So my daughter has told me that she wants one thing specific for Christmas.

She wants a Slytherin jacket.  Bad for me is that I can't find one.  Nobody seems to make them/sell them.  (At least....I haven't found one yet!)

This doesn't phase me.  I take it in stride.  Sometimes it's fun to be the 'bad guy'.  Hollywood actors and actresses jockey for position for these parts.

She's a good kid.  I think that somewhere there is this need to express a 'badness' because there is so much that society expects of us, mainly good and reasonable, and there are just parts of us that want to rebel.  Step outside of the norm.  And face it, there are times we are just so pissed off, but we refrain from acting upon our impulses.  There are very few people that I would ever believe have never had vicious thoughts cross their minds.  So instead, people act out their fantasies and frustrations pretending they can do it.  I don't look at that as unhealthy.

It's the people who try to make others believe they are angelic and perfect that you have to watch out for.

Etymology: Middle English epiphanie, from Anglo-French, from Late Latin epiphania, from Late Greek, plural, probably alteration of Greek epiphaneia appearance, manifestation, from epiphainein to manifest, from epi- + phainein to show — more at fancy

3 a (1) : a usually sudden manifestation or perception of the essential nature or meaning of something (2) : an intuitive grasp of reality through something (as an event) usually simple and striking (3) : an illuminating discovery, realization, or disclosure b : a revealing scene or moment

An epiphany is a beautiful thing.  It is when we receive enlightenment.  Wisdom.  We should always be rejoicing in the heart to reach an understanding, and humbled by the knowledge that so few can get there.  Truly.

There are people that move through the world with blinders on.  What frustrates me is that some people, as self-absorbed as they are, when you point things out that are flawed or incorrect, you get one of two responses - anger at being singled out or denial of the entire fiasco.

I had an experience with a family member recently.  A set pattern of behavior that I had observed all my life suddenly changed.  I did not say anything, but my ears perking up did not go unnoticed.  The situation was explained to me thoroughly and carefully, as to what the behavior was, why it was bad, what as lost from the behavior, and how a life-changing situation has altered the behavior.  It wasn't as dry or as clearly cut as I define it here, and in the heartfelt and sincere words, it made my throat tight with emotion.  Because it effected me, was a part of my life, and then changed into something that I had been wanting for a long time, but never realized myself.

I was proud that this epiphany was reached.  I was humbled at the wisdom that was gained.  I was appreciative in knowing that it was found, as some others will go through life never learning anything new - never changing.  I was elated at the response.

These kinds of things give me hope and remind me that I am truly blessed.

I have always had sleeping issues.

But even given unlimited time to sleep, I wake up around every four hours.  If a REM cycle is every four hours, when our consciousness 'comes up for air', why does my brain believe it has to completely resurface?  Are my dreams so vivid and filled with creative imaginings that it has to do a reality check?  Is it so abstract or so horrible that my brain has to make my eyes open to console itself?

This is a possibility.  I mean, I have dreamed in technicolor.  There are times I have wondered if the Dreaming did not escape into the daylight hours before me.  When we open our minds to possibility, reality bends.

I wish that my subconscious and I had more conversations together that I could remember.

One of Tim Burton's first stop-animation projects.  I love it.  I was probably a lot like this as a little kid.




Have a Happy Halloween...or a Merry Samhain.

We are those.

Apparently my husband was working on something which I fail to remember, and my eldest daughter is with him.  He briskly asks her for tools, which she promptly passes to him as he explains what each tool looks like and what it is (talk about hands-on education).  During this time, they have a few words passed as idle chat, the daughter every once-in-a-while asking a question to show some obscure, mild interest in what her father is doing.

A few tools into this, he asks her to pass him a pair of dikes.

His hand is still holding empty air in the middle of a few suppressed giggles from the child-spawn.

He repeats himself, describing the tool.  Giggling, the tool descends into his awaiting hand.  He cuts whatever wire he's working on, comes up and gives his daughter an iron-jawed, steely-eyed glare.

Then promptly gives her a dissertation on the instrument, the slang, the origin of the term, the origin of the people the term is used for, some history on Grecian isles,  A female philosopher named Sappho and ultimately, by using that term, she is being both derogatory and a bigot at the same time to several different parties.

After getting this full in the face, the tool-asked-for-tool-handed resumes it's pace with the errant and mildly interested questions again.

We are firm believers in education.  With a delight in puns and far-fetched humor, it is not beyond us to take 'low brow' humor and dress it down to what it really is - an uncouth dig at someone or stupid body humor.

Not that any of it isn't funny....just leave it to parents to take the fun out of anything which would seem remotely naughty or indecent.

I, however, applaud him in his efforts.  I don't really like the idea of my child referring to anyone as a 'dike', being that I've had some of the nicest company in the world fall into that category, including some aunts of mine.

Plus, when someone gets educated on something like that, it makes them think twice before letting things slip out of their mouths.

So, kudos for the husband. 

Yep.  That's how I feel.

Thursday, I'm starting to *cough* *cough* and having just gotten over some other crud, I immediately decide to take myself to the doctor the next day.

The next day rolls around and I don't even want to get out of bed.  That *cough* *cough* is now accompanied by chills, an all-over body ache, and a 103 temperature.  Woot!

So I take myself to the doctor.  Mind you, I hardly every go to the doctor, so since I have lived in Abilene, I go to this little walk-in clinic usually.  Walk-in clinics are a lot like fast food joints.  The service is crappy, you don't always get what you ordered, and it generally isn't fast.

This time it took about 3 and a half hours to get seen.  I'm glad that I wasn't dying or anything.

Anyway, good for me, I get two little asian men.  One is older and one is younger, named Felix.  Now I could have sworn I saw him at JR's funeral, but I wasn't going to press it.  I mean, hey, I was sick and breathing cooties everywhere, so I don't think it was the best of times to bring such a thing up.  Maybe it was that 103 temp making me delirious. 

Regardless, after waiting two hours, the doctor sees me, tells me that they're going to test me for flu, and leaves to deal with the kid screaming in the next room.

The nurse comes in with a very long, one-sided Q-tip.  "Please....be careful with that thing....don't poke my brain," I croak, trying to drum a laugh out of her.  She does.  "No, I'm not going to poke your brain.  But I do need you to blow your nose."

"What, are you kidding me?  I took some stuff so I didn't leak all over the place."  After wrestling with it, she does some loop-de-loops inside my left nostril (which felt plain WRONG) and scuttles off.  Over half an hour later, the doctor shows back up for the 15 minute test.

"The test shows negative," he says with that fatherly asian smile that asian old guys get.  "However, I have had patients test negative and come in four days later to test positive.  So....I think it would be in your best interest to treat it as if you have the flu."  His chipper smile makes me want to smack him like a bobble-head, but that's okay, you have to be chipper somewhere.  And being sick makes me whiny and not nice.  "You'll receive an antibiotics shot from the nurse and have two pills to take twice a day.  The first is an antibiotic and the second is to help with all the symptoms that the flu brings on.  Would you like me to prescribe you a pain-killer for the aches?"

Now that is a trick question.  Because you know, one half of my brain is screaming, "YES!! WOOOT!! NUMB IT ALL!!" and the other side of my brain is being very practical and saying, "You know you really don't need a prescribed painkiller.  They're addictive...blah blah blah..."  So the third party involved cuts through the arguement, and the body responds by saying, "I've been taking acetaminophen and ibuprofen, alternating every four hours."  The doctor looks pleased with this, saying that it is an effective regiment and to continue as I need.  The cheering section starts ripping out wiring somewhere in the back of my skull in retaliation for not getting the narcotics and the practical side breaks out in golf-claps.

I drop off my prescription, go home, and promptly pass smooth out.

So this is one of the brief moments of lucid wakefulness and I thought I'd blog about it.  I feel like crap, because I haven't gotten to go to any of the shows being promoted in Abilene.  But at least my excuses are good.  People dying.  Flu.  I'm not ditching on purpose.  I really wanted to go. :(  But I feel like total crap.

On the upshot, I at least get some time to read.

I couldn't tell you what I dreamed last night.

But I can tell you what it felt like.

They were dreams of disillusionment.  The kind of dreamstuff that creeps into those that sleep the sleep of the just.  Dreams of chaos, dreams of revelations - and none to pretty.  Dreams of people marching and a loudspeaker with a voice that was crisp, yet indecipherable.  Grey skies and lots of chain-link fence.  Of quiet fears and stern resolutions.  It might have been dreams of civil unrest.

But it gave for a restless, sleepless night.  Twice I sat up straight, wondering vaguely at the dreams that disturbed me.  Only to lay back down and continue my tossing and turning.

Some nights are just like that.

So after getting blasted for apparently 'not fearing death' and being some luddite ignoramus, I retreat to my blog to contemplate the claims of how medicine is very close to giving us 'perpetual youth and health'. *cough* Bullshit *cough*.  They can't fucking cure cancer.  How do people really believe this?

And frankly, who would want to live forever?

Okay, I'm sure that there would be amazing advancements in art, science, health, and technology....but....

First two points.  A. Limited amount of resources and unlimited amount of people is bad.  B. Two words - population explosion.

So for point A....there's a lot of things that might come up.  Religion shoved aside, let's think of more government interference say, in your womb.  Yes.  Limiting the amount of children you can have.  Baby permits, even (and for some, I can't say this isn't a bad idea).  Face it, people aren't going to just stop eating beef - so all the vegans that believe that feeding people corn instead of cows for slaughter just isn't going to happen.  Yes, we're always working on renewable sources of energy...but what about food?  Water?  The idea of recycling that...well, some of you watch Oprah, so I'm sure you know.

Let's just throw out this cute idea: retirement.  You wouldn't have to.  So that job you work at for the past 50 years.....well, double it.  At least.  Do you really want to spend an entire century slaving for some Daddy Warbucks's company?  People would go postal....But you'd practically have to work.  I mean, your kid would grow up...and you'd want to pay for them and their education.  Then their children.  Mind you, you all look the same.  Then their children.  And so on.  Holy shit, batman.

Prepetual youth and health.  SCREW having my period for 100 years instead of just 40-60. I don't take birth control.  It jacks up my hormones.  I cycle like the moon, and I'll be damned if someone shoots me up with anything to screw me up.  Heck, if I'm going to ruin my health, at least *I* am ruining my health, not some half-crazed, power-hungry government who wants to regulate the birth rate.  I have more holistic views on that kind of thing.  I don't want to be tampered with.

And I *want* to get old.  I mean, when some prick cuts me off when I'm toddling up the on-ramp, I don't want to have to question if some 16-year-old dumbass who just got his driver's license was the one who cut me off - of a 85 year old man with dementia that LOOKS like a 16 year old kid.

And....having the same guy hit on me as my daughter?  He could be 75, hitting on my 16 year old...and how the HELL am I supposed to tell the difference?  C'mon....there IS a mental gap there.  Any person with half a bit of sense would know.  I try to show just as much respect to an 11 year old I meet in a store as I do a 90 year old person.  Even without 'age' signs, not everyone does that.  Socially, we'd have all sorts of crap to deal with.

Screw the idea of death row.  California would pay for serial killers to sit for hundreds of years in a prison.  I can see money spent better elsewhere, can't you?

And....what about those that don't get caught?  Do you want them to live perpetually?

Anyone can live their lives trying to find the fountain of youth, but at what cost?  Aging isn't so bad, and neither is dying.  Eventually we will all do it, but it is how we live our lives that defines us, not our tottering age or bed-ridden sicknesses.  What we accomplish and who we come to know and love that defines who we are and how we're remembered.

I'd rather chase the white rabbit down a hole.  It's much more interesting and less bullshit.

Please.......live forever?......*mutter*

At the party the other night, someone was going to write a paper for their sociology class.  The paper's idea was that deviance in societal norms was progressive for the society. 

The example given was a child that was kidnapped.  This goes against societal norms and is a tragedy, but the upshot is that the community comes together to find the child and it reaffirms our idea that taking someone else's child is bad.  He also uses Martin Luther King Jr. classified as a deviant, but by deviating from the norm of segregation during his time, he actually brought about a change for the good, trying to desegregate people by race.

Now, if you narrow the playing field, this is probably a viable idea.  But on a broader perspective, it makes me wonder.  And....I will probably bring in a few touchy subjects.

In the past, women were mostly caretakers of the home.  Any one who got a job was considered a deviant morally.  Even in modern times, people who do not worship the same as mainstream culture (which is Christianity in America) or who are homosexual (considered sexually deviant) are for all intents and purposes considered deviants.  Now, bringing about the kind of acceptance that Mr. King did is all good and well, but the fact of the matter is that somewhere, somehow, in other cultures, these things existed already and is just considered a deviation from the American cultures.  The reverence of death would be a deviation.  The idea of being a naturalist (nude) is considered a deviation.

To me, none of the things listed above are villianized but the idea that they are against the social norms in a way that changes the views of society makes me uneasy.

The whole, "The difference between a rebel and a patriot?  Who's winning?"

And the chaos factor....just because we have an outrage and an outcry over something doesn't mean that we can't screw ourselves through overcompensation.  Let's go back to that idea where we have registered sex offenders....that committed their crimes at 19 with a 17 year old girlfriend....

Views?  Opinions?

So today we spend the day out doing 'family day'.  This also entails buying Halloween costumes for the children.

This wouldn't be such a difficult thing if my 11 year old daughter could actually wear kids costumes.  Well, she's too tall and too big for it, so...really, she can only fit women's costumes.  So....sparing the idea of some of the racier things, I tell her she's free to choose her own costume.

So she finds a more, *cough* adult version of Alice in Wonderland.  That's fine and all, because on her, it's actually ah, longer.  Not quite to her knees, but below mid-thigh.  But she wants the little black poof skirt that goes under it.  So maybe biker shorts too...  But...

I wind up asking the three ladies at the counter to come to the dressing room and look at my child in the costume.  Of course, like any good salesman, they're gushing.  I'm like, "Look.  Okay, my kid is 11."  One balks.  The other takes it in stride.  "You're just being a parent," she says, smiling sympathetically.

Maybe I am just too old fashioned.  It wasn't really...revealing on her.  But it was snug and....she is my little girl.  I don't even buy her two-piece bathing suits yet. 

And it's not that I don't want her to be comfortable in her own skin.  I think that sexuality shouldn't be a taboo subject and that as a woman, she should be proud of her body....but I don't want her to look at it as something totally irrelevant or as a tool.  I mean.....I feel that somewhere there's a fine line, I suppose.  I am just really not clear as to where it is.


And really, that's not even the worst part of it.  We went to four stores, and it was the only costume that she actually liked.  No, I think the hardest part....was trying to explain the mushrooms on it.

Now, I hope to talk to her more tomorrow when she gets home from school.  But... we had a few moments at the mall waiting for her father...and I asked her if she noticed the mushrooms on it.  She said yes, that in the cartoon, the mushrooms helped Alice grow and shrink. 

So I explained to her that some people actually ate mushrooms back in the day (for her purposes, I eluded to when it was written) to, well, SEE things.  They would eat the mushrooms and hallucinate.  Maybe that's where parts of the story came from and the mushrooms on the outfits were kind of a joke. 

Maybe that's really more than I should have told her, but then it goes back to "If you don't talk to your kids about drugs, who will?"

I don't know.  I'm not sure what to talk to her about it, save for the fact that I *am* going to talk to her.

(This is a double-post...it's posted at another blog, but I wanted to share it here.)


In November, I'll have been married 13 years.

Hasn't been all roses, but I assure you, that the quality of my relationship probably makes a lot of others pale in comparison. Why, do you ask? Let me explain some things.

When we got together, before we even got married, we laid out some ground rules. The first is that we'd never call each other out of name. Meaning, even at the most heated portions of our fights, the words, "You're being a bitch/asshole" have come out of our mouths, but never "You ARE a bitch/asshole". To the both of us, there is a vast amount of difference there. The difference is respect. If you're a friend or a loved one, when someone's acting a fool, only a friend or someone who loves you can get up enough compunction to tell you you're screwing up. Everyone else just lets you screw up. But a person who CALLS you a name that isn't 'nice', well they don't have a lot of respect for you, do they? And if they can't respect you as a person, they sure the hell can't respect your opinion.

One of our other rules is that we don't lie to one another. Not even white lies. You think I jest? Lying totally screws trust, and if you don't have trust, you don't have much of a relationship. So....frankly, we have omitted portions of the truth or let it go untold, but we don't flat-out lie to one another (some people might think there is no difference, but to us there is significant difference....). If you don't tell me something, shame on you for not disclosing the whole situation. But if you tell me something and I can't trust you at your word, what good is our relationship?

The third is that we have never laid hands on one another. And I don't mean healing. I think that our childhoods were probably a little more rough-and-tumble than they should have been, but I have seen people take things out of hand, and once you lay your hands on someone in anger, habits form. The force seems to escalate. We have NEVER, in the 13 years we've been married, even pushed one another in anger. (Now I can't say I've never thrown anything at him, but the intention wasn't to hit him. And I can tell you, when you have a small case of beadery explode next to your head, it will certainly get your attention. Not one of my better moments, but it accomplished what I set out to do.)

Those two things I think have been fundamental to the survival of our relationship. There were several people who didn't think we'd last the first three years, us being young and 19 when we got married.

Oh, how wrong they were.

Funny enough, I probably got more offers for extramarital affairs than I cared for. That is saying, after I got married, seemed like everyone crawled out of the woodwork and offered to sleep with me. I don't know what it was. Maybe it was the draw of 'forbidden fruit'. Maybe life didn't turn out the way it seemed for them. But as far as I was concerned, I was married, and by the gods (BEFORE THE GODS), I was going to keep my word. At least two incidents I can remember, I jerked a guy up short trying to kiss me, telling him I as a married woman and thank you if he'd keep his tongue in his own face so I don't have to lop it off. In my eyes, willingly kissing someone else (meaning more than a friendly or loving peck) and you're stepping outside your commitment. Let's lay down the law....if you place a TOE in a building you've forced your way into, the judge will STILL call it B&E. Promise.

I got married. I took vows before the Gods. Firstly, I would be covered in shame to break a vow to my husband. Secondly, I'd be mad to break a vow that I swore in front of the gods. Seriously.

These are MY feelings, and they're mirrored by my husband. I mean, he was a trucker for a while. If someone had told me that when he was out trucking that he'd cheated on me, I'd laugh in their faces. He's not built that way and he carries the same sense of honor as I do. Even if he had been completely pissed off at me, he would have still honored his vows. Same here.

By the same token, I suppose I expect much of others. I cannot say I haven't been let down. A lot. But the idea comes from the fact that if I can, as crazy as I am, live up to these things, the people that I love and think much of should have the same kind of 'sterner stuff' as I do. Not necessarily true. So...I generally don't hold it against them, but I find the older I get, that if they can't live up to at least half of my determination and honor...I really don't need to waste my time on them.

And it's not to be ugly, it just that we don't have a commonality. There are certain thins that mean a LOT to me, and if they mean little to them, how do I expect them to keep up with me? They...can't, really. We're just too different, I suppose.

That goes along to the tune of 'with a fool no season spend, least you be counted as his friend', I guess. If my husband were to drop dead today, any guy/friend that I have ever known, if they'd EVER cheated on their wife/girlfriend and had the foolish notion to confide in me over it, had they been candidates for relationships they were immediately moved to the bottom of the list. Any person who would maliciously act out at someone (yeah, he broke my clock so I slashed his tires) goes to the bottom. Any person that steals knowingly (which includes office supplies, people...a thief is a thief is a thief....) is not even up for any consideration.

Anyway....the side bonus was telling you about how cool my marriage is. But the main point of this blog was the idea of 'oathbound'. Let me get to that.

The idea isn't the pleasure of keeping a secret for a secret. The idea is being able to keep promises. To make commitments and stand by those commitments. It is a gauge of strength of character. Of determination. Of devotion and dedication. Ideally, (and I am forever the idealist) I think that it represents a people with that kind of character throughout every aspect of their lives applied, which is to say that they give their word and they live by their word.

It doesn't have to do with keeping super-secret information. It has everything to do with loving and trusting the people that you're practicing magic with. It's a different level of intimacy, but intimacy nonetheless. And in that intimacy is the same high standards, the same level of respect, commitment and trust.

So now...before you go flapping your gums about how wrong it is for those Traditionals to keep their secrets. Before you rant on about their elitism or call them names over the fact that they're so tight-lipped....instead of dwelling on what you don't know, how about you take some context clues on what their behavior tells you.

How could you want anything but that kind of commitment?

All alone, or in two's,
The ones who really love you
Walk up and down outside the wall.
Some hand in hand
And some gathered together in bands.
The bleeding hearts and artists
Make their stand.

And when they've given you their all
Some stagger and fall, after all it's not easy
Banging your heart against some mad bugger's wall.

So yesterday I go to pick up someone's birth control for them.  I drive to the local Planned Parenthood, and I'm kind of surprised to see a small picket line.

Augh.

Of course, we know why they're there.  They're there because they're protesting abortions.

Now, I've got a lot of mixed views on that subject.  Personally, I think it should be legal in so far as that a woman should have a right to what happens to her body.  I think that if people are brought up with a strong sense of 'moral fiber' or whatever, that they'll make the best decision based on their upbringing.

I said I was an idealist, didn't I?

But personally, although the option has crossed my mind before just because it was available, I couldn't do it.  I couldn't live with myself.  Had it be something where I could possibly lose my life, I might have considered such a thing seriously but still had the same sense of guilt and loss.  I look at it as killing.  Especially the further on you carry the child.  What a person does in that situation is between them and their conscious, not mine.  I don't believe it should be used as a form of birth control.

But, c'mon.

There are a few of these health clinics that do preform abortions.  But a lot of them are there for preventative measures.  I think the fact that they provide birth control and well-woman exams for cheaper is a service to the community.

So, not only is it just creepy to have to go past these kinds of people, some more radical than others, I don't think it's very effective.  If you have strong feelings on the issue, get politically involved.  Don't harass some 16 year old who's just needing some birth control pills.  Or a twenty-something who just wants to get check up for cheaper than going to the doctor.

So as I speak quietly to the lady at the counter, she says that she is unable to release anything to anyone who isn't the patient without a written letter of consent with the patient's name, my name, and my ID.  Perfect.  Wasted trip.  But it makes me a little relieved, because they're taking their security more seriously.  So maybe not so wasted in the idea that I'm enlightened on their practices.

Anyway....the idea was that the picket line was unnerving and all I was doing was picking up someone else's birth control.  Get a life.  Get a job.  Get into politics.  Whatever.  Just don't harass well-meaning people and confused kids.  That is all.

I suppose they're subject to change, but I thought I would post ten that I really loved.  And they're really not in any particular order, but clearly I like the messages they convey as opposed to any real fancy set or acting.  Or they were damn funny.

1. Metropolis






2.  What Dreams May Come




3. O, Brother, Where Art Thou?





4. Big Fish




5. Stigmata





6. The Lion in Winter





7. The Shawshank Redemption





8. Pulp Fiction





9. To Wong Foo





10. Death to Smoochie






And I like all these movies for different reasons. ;)

Today I'll be going to my elder daughter's volleyball game.

Oh, the memories that recalls!

I remember my sister playing basketball.  She was in Band.  She was in Art. And she did athletics.  It was cool.  They cheered.  One year she fell on her face and chipped her tooth (which hurt, of course).  In softball, she got hit in the face so hard with a ball that you could see the stitches from the ball on the side of her head.

But she loved it.  She loved the games and the artsy stuff and being active all-round.

And it makes me think of my bass-toting daughter.  I think that participating in the sports will be good for her.  She used to be afraid of her own shadow.  Timid of a LOT of things.  I don't know if that's because I was too overprotective or if it was her nature.  I dunno. 

But this last year, she's come far, I think.  She is gaining some sense of self, some self-confidence and trying new things.  I'm very proud of her.  Orchestra and volleyball and AP classes in her first year in junior high.  And thriving.  Very proud.

And the little one wants to keep up so badly, bless her.  She joined the reading club.  She says there isn't much else she can join.  But it's okay, she will get her chance soon enough.  These little ones get so big.....I don't know if I would admit it aloud, but there are very heart-rending moment I have which make me long to hold them like I did when they were very little.  To curl them in my arm and let them sleep, just so I can hold them again.

But I am amazed at watching the transformation of them into butterflies.  It is almost surreal.  I know I am blessed.