Sunday, Ordinary Sunday…

Sunday is my least favourite day. It just seems worse than Mondays, because Mondays, at least, are a fresh start. A do-over. Poor Sunday. It just seems to epitomize that droning-meeting-white-noise bored feeling.

But the real issue is that I’m sick. Allergy sick. I got allergy tested (Thank you, Medicaid), and discovered that not only am I allergic to the grasses that make up those dumb turf lawns that are so popular back in my home state, but also a fair bit of trees, certain  kinds of mold, hay, dust, and feathers, of all things. Guess I won’t be going out and hugging any more trees anytime soon. *laugh*

So, when I was cleaning out the art supply closet at work, I got sick. Like almost instantly sick. Within in a few hours, I started to get a sore throat. It wasn’t until a few days later that I found out there was mold growing on some stuff in the closet. By then I was really sick. Lost my voice and everything, but at least it supported the results of the allergy test. But, do you know how BLOODY hard it is to supervise a whole passel of overly excited little munchkins when you can’t even talk? Luckily, the kids are some of the most amazingly sweet kids I’ve ever met, so I was spared a Lord of the Flies reenactment. *laugh*

This morning, I even dreamed I was cleaning out and organizing an artist’s studio. Which would have been really annoying in that I was dreaming about something I’d been doing all week. Except that the studio was an open air one, surrounded by a low stone wall, and real green grass growing everywhere. And it was warm,  but not too hot, the sky was a soft blue with clouds, and there was that wonderful kind of breeze that comes off the ocean–playful and mysterious and reminding you that nature is a conscious, vibrant entity.

And then I got a sense of my muse being present. Not really in person, just a feeling they were watching me (from afar) enjoy the wind blowing all my bad feelings away and tangling my hair. It was too poignant, and too simple to even exploit for a poem, but I just wanted to acknowledge them in some way, in case they are out there reading this blog from an alternate dimension. Even though I know perfectly well they are just my creative mind speaking to me, I haven’t been able to make that connection to the part of my brain/soul that’s epitomized by said muse. But, still, I’ve been missing you, my Muse/figment of my imagination.

And now I have to go clean my own house on this prosaic, ordinary Sunday. While dreaming of an ideal day that was shared over at a blog called “Scotland with the Wee White Dug”. Rain, a quirky museum, and scotch? Honestly, what could be more fabulous?

https://theweewhitedug.com/2017/02/18/hooray-for-rainy-days-in-edinburgh/

Scrambled Sunday x10

 

Muddled would be a good word for the day. Or the week. My eyes/vision has been a little more wonky this past week.

But, then, everything is (still) going wonky. I’ve been trying to meditate and focus on healing and chakras and mindfulness and all that kind of crap, but it’s a frustrating process sometimes, for someone who’s more action- and results-orientated. I wish I had the magic to heal my eyes myself. Or to fix things this 437th (transition) time around. Let’s just say I’m not very good at the whole passive acceptance thing. ROFL.

Been trying to look at blogs but I’m afraid my very old computer (by modern-day standards) might be dying. Or it’s my internet. It feels like the old days of dial-up when you were just staring at that little hourglass going around and around, only now it’s a circle. Still annoying though. A lot of the blogs I subscribe to never even loaded and eventually I had to shut them down. It’s been like that all week. So, sorry if I failed to stop by your blog! 🙂

Then I went somewhere for someone else’s celebration and was staring at what I think is a new food trend–deconstruction/deconstructed. The lemon tart I ordered looked very pretty and artistic but I just couldn’t understand why it was in pieces. Perfect blobs of meringue on one side, dots of some dark red jelly, a rectangle of jiggly lemon filling standing in the middle, and a bunch of crumbles to its left. I was perplexed by the dish. I guess the concept of fancy food is lost on me. *laugh*

But a lot is perplexing me these days. Kinda stuck in a morass of confusion right now while I try to figure things out. Or not. Just sit here and wait for things to come, because endless striving doesn’t seem to bring anything closer?

But, I am having really amazing dreams, for the most part. When they’re not about people I used to know have died without me knowing about it and are now ghosts and watching me as I go through my sad little life routines. 🙂 In real ghost life, they probably have much better things to be doing. A lot of the dreams I’ve been having, I’ve been channelling into poems. The dreams I’ve been having are about the only thing that makes sense right now, which is even more confusing because they aren’t real. As far as I know, anyway. Except for maybe a couple about…well, I’ll keep that a mystery to the general public. My dreams have got me thinking a lot about reincarnation, though I’m still the skeptical science type in some ways.

But, on the real life side, I got my manuscript back from the individual who was editing it (brave soul!). So, I have to get on rewrites. Which I’m excited about, yet also dreading. It’s a mystery/suspense revolving around the issue of human trafficking.

 

So that’s it in my chaotic world. Hope your Sunday is a lot less scrambled!

Anybody else feeling the lure of the fae this week?

 

 

Why Can’t We Just Get Along?

 

(Well, aside from the fact that we humans are all a bunch of bloody arseholes, that is..)

I don’t care whether you believe in climate change, or not. It’s happening. And we’re just standing around arguing about it in the name of your god(s), whether religion- or science-based.

(Even if your God/Higher Power did create this world, maybe you should look at how you’re returning the favor. By using this “divine creation” as your personal toilet/garbage dump? If I’ve offended you, good. Consider that your wake-up call. I’m already living in a pretty dark place, so threats of eternal damnation aren’t really going to phase me.)

Maybe those rich climate change deniers should pool their resources and buy a private island, then sit back and watch the sea level rise and threaten their (multi-million-dollar?) houses. Then, maybe we’d be united on the climate change front. (Let’s see them try to build the wall to keep out a gazillion gallons of sea water.)

Until then, we’ve got to stick together and come to some sort of accord, rather than waste a bunch of time arguing about religion and knowledge and building walls because of some imagined superiority complex. We’re humans, after all, yet our communication skills when compared to the animals that many look down on or dismiss (now, maybe even trees and plants, as well) suck, quite frankly.

So let’s put our supposed differences aside, and get busy saving the planet.t And the animals. And the trees and planets. All lifeforms, basically. If we don’t, we won’t even have time to argue about all this sh*t, anyway.

Please?

Pretty please with a (non-GMO) cherry on top?

 

(I might take a little break from blogging for the next week or so–see you on the flip side!)

 

 

 

 

Why I Could Never Be a Celebrity…

 

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Photo Source: http://giphy.com/gifs/gary-oldman-sid-vicious-and-nancy-KhV9OTXFatX56

In the town I grew up in Florida, celebrities were ever present, but became like wallpaper–they just blended into the surroundings after a while. I wasn’t really interested in celebrity-hounding, even as a naive-yet-adventurous 20-something alt kid. I preferred just to leave them in peace and ignore any celebrities I ran into while getting my twenty-pack of toilet paper at the bargain store.

So, the whole crushing-on-celebrities seems sort of odd to me. And the lurid celebrity gossip magazines at the local stores really bother me. I mean, why on earth would you want the reality behind the movie/play/song illusion? Why destroy the fantasy–there are plenty of real-life people out there just waiting to rip our most beloved dreams to shreds in regards to love and other affairs of the heart.

(I touched on this in another post, Reading with a Grain of Salt, about being comfortable with the unconsummated magic of non-reality.)

From my introvert’s perspective, I just don’t know how those celebs do it. Constantly being in the public eye, no privacy, every aspect of their selves, their looks, their lives, and everything they do is obsessed over and dissected. Especially with the advent of social media.

It makes me glad I’m an aspiring writer aka nobody. (Even as a nobody, I’ve been stalked, harassed, and threatened multiple times IRL, so maybe that makes me a little more empathetic/sympathetic). Plus, as a writer, you can go insane quietly, behind closed doors, until the day comes that your neighbours begin to notice a strange smell from next door, and call the police. It seems like writers can get away with going mad (*cough* Edgar Allan Poe)–acquiring more delightful euphemisms for insanity (or drug/alchohol habits) such as “quirky” or “eccentric” or “imaginative”. Well, unless you’re a female writer, as history has unfortunately proven. But, I think we writers are supremely equipped to raid the fictional personas as displayed by celebrities, scriptwriters, other writers, poets/poems, and artists–even video games–and, truthfully, comfortably exploit them as muses* to spark our imaginations and inspire our own creative works, without getting lost in the madness where unreality becomes a substitute for reality. (While successfully avoiding plagarism, mind you. *stern schoolteacher look*)

In the words of NCIS‘s Very Special Agent Timothy McGee: “How many times do I have to tell you? The book is a work of fiction!”

I can only imagine how I might be as a public-image celebrity hounded by fans everywhere I went and online as well (Though, in a future reincarnation, I’d be more open to the possibility. Being a starving artist kinda sucks. LOL).

I would probably betray my bleeding-heart-liberal, progressive, grassroots activist belief system about things like gun control and set myself up in a heavily-manned island fortress just for a bit of privacy. And never, ever, go anywhere without a platoon of armed mercenaries. I can see the hashtag campaign now: #fanlivesmatter.

The Chaos Fairy re-imagined as a public-image-based celebrity**:

Fan #1: “Can I have your autograph?”

Celebrity Chaos gives Fan #1 a death glare.

Fan #1: “Please, it would mean so much to me. My dad and I always used to watch your movies together when I was growing up. Until the family bull trampled him to death in the north pasture.”

Celebrity Chaos: “Piss off, I’m in the middle of eating my organic, locally grown, gluten-free vegan burger. If your dad had been a vegetarian instead of a cow murderer, maybe he’d still be alive.”

Fan #1: “You’re an a-hole.”

Celebrity Chaos tazes Fan #1 with her eco-friendly, solar-powered Tazer. Resumes eating her veggie burger nonchalantly.

Disclaimer section for above asterisks:

*Attaining muse status does not mean that you are that person’s true love, soulmate, BFF, boy toy, cougar, or that they would even like you if they met you in real life.

**This only exists in the author’s imagination. It is a completely fictionalized scenario and absolutely does not reflect The Chaos Fairy in real life, nor is it about any existing real people, fans, celebrities, a-holes, restaurants, veggie burgers, cows, pastures, eco-friendly Tazers, mermaids, unicorns, fairies, elves, dragons…

Reading with a Grain of Salt…

 

Mulder: I want to believe.

Scully: Mulder, that is science fiction.

–from The X-Files

“I believe that ignorance is the root of all evil.
And that no one knows the truth.”
Molly Ivins

 

Again, a couple of Twitter posts inspired this blog entry. (I think I need to get out more. *laugh*)

The internet is a great place. So much information at your fingertips. Historical documents accessible to all, without the expense of a plane trip halfway around the world. And, yes, being human, I’ve definitely spent my share of time looking at trivial things on the internet (*coughs* cat videos), and I’ve even been known to indulge in reading the occasional online horoscope–for entertainment purposes only–but I don’t view it as gospel truth. Even we anal-retentive historians, who live for facts, are perpetually questioning Truth with a capital T, even in books by us and our fellow academic smarty-pants

Why? Because our minds are fallible, complicated by emotions, a passion for jumping to conclusions, and plagued (or enhanced by!) a fantastic imagination.

So, since the internet is the creation of a huge diversity of mind-power, it goes without saying that information via internet doesn’t have its issues.

All  information on the internet should be taken with a grain of salt, unless verified by a valid source. Doesn’t matter whether it’s the triteness of celebrity gossip, or actual scientific articles by a heavy hitter like the Smithsonian–please, always read all content with an analytical eye.

Again, why? Because I feel that learning how to think, analyze, question, is an important part of the mind’s development. As a former/future teacher, I always focus more on getting kids to think, to examine the content put in front of them–not just take it on blind faith–not even what I am telling them. (As you may have guessed, I’m not a supporter of rote learning, or of standardized education.) And the internet is the perfect example of the pitfalls of that lack of educational training.

When we begin to accept anything and everything as truth, without question, then we sacrifice not only our intellect but our capacity for independent thought. We are just giving away our right to question whether something is true or false, right or wrong, or even change our minds by our growing and evolving pool of knowledge and consciousness.

(I love fantasy and flights of imagination and magic and mystery and synchronicity and serendipity, but I’m also a fan of Neil deGrasse Tyson–examples here and here.)

That’s how we sign over control of not only our own selves, but that of our own planet. Our own world. You see, I don’t really believe that people, in general, are really that callous about the state of our planet, climate change deniers included.

We’ve just gotten in the habit of using ignorance as a shield of protection from all the horrible, nightmarish things going on out there–this world is an overwhelming place/time to live in, with all the things we have to face every day, most as a direct result of our lifestyle choices. I was just reading Bushwhacked by Molly Ivins (my reading list is a trifle behind the times, but the book is still illuminating all the same), and she’s talking about the impact of polluted sites left behind by corporate Big Business on people’s health, something about “what you can’t see, CAN hurt you”.

This post, yes, is a bit rambling in nature. But the point is, yes, read, read read, even if it is on the internet, but question it all, even if, like Mulder, you “want to believe”. Because it is possible to be a dreamer like Mulder, but also a shrewd skeptic like Scully, all in one mind/body. To be a romantic and a pragmatist–that’s what defines the human experience.

Sunday Sloth(s)

A little while ago, somebody in the Twitter world posted a few pictures of a baby sloth, along with some poetic, evocative turn-of-phrases that stayed with me. I wasn’t sure about posting the link for the photos, permission-wise, even though posting on Twitter is invariably public-access, I’m guessing (?).

Most of the stuff on Twitter I just like and move on–it’s pretty ephemeral in nature, even if it’s deep in nature, incredibly lovely photos of insects, birds or animals, or just plain fluff to look at while I have my morning tea and wait to wake up.

But those photos, poetics aside, reminded me that it is possible for humans and animals to have a deeper connection. The question that’s been on my mind is “Why not”. Why the encouraged distance between most humans and animals? I was thinking of this filmed bit of cows in a slaughterhouse–maybe it was courtesy of Morgan Spurlock…or PETA…can’t really remember the source, sorry, as I’ve seen so much of that sort of disturbing footage over the years as a vegetarian/animal rights advocate/volunteer that, terribly, I lose track.  I just don’t understand how people can calmly stand by and not be affected by the very real trauma and fear cows for slaughter, or animals used in testing, and lots more examples, go through. It’s so evident. People are always saying that I’m just projecting, or being overly sensitive, or any of the 101 criticisms people like to say about me, but I still can’t imagine standing by and watching an animal suffer like that. To deliberately inflict pain. I would probably starve to death if I had to actually hunt my own food for survival, even though you never know what you would do to survive until you are actually placed into that situation. I’m a bit of a grumpy misanthrope a**kicker type in real life (or so people say, anyway) but I still can’t imagine the hate and invectives levelled at “the other” (people who aren’t like some imagined, fictional “ourselves”).

Arrgh, I’m not writing this very well. It’s just been an off week or two, what with all these strange dreams and the summer heat/blues and such.

I know that I rescued two spiders and an earwig of some kind out of my tub today. That I said good morning to my little spider buddy in the window when I got up, who was having a bit of breakfast, albeit somewhat gruesomely. I’ve spoiled my cat BFF, Cricket, even more this week (if that’s even possible).

But, I felt the usual twinges of guilt over having (organic, free-range, hormone free) cheese on my beans and toast, and honey in my tea. *wry laugh*

And I still wondered over the plague of humankind swarming over the earth, and the inevitable consequences of being human myself on this threatened, wonderfully diverse planet. And feeling that all my well-meaning actions were just tiny specks against a flood of destruction.

A crisis of faith/spirituality? Or just a midlife crisis? Or just a bout of the blues this week…I don’t know.

I still hope that love can win out over hate. That the world can be saved, with all its lovely plants, trees, flowers, insects, animals…diversity of life, essentially. But can it happen as long as humans live on the planet, too?

If Trump wins the election…well, I just don’t know. I would hate to assign any sort of impact that man can have on history and the course of the world, but…well, we all know what impact one person can make on history.

I know that those pictures of the baby sloth made me feel a bit of hope…because they just seemed to capture a poignant connection and communication made between human and animal (the words that went along with the photos really helped illustrate the photo, too). But maybe I’m just projecting. Or so my critics would say. But, as Fox Mulder would say: “I want to believe.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

‘Every Day is like Sunday’

 

‘Every Day is like Sunday’

A lackluster week for writing/inspiration…maybe a visit to The Writer’s Path will help.

But, it is summertime, after all– (Hello, laziness :p)

I so miss the ocean out here in the high desert.

Or, I’m just in need of some summer adventuring. National Geographic also has some neat summer adventures if you’re in the U.S.

Gelato in Italy might be the best place to kick the summertime blues…

…or other travel ideas if you’re the romantic type.

Can’t afford to leave home? Read a book. Or ten.

Have a conscience? Try a volunteer vacation.

Okay, I’m off to be lazy elsewhere.

Got other ideas to help fend off summer ennui? Post up below!

Have a fantastic summer!