understood that Mom was talking, her speech was slurred, and that no one could tell how long she had been half on the bed and half off. She couldn't get to the phone - it was my sister in Tennessee that alerted Inez when Mom didn't answer either of her phones.

I had talked to mom the day before for about 2 hours. She was telling me that she felt really good. REALLY GOOD! That the week before she had not felt as good, she lost a little weight because she was nauseated and wasn't eating much and that she was having a lot of gas and under the rib pain. We talked about gall bladder stuff and how when I have problems with the gall bladder I burp with almost every breath. We talked about herbs for the liver and gall bladder and a bunch of other stuff - it was a fine conversation. She sounded really upbeat. I finally had to tell her that I had to get off the phone because I wanted to cut up a fresh pineapple and I needed both hands.

I can't remember if I brushed my teeth this morning. The phone has been ringing so much. The phone woke me up this morning and I have been walking around the house in a sweater I slept in and underwear. My legs are cold. Seems like every time I think, "I should put on some pants" or "I should hop in the shower", the phone rings or I get an email I should answer.

My mom is paralyzed on the left side. She was on a feeding tube - now she isn't. She passed the swallow test and she wants some real food. She sat in a chair for awhile yesterday. She answered the hospital room phone all by herself when I called today. She is going to need acute therapy for a long time. She told the therapist that there was nothing "cute" about it. She also told an orderly to "cover her assets" when she realized her butt was mooning the world. She is cracking wise and ready to "blow this joint". But she can't. She can't walk. We don't know if she ever will. She wants to go home. We don't know when or if at all.

I feel horrible. I live in British Columbia and she lives in Arkansas. My girl balls hurt and I need to brush my teeth.

I dream of My Mother

This entry isn't about any particular dream about my mother - just most of them.
First of all, I want to make it clear that I have no desire to hurt my mother. I have put up with her my entire life and I love her. When I hear a voice in my head telling me I can't achieve or succeed - it is always her voice I hear. Her constant ridicule of myself (and others) shaped me into the criticizing, sarcastic, glass half empty kind of person that I am trying not to be today, and yet I still love her and try to do right by her. So when I recall these dreams, please remember they are just dreams of frustration and possibly enlightenment. But I love her...

Since the death of my father, most dreams of my mother consist of her talking nonstop and me hitting her square in the face or strangling her while screaming, "JUST SHUT UP!"

In some of these dreams, my anger comes out of no where. In others, my mother is badgering me about something and I just go nuts on her.

The first time I had one of these dreams - probably about 3 years ago - I was so ashamed. I hated myself for the day. I wanted to talk about it but who are you going to tell that you dream about pounding your fist against the side of your elderly mother's head? I mean, seriously? There were a few times during the day that I would approach my husband then when I thought about saying the words out loud I just couldn't even speak them. I couldn't even write it in my journal - a place for your dreams. Was I going to tell my mom?
"Hey, Mom...how's it going?"
"Fine, and you?"
"Oh, same as usual. I had the weirdest dream last night. You were talking about something and I kept going 'shh! shh!' and you wouldn't shut up so I just hauled off and smacked you one...when that didn't work I shook you until your head lolled back and forth..."
It's not much easier to blog about, for that matter.

I have had these dreams many times. Enough times to know that this a reoccurring theme. I had one a few days ago and I am still unsettled by it. They haunt me for days.
I don't know how many I had before I finally broke down and told the husband. I was hoping that maybe by recalling it out loud something would go PING and I would put together why I was so violent in my dreams. He sort of made the "ooooh!" sound and face when I told him - and nothing went PING.

Tonight I was talking to my oldest sister. We were comparing notes about our childhoods. There is a massive age gap between us and we have never been close. The last time I talked to her was when my dad died. She told me a few things tonight that I didn't know, some things that I suspected and other things that sort of filled in some gaps about my dad, mom and family. We both decided that after all these years of thinking our dad was the stingy one - we were wrong. And we laughed about it.

Somehow we started talking about dreams and she said that she had a dream about dad awhile back and that he was stooped over a sewing machine sewing her a pair of bell bottoms. She thought this was funny because she never wore bell bottoms - even when they were popular. She said he was singing while he sewed. He did know how to sew - so there was nothing mysterious about that part. She said she walked out of the room into another and I was there. She said to me something about Dad being in the other room sewing and singing - but that he was dead. And I said that I knew this.

I told her that I had had some similar dreams - that I always seem to know he is dead in my dreams - then I just blurted out, "I dream about mom sometimes and...ugh, I hate to say it out loud...I always end up hitting or shaking her."
I think I was hoping she would say, "WOW! Me too!"
She didn't. She said she never dreamed about mom.

I have a few ideas why these dreams started after my dad died. I think it is mostly because without my father's presence I can see who my mother really is. The mean, the thoughtless and the petty...the true colors. Maybe I am angry for all the years I fell for my mother's vilifying of my father and how she tried every way possible to destroy any relationship he could have had with his children. Her jealousy was not going to allow us to know him as anything more than the monster she married and stayed with because of us. She did not want us to like him. Which was odd, because when it came down to it - she didn't really want us in the first place. She made that clear on several occasions and her early indoctrination against having children is a voice that has played heavy in my head over the years. Now, I am sort of long in the tooth to be planning a family...
Maybe my subconscious just can't hold it all in anymore.

...Like something from the X-files

I can't even flower this up. It's weird and it has me creeped out.

Over the summer the husband and I went to Kelowna and stayed at a big hotel. Not wanting to spend every waking hour eating or drinking or gambling in the casino, I decided to get my first ever spa facial. When I say first ever SPA facial, what I mean is my first ever professionally applied facial. Sure, I have been using mud masks and scrubs and toners and the like since I was in my teens - I have just never surrendered myself to a complete stranger to do to my face what I have done successfully for years. I don't really like stuff like this, mainly because I think the whole idea that we need to be pampered (a word I HATE) by being treated like royalty or that applying seaweed paste from my neck to the crack of my ass some how equals indulgence...ugh, it is just stupid. Anyway, I was going to see if it really was stupid or if it was as beneficial as the likes of Oprah and most makeover shows proclaim. I decided while I was there I would get my eyebrows shaped for the first time ever too. I was really stepping out of my comfort zone on this one.

So, I had seaweed goop on my back and a series of about 12 different cleaners, toners, masks and fudge-knows-what applied to my face over a 45 minute time period. When I left my face felt like sealskin looks.

About 2 days later my skin began to revolt. I had a series of small bumps come and go and one particularly large lump just between my right cheekbone and upper lip that seemed to be the queen zit.

Since having this professional treatment I have been fighting with this one stubborn pimple/cyst/thing. Note I said I had this treatment in the SUMMER. My skin was fine before all the ex-foliating and deep pore cleansing. My skin is one of the least troublesome of my features. Whatever was done was the equivalent pulling out a Ouija board during a nice, but boring, slumber party. A demon was unleashed that day.

So, this thing started as a hard knot under the skin then (after some prodding on my part) relieved itself of some weird white thick stuff, then turned into what looked like a flat cigarette burn then healed up and just when I thought it was over - it would start up all over again.

I rubbed onion on it (really good if you have a break out by the way), pimple lotions, manuka honey, peroxide, alcohol, hot compresses...just about everything. A friend's wife suggested Cetephil wash (great stuff, by the way and I recommend it to anyone with eczema). The skin around it would heal quickly, but there was something beneath the skin that was keeping this thing...alive.

Over Christmas I made the decision to leave it alone, let the skin heal over and then go to the doctor. This was not a regular old pimple and I was waving the flag of surrender. The spa-induced growth had won. I covered it in polysporin and a bandage...even wearing the bandage in public so as not to get germs and swine flu on it. I refrained from poking it - even though it was itching something fierce and burning deep into my cheek. It was feeling harder - like something was deep under the skin. Tingling and itching and burning and.

So, I left it alone...

Four nights ago I lost my mind and went at it with a sewing needle and a pair of eyebrow tweezers. After several attempts to grab a hard white thing the half size of a pinhead that was slightly visible just below the surface, I finally grasped it and slowly and gently pulled. What happened after that I should have documented on film because it was like something out of the X-files.

I slowly pulled and wiggled what looked like a grain of rice out of my face. It was giving resistance for it was bigger than the hole I was pulling it through. When I finally got to the end, where it was attached, I didn't know what to do. This thing was anchored in and not budging. Should I yank real hard? Leave it sticking out of my face and go to the emergency room? WHAT THE HELL IS THAT THING?

I wiggled it gently until it came loose. Now I had a noticeable hole in my face. I immediately dripped some peroxide in the hole. It fizzed minimally, to my surprise.

I clenched the alien object in the tweezers and looked at it then the hole in my face, then at the object, then at the hole...then I yelled down the stairs, "Hey, would you come here and look at what I just pulled out of my face?"

So there it was. A rock hard alien object about the size of a small grain of rice but shaped more like a sesame seed.

"What do you think that is?"

"Uhhhh, wow, I have no idea."

"Looks like rice, or a sesame seed or the egg sac from some kind of bug."

Silence.

"Ok, I'm going to give the hole one good push to see if anything is in there...if worms or bugs or an alien head pops out be sure to catch me because I am sure as shit going to faint."

"Ewwwhhhhw!"

 

2009 turns into 2010

I don't really like going out for New Years. I don't mind a house party if there is an invite - but in general I have become intolerant of drunks and screaming girls. For some reason New Years Eve is a celebratory event for lightweight drinkers and girls who run in giggling, shrieking packs. BLAH!

I thought we should try to do SOMETHING for New Years - so we decided to see a movie then find some food. We got to the Scotia Bank Theatre in plenty of time - but everyone else got there earlier so we were forced to sit on the second row from the screen. I lasted about 30 minutes into Sherlock Holmes before my stomach started to churn. It's probably a good thing that I forgot my glasses. I'm not sure if a sharper image would have kept me from wanting to projectile vomit onto the screen. I was close enough to hit it without much effort. Luckily, after that explanation to the box office attendant, we were able to get our money refunded.

We went next door to Pacifico Pizza - and after a tall glass of Sprite I was up for some good pizza. And it was Great pizza!

The buses were running for free last night, and if I had known that sooner I would have arranged to just ride the bus all over Vancouver until midnight (perhaps stopping at a few bars along the way or carrying a flask just to add to the festivity of the evening). Well, there is always next year.

We stopped at Earl's for some drinks and made it home way before midnight.

Nothing epic, but at least we got out of the house.

Deck the Halls, my Bitches!

It might surprise you, dear readers, to know that I rarely find joy in anything. Disappointment builds character and I am brimming with character. I am so used to hitting snags and being turned down and cold cocked with "NO" that some days I don't even try. I just wait for sleep and dread waking up. Today is not one of those days, my friends!

Jingle Bells

When I went home to Arkansas in September, one of my goals was to get my mother's copy of Christmas with the Mexicali Brass and take it back to Canada to do a phono to cd burn. Sure, it was scratchy and skippy and possibly unplayable - but I had to have that record. So, I ask mom and she points to the album sorter. You know the kind. Looks like it's made of clothes hanger wire. You slip a single album in each slot. I furiously pulled each album up looking for the Mexicali Brass and when I found it I squealed! Then I mutter, "sonofabitch." All album cover, no album. Mom says it's in there somewhere. Yeah, but where?

Today I was feeling kind of festive - getting out the wreath and stockings and all. I started thinking about that Mexicali Brass record and how much I would like to listen to it while I decorate or make cookies - just like when I was little. My mom would hit the eggnog and before too long we were dancing in the kitchen to mariachi-fied Christmas songs. Long story short - iTunes has the whole album and it is clean and remastered and now it IS MINE!!! I think I felt a little joy today. When you are used to hitting snags and being turned down and cold cocked with "NO" as much as I am - a little "yes!" goes a long way.

 

03 The First Noel

The Mexicali Brass

 

08 Deck the Halls

The Mexicali Brass

 

Do doctors really know ANYTHING?

I want to believe in doctors, but my past experience makes it very hard to trust anything any of them have to say.
Yesterday I found myself in the walk in clinic up the street to get a refill on some meds. While I was in there I mentioned to the doctor that I had a severe pain running down my legs after walking a few blocks. I stood up, pulled up the leg of my jeans and ran my finger down the outer side of my leg - between the knee and ankle. I specified that the pain is from here (about an inch below by knee cap) to here (just about my ankle bone). I told her that it starts out as a slight burn, but if I continue to walk the burn becomes quite intense and I tend to lose the feeling in my feet. If I rest, the pain subsides (after about 5 minutes) but resumes when I start walking again. I also told her that it was quite the problem since I walk in Vancouver, I do not drive. Most stores I frequent are within walking distance. The pain is excrutiating and it keeps me from being as mobile as I would like.

I told her I bought some shoe inserts and her response was, "and they work?"
If they worked I wouldn't be telling you about the pain, now would I?

I said that it doesn't matter what shoes I wear but I do not have this pain when I ride my stationary bike...only walking.
I also told her that I didn't notice it so much in the past, but that might be because in Arkansas I didn't do as much long distance walking, like I do in Vancouver or when we are on vacation and out sightseeing.

So after telling her all of that here is what she said.
"You have a pinched nerve in your spine. You need X-rays."
I said, "Really, you think that's what it is?"
She says, "Well, the other thing it could be is PAD - but you don't want that. People with diabeties and other chronic illnesses have that. You aren't there."
"Ok. The pain doesn't run up my hip or thigh...just my lower leg."

"How long have you had this problem? Did you have it in the States too?"
"Yes, but it was not as noticiable because it only happens when I am in a situation where I find myself walking a lot."
I was pretty sure I had made this point already but I found myself going through it again, in a more illustrative way. "You see, in Arkansas I was a driver. I didn't walk to the store or anywhere to get to places. Walking the Target parking lot then strolling the aisles isn't the same kind of walking that I do now. I had a very bad episode in Philidelphia several years ago while sightseeing and doing a lot of walking, but I chalked that up to legs not used to walking great distances. I thought it was weak muscles...but my legs should be used to walking by now. I shouldn't hurt this bad. My feet shouldn't go numb after walking 2 blocks."

"So, here is what I want you to do - change your shoes. Don't wear the shoes you are wearing."
I stopped her. I thought I had already gone over this.
"It doesn't matter what shoes I wear. I have Converse sneakers, leather boots, track shoes, Reeboks, slip ons...it doesn't matter what shoe I have on - and I don't wear heels so that is not an issue either."
Didn't I just show you the brand new arch support I put in the shoe???
"Well, I don't think it's anything too serious."
"But I can't walk."

She took a breath. "Hmmm, well it looks like you haven't had a physical in a while...we should schedule you for a complete physical."
Nice way to change the subject.

So a few minutes later I found myself getting 8 spinal Xrays. SIX maybe but...I am not sure why I had to get EIGHT GOD DAMNED X-RAYS. Seems excessive.

I need to find another doctor.

Birthers, Tea Baggers and all you other tin foil hat wearing loons

Birthers, Tea Baggers and all you other loons...I can not believe so many people are willing to make fools of themselves in public and for what? Were you promised a klondike bar or something?

What else are you willing to do in order to please your corporate masters? Shout down people, burn effigies, bully and harass, be ignorant for the sake of being ignorant? Makes me wonder what you good citizens are like at home. Do you react irrationally on a regular basis? Are you really this pig headed or are you feigning ignorance just to be contrary? Children will do that, you know.

Perhaps the reason why those puppet masters of yours want you to disrupt and step on the rights of others is because they don't want you actually hearing anything that might be considered detrimental to their fiscal health. Hell, most of you don't even know the basics like where your Medicare/Medicaid comes from! I know it's hard to admit when you are wrong, but you don't have to be wrong and stupid. Wrong and stupid is no way to live your life...

Remember how disappointed Ralphie was when he got his Little Orphan Annie decoder ring only to find out it was nothing more than a marketing tool for Ovaltine? Are you seeing similarities yet? No?

The Last Poem I ever Wrote

I used to write poetry - well, what I called poetry - all the time.
Then I got into college and took writing courses and realized that I pretty much sucked at poetry. My prose were just slightly better and my scripts were a little above the prose - but all in all I was not going to make a living with words.
I started this poem in the mid 80's. My father had just been diagnosed with lung cancer and death was sort of hanging around the house. He recovered fully after a chunk of lung was removed. The lung cancer never came back, although later in life he dealt with prostate cancer. But that didn't kill him either.

The original poem was a lament about how I didn't really know my father - even though he was right there in the house and we passed each other several times a day. Who was this guy and If he should die on that operating table, what would we have left to represent him? An old car, a chipped ashtray, a couple of Sheafer's six packs in the shed and a garden that neither my mother or myself gave a care about until the squash was ripe...
It has always been hard for me to imagine my father as a little boy, running and playing and just going wild. His upbringing was harsh, I'm not sure how much time he had for play. Having said that, my father could be one childish SOB. Arguing with him was like arguing with an 8 year old.

The final draft of this poem has pretty much nothing to do with my father. It's a case of a piece of art starting out one way and ending up something completely different. As faulty as this poem may be from a professional's view - it is the best poem I have ever written. For me, this is as good as it gets, folks.

The Boys I Watch

written in mid 80’s - finished 1997 edited 4/29/98

The boys I watch are truly boys
Shirtless
Shoeless
Over stone beaded driveways
And August scorched grass ways
Running
Tangling up the willow tree branches
Linking up fists
Kicking up dust
With black bottomed feet.

Thirty four shades of summer have passed me
Always at odds with the seasonal shift
Watching the boys I feel so archaic
Presence of mind has replaced the gift
of scurry and scramble without an intention
without the worry of getting things done
But I have done nothing to balance this greatness
in my thirty four years of snowfall and sun.

Feeling the panic brought on by September
Sensing the newness the air of death brings
It seems even now the memory aches me
Concerns of a lunch box and a desk for my things
Beyond this I moved
importance accomplished
Yet I scurry and scramble as if running wild
Having done nothing to balance this greatness
or surpass the glory of being a child.

The boys have gone savage in the trees
Capturing twilight in dawn tinted lungs
Shrieking
Shouting
Frantic for daylight
As if eating the dusk might make them become
Something
Less than human
Before
Voices call from behind rusty screen doors
And beckon
Come in from the night.

 

Things that irritate me about people #1

If you know me, you know that I am somewhat of a misanthrope. People do things that irritate me, and I have found it is better to seclude myself than run the risk of getting punched in the nose for conveying my irritation in the only way I know how: Sarcasm.

You have to love technology, though...because now I can crab off on all sorts of things from the security of my computer room. With pictures!

Welcome to the first, and probably not last, edition of

THINGS THAT IRRITATE ME ABOUT PEOPLE

For my first installment I would like to discuss dogs.
I am not a dog person, I like cats. Just because I really like cats and I am so-so on dogs, doesn't mean I approve of mistreating them or treating them like an accessory.

A few weeks ago we had a Greek Fest in the neighbourhood. This year the Greek Fest was really packed, probably the most crowded I have seen in the last 4 years. Lots of people had dogs with them and if I hadn't of been expecting to use my hands to hold a Gyro I would have petted as many as I could. You know, the Greek Fest is all about the food no matter how many booths on Hellenic Culture and History they have set up.

I don't mind it when people bring well behaved animals to events of this nature as long as the dogs aren't in the way or in danger of getting crushed under the feet of dancing Greeks. I would rather see people bring pets with them than a kid in stroller the size of a Hummer...but that's another rant entirely.

Sometimes at these events people dress up the dog to fit the event, which is always good for a laugh especially if it is a Pride Parade.

On the way home we came across this:

 

Bad Owner

This poor pup was tied so close to this tree he could barely move. I have no idea where his owner was or how long the dog was supposed to stand there like this, and honestly I don't care. I don't care if the owner was sitting at the bar on the other side of the side walk or at the curb just off camera and to the right. I think this picture does all the talking and I don't need to go on and on about it.

This kind of thing just irritates me about people.

Me and Jenifer - 22 years ago

Tonight I was looking for a tape. A specific cassette tape from a band called Metro Waste. Metro Waste was an early, southern region punk band. I told a friend that I had a Metro Waste demo. I knew it was somewhere in the house and I told him if I found it and it was in decent condition - I would make him a copy. Nostalgia!

I didn't find that tape, though. What I found was an empty tape case with a business card for Metro Waste tucked inside. I am pretty sure that tape is around here somewhere...I will keep looking.

Another tape I found was an old and dusty Sony. One side was printed with B-52's and the other side with Talking Heads. I was about to toss this in the waste bin when something inside of me said, 'listen to it first! Don't Worry might be on that tape!'
So I did.
The side that was labeled B-52's was NOT the B-52's. It took me a few seconds to place the two chirping, somewhat southern accented, female voices - it was Jenifer and myself laughing and hooting about something going on in a parking lot. I rewound the tape and started it from the beginning and soon realized it was a documentation of a time Jenifer and I had that involved going to a Tav Falco show at the SOB, going to the flea market at Barton Coliseum, stopping by Jef Duncan's house and going to the coin laundry. The whole tape was for the benefit of our friend Susan, who we missed enough to pretend that the tape player was actually her. I guess it was our intention to include Susan in our good times one way or the other. I do not remember making this tape and I have no idea if we ever made a copy and actually sent it to Susan.

The making of this tape may be blurry but I very much remember bleaching my hair blonde - not even bothering to take in to account that I was in a play that was opening soon. I lament to 'Susan the tape recorder' that "I wanted to be blonde but my hair had a different plan entirely". The dye job was indeed horrible, it was more a new born yellow chick color than a specific blonde. I vaguely remember going to hear Tav Falco and visiting the flea market. I talk about seeing an old boyfriend at the TF show and Jenifer and I discuss what we would have liked to have done with the idiot slam dancers who always seemed to screw up the best dance songs. We are laughing and joking and hearing it made me laugh out loud because, hell, we are funny as shit. We sound like we only know how to have a good time.

I sat on the edge of the bed and listened. I played some guitar for Susan then muttered something about getting a job. "Hey, Susan! It is about 36 degrees outside. Every one is going to hear Jubilee Dive, but I think I am going to stay home because the weather looks bad. It is Januarrrrryyyyy 27th...1987".

1987...When the only thing I knew was how to have a good time.

 

The Greatest Silence

The Greatest Silence

http://thegreatestsilence.org/

Since 1998 a brutal war has been raging in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC). Over 4 million people have died. And there are the uncountable casualties: the many tens of thousands of women and girls who have been systematically kidnapped, raped, mutilated and tortured by soldiers from both foreign militias and the Congolese army.

I want to say something about this film - but I can't. All I can say is that you should watch it. Man, woman, teenager...everyone should be made to watch this film. If it doesn't burn a hole in you, make you think, make you cry...then I don't know from what kind of stuff you are made. If you can shrug this one off...seriously...you may be the biggest douche bag in the world.

I dream of Camera Mart

It was about time I had my re-occurring Camera Mart dream.
Back Story: I worked at Camera Mart for 5 or 6 years in the late 80's and early 90's. I loved it at first then grew to hate it. I still dream about working there after all this time. I have never dreamed about the place and not known in the dream that I didn't really work there anymore or that I have been away for many years and I am just coming back for a quick visit. I always have a sense of "this is not real, but let's see where it goes."

The Dream
As usual, I am wandering around the store trying to find something to do. I see Mike (who in real life has been deceased for about 3 years or more). We talk but I can't remember what about. I wish I could. Talking to dead people in my dreams seems like it could be important.
He looks really thin, and I make a mental note of this. He is dressed in his usual pocket front t-shirt, 70's style basketball shorts (the really short and tight ones with the piping) and sneakers. Usually the dreams look very blue shadowed, this time it was just sort of murky and lowly saturated.
The dream was pretty boring, other than there seemed to be a problem with some new workers...and even though the other people in the store were really bothered by this, I didn't seem to care. This pissed off the people who were complaining about the new workers. I also noticed there weren't any cameras or film processing equipment in the store, so I have no idea what everyone was doing there.
At one point Nancy (the other owner) told me to go outside and clean up the parking lot. Sure, Nance! Anything to get the hell out of that store.

Same Sex Marriage...

and why you are an idiot if you are against it.
Well, not really an idiot - but maybe you aren't seeing the big picture.

Awhile back I asked (on my facebook page) for someone to explain to me the hub bub over same sex marriage. I honestly do not understand the reasons given against it - probably as much as those against it do not get the reasons to be for it. Like with anything, I figure if I could get ONE really good reason why I should be against it, that might be enough to at least make me a fence sitter. You know, give me something to ponder. So far...nothing.
I asked but what I got was a bunch of straight people (I guess) debating about stupid people and where they live.

So again...what is all the hub bub?
Everyone who is against has one or more reasons from "it's yucky" to "it ruins the sanctity of marriage" to "GOD SAID NO!" But I want the best, most logical reason.

IT'S YUKKY

Well, folks, sex is yukky. It's a host of grossness and body parts...and people like it for the most part. So grow up and get over the squeamishness you have for same sex sex, because whatever the hell it is you do ain't all that pretty either.

Yeah, yeah, yeah...you can throw God talk at me but really, none of that matters. You are going to have to come up with a real reason. A real reason that effects you. There's a lot of wacky shit in the Bible that we pretty much walk around as we avert our eyes. God doesn't like you eating shrimp, but I bet you do. And if you don't for religious reasons - mazzletov! If you are going to throw scripture at me, be prepared to argue the traditional marriage that allowed for concubines and multiple wives (not multiple husbands, mind you!) and sister marrying and the like. Look, if you can not admit that there is a lot of ridiculous stuff in the Bible  - then you are not ready to discuss. Look, in those days a raped woman would get stoned to death. Yes, the woman who was RAPED was stoned because her virginity was THAT sacred to a man's ego! Did you get that? The BIBLE condoned KILLING a woman who had been RAPED. The closest thing we have to that now is a raped woman being denied some sort of health care procedure because the rape is considered a pre-existing condition or some such. Modern day stoning.
It was ok for the rapist to marry the woman, saving her from death. How gallant.

So in order to convince me same sex marriage is wrong - you are going to have to look beyond that Bible and the perversions it allowed. Be honest with yourself. You are going to have to try and understand sexuality and sexual preference and how all of that works. Tough job because there is a lot to learn. And it's not black and white. This might be something you never gave a second thought about because you already thought you knew it all.  Somewhere along the line you were told that homosexuality was wrong and that you shouldn't be a homosexual. And you shouldn't - unless you are one. Let me repeat that...if you aren't gay don't do gay stuff. Simple? Oh, someone probably told you you shouldn't like homos either. In fact, if you have the chance to shun one - take it! Forget all that and dig deeper than your fear. You might find there is nothing there.

An explanation of how it is going to ruin this thing we call marriage for everyone if Joe and Steve can do it too is what you are going to have to give me and simply saying, "because God doesn't like it" just isn't good enough. If there is a God and it has a problem, then God can contend with Joe and Steve when they are dead. What God does with Joe and Steve is up to him. If you think Joe and Steve are abominations, allowing them to marry isn't going to make them more or less of one. Really, it won't. They are still going to be big ol' homos whether you allow them to wear rings and eat cake or not.

It seems to me that a certain group of straight people (or people who are trying to keep things straight) tend to make marriage out to be this prize for being hetero. ONE MAN AND ONE WOMAN!!! In other words...If you ain't hetero, you can not work toward and win this glorious prize package. Marriage is treated like a reward. The big snazzy wedding and marriage certificate is your reward for not putting that man's penis in your male bum on a regular basis. And once that ring is on a gay finger - like magic - the gay is gone!

The DOWN LOW

So what is the real fear here, besides all the God talk and archaic notions of sexuality? Are you afraid that if given the chance more people would marry a same genitalia spouse than an opposite genitalia spouse? If you are against same sex marriage because you think people are going to go against their nature and marry a partner they aren't really attracted to on the whole - you may be right. I mean look how many gay people marry straight people! Gosh, Ted Haggard is a perfect example. Here you have an obviously gay man fighting with his inner homo demon. What does he do? He marries a WOMAN! As if that will make him straight! You look at Ted Haggard and he can not even contain his inner turmoil. The poor man looks exhausted from trying to hide his homosexuality! Ted lives a life of stress because he can not be himself. The guy had to snort meth before having sex with his wife. Having sex with her wasn't enough and he had to procure a male prostitute on the side (the same fellow who also supplied him with the meth AND who ratted on him after figuring out the hypocrit he was servicing was all mouthy against homosexuals when he wasn't having sex with a male prostitute). I am not judging in as much as I am pointing out that here is real torment. His wife may or may not known what she was getting in to when she married him. Hell, maybe she thought she could save his soul and make him straight. She couldn't and he isn't. And yet...he is married. A gay man...married. I suppose you could call this type of marriage a gay marriage. So, perhaps gay marriage is legal, as long as it is not same sex.

I have never understood why this kind of gay marriage doesn't cause indignation amongst those indignant about the sanctity of marriage. What bigger sham is there than that? And if you think it is uncommon for a gay person to be so fearful of of the big reveal, or so wanting to have a "normal" life that they marry an unsuspecting member of the opposite sex - open your eyes! Just about every Republican official who has been caught in a Glory Hole sting has been married!

The really funny (not ha ha funny) part is that many men on the DOWN LOW are so much in denial that they refuse to acknowledge their own sexuality and do not think of themselves as the "faggot" in their man on man relationships. These guys are the most dangerous, in my opinion.

The next time you are at a family get together, have a look around. Check out your mom and dad and your aunts and uncles and cousins and so on. Then think about them as sexual beings. It's tough, but it might be the only way to open your eyes.
Think about where your family came from and how homosexuals in general have been treated over the last 50 or 60 years. Did they marry out of choice or pressure to conform? Does it make you sad to think that your mom or dad might have lived a shadow of a life? Imagine your parents getting jiggy and your father having to think of Brad Pitt to get a boner. Is that sad or what? Now imagine a life time of having to be someone you are not. Imagine a life time of being married to someone who wasn't completely there.

Ok, so enough of what the gays want, what about what we straights want? Please, imagine a marriage where your partner is a shell. What if your son or daughter married a person who was not entirely comfortable with themselves sexually? Wouldn't you rather the option be out there so maybe someone in your family might be spared the heartache?
If you are afraid that recognizing same sex marriage is going to cause people to marry a matching genitalia - wouldn't you rather that person marry someone other than you? It seems to me that even the worst and most hateful homophobe would be FOR gay marriage for this reason alone! Good Gawd if you hate gay people, just think how horrible it would be to marry one! It would be almost as bad as giving birth to one!

So that is my rant. Although I said way up at the beginning that sexuality isn't black or white and that there are varied colors between straight and gay; I sure have been talking like it is. I've been talking about gay marriage and straight marriage when I probably should just be talking about marriage.   

I saw Star Trek

Ok, so I am not a Trek fan, but you can not be my age and not know SOMETHING about the original show. It's pop culture. So here is my quick review as a person not all that interested in Star Trek...

If I had to choose a favorite character from the original series it would have to be Spock. Even as a kid I was attracted to black hair and pale (if not slightly teal) skin. I think Leonard Nemoy is probably a real cool guy too. The fellow who played Spock in the prequel was GREAT! I wish that make-up would have worked on his teeth though so he and "old Spock" would have had similar tooth shapes. I found this bit of incontinuity distracting.

The Romulan ship was scary as hell. Eric Bana has such a non-descript face that it took me 30 minutes to figure out he was even in the movie.

And finally, Chekhov. Wow, I really hated how they cast that one. Original Chekov was cute and Davie Jones like. Young Chekhov was just annoying. Seriously, if I have to hate anything about this movie, it would have to be the casting of Chekov.

I enjoyed all the inside-ish jokes and I was shocked that no one spoke the "Space...the final frontier..." speech along with Spock. I was in my head.

Artists in Our Midst 2008

Artists in Our Midst 2008

Artists in Our Midst

A book I helped produce is now available on Amazon. One of my paintings is also featured in the book, as well as art from other Vancouver artists.

I narced on a shoplifter...

Yeah, that was me. I was the person who walked around the duvet aisle just as you yanked that expensive sheet set out of the plastic wrap. I saw you toss the wrap to the floor but you stopped trying to stuff the sheet set in your bag when you saw me. And yes, I had no business poking at the pillows, but I knew you REALLLY wanted me gone, so I stuck around for a few minutes...just looking at things. I also noticed you quickly grabbed up that wrapper and stuck it between the comforters.
When I left you I went straight to a sales clerk and described you to a T. Woman, very tan, around 55, short hair, about my height, big black bag, hanging around the bed linens. They alerted everyone - including the security staff.

I think if I had been shopping in a place that charged ridiculous prices for such things, like a Holt and Renfrew, I probably would have given you the thumbs up and known that you were probably being watched and taped by security. Getting away with that would have been a show of skill like in Ocean's 11. The fact that you were stealing from a place like Homesense, where everything is already so cheap it hurts just pissed me off!

QotD: Grudge Match

Do you hold grudges against people? Tell us about an incident if you do, and if you don't, tell us how you rise above it.
Submitted by Sophie.

 

Is it considered a grudge if you simply wipe them from your radar...forget you ever knew them...Stop being their friend. Or does a grudge include a certain amount of retaliation other than sending "I hate you" vibes through the atmosphere. In order for it to be a TRUE grudge, do I have to spend the rest of my life thinking of ways I could hurt the person or can I just avoid them and ignore them?

Why am I irritated?

Here's why:

1. My boobs hurt. I mentioned yesterday that I had a most undignified encounter at the Gyn clinic here in Vancouver. My breasts are still bruised and throbbing from that gorilla pawed breast exam I was given. I called the director of the clinic today just to let them know that one of the resident doctors there really needs to be schooled on how NOT to damage breast tissue while looking for damaged breast tissue. She was nice and seemed sincerely concerned about my whole experience - not just the bruising. Which lessened my irritation...but I am still irritated.

2. The Zazzle forum and how it is moderated. Who ever is in charge goes beyond the call of duty when it comes to removing posts that do not praise Zazzle or rank a certain level of ass kissery. Countless posts of mine have been removed since I joined up with Zazzle and today was just the last straw. Here is the ironic part...The post that was removed today was a quick note I put in the FEEDBACK AND SUGGESTIONS forum. I gave the feedback that I was irritated because my posts routinely disappear or are moved without warning and my suggestion was that Zazzle forum take on the formula that every other forum I have ever participated in do - let the community know that the post was removed and/or where it was moved. Within say, 10 minutes, this post was DELETED from the boards!
I followed up with a post titled, "ha ha real funny" and made the comment that it was real clever to remove my post and all - very dismissive of you.
I then posted a quick goodbye to the forum, stating why I was leaving: that the moderator who found the need to remove my posts finally did it. I had finally gotten the hint that I was not welcome on the Zazzle forum and that the moderator had won.
Well, that lasted about 5 minutes before it was removed too. Way to go, Zazzle Forum! I would say I was boycotting the Zazzle forum due to censorship, but I have been removed so often there it's sort of like I wasn't there to begin with...

3. Miss USA and all things Gay. My irritation over this is that I have yet to hear anyone point out the obvious.
All this hoo ha over something a beauty pageant contestant said...sheesh. I am not cheesed at that brainless silicon vat for giving her opinion! I am not offended by her opinion! She delivered her opinion with the oratory skills of a preschooler who missed nap time and THAT is what offends me. Opposite Marriage??? W T F? Seriously, if you feel strongly about something - be able to defend it with a little finess. I am so hoping that conservatives do not put this girl on their flag simply because she is not a hag.
Besides this, the question was posed to her by Perez Hilton??? What the hell is he doing at a beauty pageant that is supposed to represent the wholesomeness of America? This is the guy who made his name drawing wangs on celebrities faces, for crying out loud! On top of it, he is no more informed or articulate than the beauty contestant! I've seen him on talk shows, he's an idiot!

Then there is Donald Trump...