Operation: Make the World a Better Place – Phase 2:

I celebrate my friends and other nice people I meet out in the world here pretty often, but not often enough. It’s easy to complain about things here, and I don’t intend to stop that altogether, ‘cause frankly, I need a safe vent. I have been and will continue to try harder to really think about what I say here before I go ahead and say it, but this is my “rant” and I don’t feel that there is ANYthing in me that is too ‘bad’ for this place. nyah.
:p
However, I do think that there is more that I can do, so I am going to start regularly* using this forum to talk about the good people I meet and their good deeds, large and small, so that maybe we can all be reminded that it’s not all bad, that there is lots of good, wherever you look – if you look.

The kindness of strangers...
Last Saturday was the day I woke up with my eye swollen shut, feeling terrible. Chris had to take me to the hospital, and work was out of the question. I felt like Quasimodo, I must’ve looked a terrible, icky mess. Nonetheless, a lady in the CVS where I was picking up my eye drop prescription saw me leaning against Chris near the pick-up counter, and stopped to say “Oh, you look like you feel bad” in a sweet and soothing voice, and patted my shoulder and said “Take care.”
Moo. Most people would walk on by, simply out of self-preservation, and who could blame them? You never even really notice that people just walk on by. It’s just what people do. But as soon as she offered me that small kindness, I felt flooded with the warmth of her genuine concern. I instantly felt better. I thanked the lady on the spot, and it caused me to really consider the difference those little gestures can make.

The good side of the medical profession...
For that matter, the staff at Pardee hospital is a crew that always goes out of their way to make you feel a little better. They are friendly and devoted and often funny, too. As bad as going to the hospital is, it’s worth the drive to go to Pardee for the extra-special care. They aren’t the only nice ones, either. I’ve known good doctors and nurses all my life, people who go out of their way to ease and soothe your pain and fear. People like beloved Dr. Asemi who did my appendectomy when I was 13 and in need of more than just surgery; one nurse in particular at the Urgent Care in Hattiesburg who took such good care of me when I was suffering from horrible vertigo the week of Dad and Robbie’s deaths… I can instantly recall dozens of memories of kindnesses given in the worst of times by these devoted people over the years.

Small sacrifices...
Last Sunday, we went to brunch. It was before my flu symptoms had kicked in, but my eye was really bad, and I was feeling pretty yuck. Our waitress was also a friend of ours and I warned her not to get too close. She sweetly and tactfully complied, and went on with her busy business. There was a large table of elderly ladies, from the North (ahem) behind us and they were being incredibly obnoxious to this young lady. At one point, she had to leave her tables to cry. I got up and found her (still trying to keep a safe distance) and said something to let her know that I saw and sympathized, and also made her laugh.
When she returned to her tables she stopped at ours, and carefully and gently gave me a sweet little hug, despite my cooties. Bless you and thank you for that sweetness, Miss E.

It's surprising when some people go out of their way...
There’s John, the man who let me drive his mini-excavator, despite possible risk, and made my day, and there’s Michael, the construction foreman who asked him for the favor on my behalf, not to mentioned stopped his important work to cut my kitchen pipes for me...

Taking a moment from a busy schedule...
My friend Bill, a wonderful (and very busy) person and skilled plumber who took my calls all throughout that frustrating job, patiently listening to my “curvy thingy with the loop” kinds of descriptions, answered all my questions, and then came by to help me be sure that it was done properly, and for no more pay than a cup of Darjeeling...

The web of distant friends...
There’s my friend Will, patiently plugging away at his own complicated life, struggling with his own serious issues, and yet finding time to be concerned and supportive of all his crazy friends...

Dear, dear far away Teddy, who always thinks of me, even when I am a million miles away for a long, long time, who somehow knows when I am struggling and rises to the occasion, whether with some digital silliness, legos for the broken little girl in me, birthday goodies, easter baskets, or random packages of awesomeness. Teddy who knows me better than a lot of people who see me every day and still loves me and calls me BelleBoi after all these billion years…

...And the Strangeness of Kinders...
…The Geek Patrol, on the whole, with all their sundry gentle madnesses. Specifically today, I’ll celebrate Ken’s fierce protectiveness for his “family” and desire to get and keep everyone together; Tobie’s generosity and elemental “fun” power; Mike’s dogged devotion to even the most scandalous of us, and continued effort to keep me in the loop;
Jen and Burt’s loving generosity; Jen’s ‘Warrior Queen’ defense of her “family” (between Ken and Jen, we ain’t got NO worries!) and brave ability to say exactly what she thinks and still manage to keep it loving and productive; Darrel’s surprising and charming vulnerability – some people give presents or help and advice (and D. does those, too), but D. gives something rare – his trust, and a bucketful of exuberance to boot (me, Tobie, Darell, “Fun Elementals” and Triple-Headed WonderBeast). There’s Greg, with his unchanging sweetness and kind words; Chris, who just makes you feel better by being near you, like a contact high; Bec with her admirable queen-like traits, who makes you feel good just by noticing you and offering you a cat smile; Kaysha, who is Grace incarnate and constantly offering words or hugs or gifts that make you feel like a hobbit who just gotten the Light of Numenor (or even some really cool rope!); and all the other Geeks too, who go out of their way to make the world a better place for the people they love as well as setting an example for the whole world on how to be yourself, unflinchingly, without regret, and indeed with great pride for being so singular, and great pride in being part of such an amazing and unique collective.

Please, if you read this and aren’t on this list, don’t feel forgotten. There is only so much time today, but I intend to keep doing this. It’s a way to thank you all for your kindnesses, yes, but it’s more for the purpose of pointing out some of the good in this world, of hopefully inspiring everyone to do more, to try harder, and to consciously honor the kind people in your own world, and maybe to just remind myself that there IS good, and there is lots worth living and fighting for.

Phase three – Operation “SAVE CHRISTMAS!” coming up soon!
Much love,
-Sam


*well, as regularly as I ever do ANYthing…

Warning, I've hatched a plan...

Alright, enough griping – for now. Instead, I am going to try to work a little more of the philosophy of a group of my all-time heroes, one of the greatest collectives of scholars and thinker, nay artists, this world has ever produced and try a little harder to always look on the bright side of life*

I raised hell last week about not loving each other and ourselves enough. Well, the crows have come home for the holidays – or some similar, slightly nonsensical old-farmer’s saying, like ‘if I were a physician, I might be facing a malpractice suit on myself’ or ‘maybe I should try practicing what I preach while I’m in the pulpit.’

So, my first contributions to this cause are that I am going to see what I can do to make it easier for people to do good things for each other and for themselves, and find ways to help people fight these terrible dragons that we are all talking about these days. Some of the things I plan to do are going to take a while. I have to try to cajole Stewart into giving me some of his office time so that we can alter my page to accommodate this plan, but I can go ahead and share my plans with you now. Maybe some of you can help me add to this as I go along. The more the merrier.
I intend to create a new section on Day Off just for the purpose of giving myself and others ideas and avenues for easy ways to help other people, support our soldiers, support our country and yet let it be known that we are not happy with the status quo.

Three things inspired this idea. Chris told me about a postcard campaign during the Vietnam war, people printed and mailed thousands of postcards to the White House, pleading for peace. I think that’s a wonderful idea, because not only is it an inexpensive mass message, that could flood the White House mailroom with something that can’t go un-noticed, but it would also flood our postal system with much needed revenue and help the economy in some small way. I am going to design a series of postcards, with the white house address already added, and put them up in a printable format so that people can print them out and send as many as they please. I may also attempt to raise enough money to have a thousand or so printed up so that I can give them out and leave them in places where people might pick them up and send them on. I think there are a few places in Asheville that might put some on their counter, and I could hand them out to folks who don’t read my page (yet!). That way they can share the web address with friends and go print and mail even more.
I will certainly "keep you all posted", aha, aha, ha. **

My good friend Carol told me about a site called “Operation Military Pride”
“Operation Military Pride is a volunteer organization with a wide range of activities – all which are to boost the morale of our troops deployed overseas. We not only send cards, letters and care packages ourselves, but also distribute troop names and addresses to patriots wanting to send cards, letters and care packages to troops. We are one of the very few groups that allow direct contact with a service member, eliminating the middle man and expenses.”
- from the “About us” section of the OMP web page.

They also offer public events and support every branch of the military service, no matter where they are deployed. They support civilian service staff as well as the animals that deploy with service men and women, with their “Kindness to K9s” program.
They offer a variety of programs and ways to help, like “Books for the Brave” (new and used paperbacks), “Holidays Hearts” (items for the current holiday), “Mission Relief” (stress relief items), and “Women in Uniform” (items for female troops), as well as many others. They make it quite clear though that the troops love to receive anything from home, and ultimately leave it up to you, the sender, to decide what you’d like to do to help.

The fact of the matter is that many of us disapprove of this war, but that doesn’t change the fact that our soldiers as well as the soldiers of our allied countries are there suffering things that most of us could never imagine – now matter WHY they’re there. During the Vietnam war, this country was torn and unfortunately our soldiers were treated incredibly disrespectfully, both by the citizens of this country and by the government. I think the ONE thing that everyone in this country can agree on right now is that this particular travesty should not be allowed to happen again. It’s plain that we are all in for the long haul, and even though you don’t support the “war effort” (ugh), you can definitely support the effort of the men and women who signed on for this job.

I will be looking for more sites and organizations like this, to offer the broadest possibilities for making a difference, and I will add them as I go along. If you have any suggestions, please feel free to e me, or post it to my guestbook.

Another effort I’d like to endorse, support and participate in is the “Sorry Everybody” site.
This site is pretty simple. It has hundreds and hundreds of photos of people from all over America and all over the world expressing their feelings about what’s happening in this country in sweet, funny, poignant, honest, and in my opinion, extremely powerful ways. It is a way for people to apologize to each other and to the world for not being able to do more about this situation, and to be able to see the faces and feel the warmth of other people who care. It is not explosive, it is not aggressive, it is EXACTLY what our mothers and teachers and Sunday school leaders taught us to do: say we’re sorry.
-from their ‘faq’ page:
"What's this site about?
Most people who think carefully understand that Americans are not really any more jingoistic or xenophobic than people in other countries, but it never hurts to reinforce, especially considering what happened on November 2nd, 2004. What must it have looked like to the world outside our borders? America proudly re-appointed her reckless, incompetent and corrupt government. How much of America? Fifty-two percent. The rest of us are aghast and dismayed.
Lots of fuss is made about the “global village.” The Internet was supposed to make communication between cultures, countries and peoples painless and easy. It was supposed to build bridges. But it doesn't do this automatically; somebody has to reach out. The Internet was supposed to lead to education and understanding. It doesn't. Rarely do people on the internet apologize. I thought it was high time. The world needs to understand that there are people in America who don't like what our government is doing. And from the mail we're receiving, there are people in the international community who appreciate this.
Also, come on, it's kind of amusing.
Why does America need to apologize?
It doesn't. Our message isn't normative; it doesn't require anything of anybody. We don't say you should be sorry or you must be sorry. Our apologies are voluntary. Situations like this are great sources of misunderstanding and rancor between cultures. We don't pretend apologies are the solution, but we don't see the harm in offering them.
This is so pointless! Why aren't you out really supporting your cause? You know, volunteering, canvassing, running for office? You should be ashamed!
Who are you to say we're not? The second picture on our front page is a gentleman who has been canvassing for Kerry for the last three months. He's walked from door to door so much that his calves have turned into carbide steel. Don't you dare assume that we're not doing our part, just because we spared ten seconds to hold a sign up to a camera.
Why don't you just accept that Bush won and get on with your lives?
We have. That's why we're so sorry."
***

Most of all, these three things have made me feel like I CAN make a difference, that I can have a voice, and they make me feel less hopeless and helpless. We all need that right now. We feel that our rights and freedoms are being stripped from us, that we are being herded or railroaded by the moneyed few (and ignorant many), and we feel like this war is out of control and that our soldiers are at terrible risk for a cause that we are uncertain of. These are all ways that we can help and feel like we have more control. These are ways that we can be a unified force without having to completely disrupt our lives and the working order of our communities and country. These are peaceful, loving ways to fight all the wrongs, and isn’t that what we really want?
It’s what I want, and I hope you’ll join me.

I’ll leave you all with these things to consider, and tomorrow (‘Lord willin’ and the creek – or fever – don’t rise), I’ll be back with more.
Much love,
-Sam


*Yes, I know that this is impossible to actually always do, but I’m willing to bet a LOT that I could certainly do it MORE.
**nanny ogg would call this a "triple intender".

other python songs and sound bites, just for the happy heck of it:
the unofficial monty python home page (with mp3’s and wavs and au.s),
a fan page with more python music,
and other odd little british sounds from a site that adores eric idle. yay!

Isn’t it funny (well, not funny “haha”, but funny “odd and not really very funny at ALL”) how one incident in your life can kind of knock you for a loop but in the process awaken twinges of pain from old emotional injuries, or even reopen serious “wounds” that hadn’t quite healed yet? As if it isn’t bad enough to have this current-day crisis, you also suddenly have to deal with ghosts and memories and hurts from your past.

In a way though, I’m glad that this happens. Obviously, if the old wound were healed, this wouldn’t be a problem in the first place. It’s plain that the old pain needs to be dealt with, but it’s so hard to do that when you’re surfing the wave of current pain.

Something truly awful happened to some people I love last week. I have tried not to say too much about it here, simply out of respect to the folks involved, plus it’s really not my story to tell. I’ve spoken directly to several of my friends about it, but blogging to the world would be inappropriate. Thank goddess, things seem to be leveling out for them, and no permanent physical injury was done. The other injuries will heal in time, and hopefully some of them will be even stronger in the broken places when the healing is done. It scared us all badly, though. It scared me badly, and when all was said and done, I found that it had uncovered several of my own bad wounds from the past. Some of them were obvious ones – mother/daughter abandonment stuff and a lot of other mother/child issues, and some of them were surprise elements, like having to face the fact that the majority of my family simply does not accept me as I am and love me unconditionally; or the fact that some of the people that I have loved and admired the most were not at all the people I thought they were, and at least one – one that I loved most dearly - was in fact a cruel and shallow-hearted person, capable of mistreating and punishing an innocent child for the alleged sins of their parent.

Luckily, I am back in therapy a little. I am not able to go as regularly as I did with my former therapist, but it’s nice to have someone to talk to. I don’t feel like I will be able to make as much headway as I’d like to, simply because of time and money constraints, but just some direction might help. I find myself getting angry in these sessions sometimes, something that rarely, if ever happened with Lynda. I think this is due to my therapists’ way of getting answers to her questions, or maybe it’s her assumptions about certain situations. She’s good, and she’s helping, but some injuries need a gentle touch, and that ain’t this lady’s gig, for sure. If nothing else, I think she can help me with the current stuff, the day to day and discipline issues that I have, and that will make a big difference everywhere else, but I think as far as the deep stuff goes, I’m on my own. Nothing new there. I think I need to dust off my notebooks from Riveroaks* and return to some of the skills I learned there.

One of the things that came up this week is a question about forgiveness. I am reading a book called “The Four Things That Matter Most”. I’m not usually one to read ‘self help’ books, but the hospice director asked if I would, and if I’d consider taking part in a discussion on the book at some point. I think hospice is a wonderful organization, and I was flattered to be asked, so I said yes. It turned out to be a good thing.

The book is written by a doctor who often handles hospice related cases and practices a lot of palliative medicine. He created this ‘theory’ to help his patients and their families face and deal with the grief and their relationships. He encourages them to say the “Four Things” to one another while they can, even if it is in the very last minutes, and this book goes on to encourage healthy people to do it as soon as possible, even every day.

The four things are: “I forgive you”, “Please forgive me”, “Thank you”, and “I love you”.

Those really are the four most important things, aren’t they?

I’ve been thinking a lot about this, and I realize that only one of them is really hard for me. It’s “I forgive you”. It’s not that I have a hard time forgiving, it’s that I feel as if I can’t say what I am forgiving them FOR. If I could say it without hurting them, or without them saying that I made it up, then I think it would be ok.

A couple of years ago, I was talking to a family member, one that I’ve been pretty close to in the past, despite our slight age/generation difference. For years, I’d wanted to confront her about something in our shared past, and so in a relaxed, private moment, I did. Her initial reaction was complete denial. It simply never happened, and that was honestly what I’d expected. I pursued it though, and brought up some details that made it impossible to deny. When she confessed that she remembered, I was so relieved, and when she saw that this was not going to be a Spanish Inquisition**, but just that I needed to have that memory validated so that I could go on with the process of processing, she relaxed, and we talked, and my love and respect for her deepened immensely. Forgiveness was mine, and it felt good, I think, to both of us.

But how could I say this to my mother, to whom my entire childhood and adolescence is a lie I created, apparently to hurt her? Or to my Aunt Sue, who is steeped in the righteousness of her age and experience and in the knowledge that she is our most respected elder? Or worse, to the ones who have gone on, like the person I mentioned earlier, who hurt an innocent child? Is it still possible to forgive them?

In my heart, I want to. I crave it. But I made a choice long ago, out of necessity, to not accept any lies about things when I KNOW otherwise. I don’t want to hurt my mother, but I won’t let her hurt me either. My family has asked me again and again to let it go, and just forget the past. If it were something small, one incident, a few incidents, or even a lot of the normal kinds of incidents that families and mothers and daughters face, then it honestly wouldn’t be an issue. I can forgive her for all the things she did. I can even understand them, maybe even better than she does sometimes, it seems. But I cannot forgive, or at least accept, her continued insistence that I made it all up. Even after my brother said, to the whole clan, that I was not lying, that he was there and he remembers it all, too. She still maintains that I am delusional or just mean, I guess. I’m not sure how she handles it, because she absolutely refuses to talk to me about it. If something were to happen to either one of us, this will have all gone unsaid, and there will be even more of a chasm in at least one of us, but I suspect both.

And she's not the only one with whom I have these kinds of issues...

So I guess it has to be done by me, alone, and go unheard. But I’ll know. I can say these things to my mother, and to the others who need to hear these things but possibly never will. I can say them here, so it’s out loud, and in my heart, so that I can hold on to it. Maybe it's a start, or if nothing else, it will raise these questions in your own minds, readers.

Here are some of my most important things:

Please forgive me for being so stubborn, for refusing to settle for just “letting it go”, for refusing to accept what I feel are incorrect opinions of me and of my past. Forgive me for being unable - so far - to find another way to deal with all this pain, mine AND yours.

I forgive you for needing to comfort yourself with denial. I forgive you for being unable to love me as I am, and for being unable to love yourself as you are. And I certainly forgive you for the million small incidents (and many big ones) that caused me to feel this way in the first place.

Thank you for giving me life and good attributes and strange comforts and stories to tell. Thank you for the moments when I am proud of who I am because of you.

I love you.

-to be continued,

-s

*that’s my old Alumni Looneybin

**’cause you know, NO ONE expects the Spanish Inquisition.

Note: the first bits of this rant are basic ‘weekend update’, fairly boring household stuff. If you don’t feel like reading such blah faire, at least skip down and read my really tremendously wonderful exciting news – you’ll know it when you see it, it has LOTS of exclamation points!


Well, there’s lots of small news… I spent the weekend furiously trying to get things done around the house. I have been trying to replace the trap under my kitchen sink to no avail. I am trying to replace the old and busted metal pipes with some new plastic hotness*, but I can’t seem to get just the right parts to go back in there. Grr. I am probably going to have to break down and call… * duhn duhn DUHNNNNN! * the Landlord and get him to send his son to fix it. Bluh. It’s not that I dislike them, it’s just having anyone else in my house, especially making noise and mess SUCKS. I turn into Rainman when this has to happen. It’s gonna’ be REALLY bad when they have to come fix the bathroom floor, but it has to happen. I bought a shopvac to try to help me handle the TREMENDOUS volume of dust and doghair. It’s funny, now that I have a vacuum that works and works for my house, I like vacuuming. Weird, huh? It cuts the work time down to a fraction, and now, when I try to clean up dust and hair, I’m not just shifting it off of the stuff, up into the air, up my nose and back onto the SAME surfaces. It’s really frustrating when you realize that you are just more evenly distributing the yuck. Yuck.
I also bought some good natural – yet serious – household cleaners to help fight the mold and mildew, some things made out of real orange, lemon and pine oil. That way, after I get some of the stuff out of the house (I also finally rented a small storage space and have begun to move some of my seasonal and extraneous things into that – thanks again for the moving help on Monday, Wetrats, Jamie, X and Erin!) I can vacuum the spaces, and kill the mold and mildew. Yuck and yay.
In other household related oog, I found when attempting to FINALLY turn on the big heater that the gas hadn’t been turned on at the tank. So… I turned it on, and tried ALL day yesterday to get the pilot lit. I finally convinced the lady at the place*** to have a repair technician call me in an attempt to walk me through the steps that he might take if he came out. He did, and I learned all about thermal valves and switch contacts, and got the heater working. I can’t believe that they trusted me with something so dangerous, but hey – they’d even let me have a KID if I wanted one! What are people THINKING? ;)

I also shopped for groceries, did laundry, cooked big for the Mississippi party (more on that later) and cooked meatloaf for mine and x’s lunches for the week, did laundry, got plastic for the windows (x gets that job though, moowahahaha!), took out the garbage, and began the dreaded organization of the summer/winter gear.
That’s all the basic stuff.

On Friday night I took part in a revival of the Upstairs Gallery’s annual Coffeehouse Poetry Night. I used to be one of the honored regular readers, but since the gallery closed to move to a new building, the Coffeehouse – along with all the other wonderful art and programs they have there – has been delayed for the three years of renovation and planning. I was happy when Betsy called and asked if I’d come read, and double-delighted when she suggested that she and I do a piece together to open up the show! We spent two weeks writing back and forth via e and came up with an excellent piece. I’ll try to remember to post it here for your perusal. I have already posted the other things I read, but Chris’ dad read several of his, and there is one in particular that I will ask for a copy of so I can share it with y’all.
All in all, it was a good night. I wasn’t feeling very well, but the work was good, the art show currently installed is amazing and the company was excellent and so were the brownies. Mm! Now that’s a good way to fundraise, if you ask me.

The Mississippi party was Sunday. For those of you who don’t know, a few weeks ago a stranger came into the library, a nicely dressed elderly man with a particularly lovely accent. He said “Rumor has it that you’re from Mississippi…”. Well, ‘turns out he was a messenger from the lovely couple who organize this function where 250+ people from my home state get together for a potluck dinner. Yeah! I was instructed to invite any other Mississippians I knew and to bring a dish that was a homestyle favorite. I decided to bring a big pot of cabbage and sausage, and two big pones of cracklin cornbread. I got there late, and by the time I arrived, most folks had already eaten. My pot of cabbage went almost untouched, but that’s ok, ‘cause X and I love it, and it goes well with meatloaf. The cornbread however, was a HUGE hit! One woman even came to me and said “I’m leaving here to go to my brother’s birthday party, and I was wondering if I could take him a couple of pieces of that good cracklin’ bread! We haven’t had it in years and he would love it if I brought him some!” Several people asked to take a piece home, a few others found room for that instead of another dessert, and a couple of folks just stood by the pan and nibbled until it was all gone, save one piece, which I took to Stewart. : ) Yes, I am a proud Southern girl, I could just picture daddy smiling down on me and my DURN good cornbread, if I do say so myself!
I met several nice people, none from Hattiesburg. They must’ve left early. It was a pretty day, and a nice visit. The food wasn’t too bad, either! ;)

Ok, now for my REALLY BIG NEWS:

I GOT TO DRIVE AN EXCAVATOR YESTERDAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Here is a picture of the very model I got to drive – WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Can you believe it?!?!? It’s a dream come true! I was working on the sink and took a break to go and check the mail and I saw that they had a boom truck across the street, unloading sheetrock for S&A’s renovations. I’d never seen one with a forklift/claw on it before, so of course I was intrigued. I stood and watched for a minute, then went back to my work. When I discovered that my tailpipe needed to be shorter, I went over to ask Michael if I could borrow a saw. He cut it once, it was still too long, so when I went back and asked him to cut it again, I said “I really just came over to get a closer look at the boom truck.” He laughed and said “You really like all this stuff don’t you?” I said yes, and he said “Well, you oughta’ see if John’ll let you drive his machine.” I thought he was joking, but he started walking down where John was digging. The next thing I knew, he’d backed it up to a flat place, and I was climbing into the cab!!!
John was a very nice and patient guy – especially after I told him that the first time I saw his machine parked in Steve and Alli’s lot, I climbed up on the bed of the transport and just LOOKED at it. Maybe that, or maybe he was amused by my SURELY idiot-like, ear-splitting grin!!! John actually owns this machine, and his very neat workman’s chambrays and clean white Santa beard reflected the excellent condition of that nice machine. I knew that it was a big deal for him to trust me up there, and I tried to let him know how grateful I was
He let me work all it’s functions, and let me dig some dirt and put it back and scrape it flat. I got to spin it around and drive it back and forth. It was Sam-heaven! I was only up there for a few minutes, but those were definitely some of the best, most exciting few minutes of my entire life! YAY, ME!!!!!!! Only thing is, I’m HOOKED now. How will I get my next fix?! Chris pointed out that now that I know how to drive one, it will be MUCH easier to steal one, MOOWAHAHAHAHA! * cough! * Ahem. I mean, ‘Haha! Isn’t that funny? Steal one! Ha! As if!’ :mmmmm… traaaaaaackhoe….
: )

Well, that’s all my basic news, weekend update, etc.
If you have any digging that needs to be done, call me! I’m ready!
Much love, and more road equipment,
-Sam

Pain, pain, pain, pain, pain.

My god. My head hurts so bad that it hurts to THINK – much less read, type, sit at a desk for 8 hours, or even watch tv. Every sound and smell is amplified, all light. It’s terrible.

For those of you who have not heard this lament, I have had the same headache now since September 20. I think I am going to give it a name. Some days it is bearable, just an insistent prod. But on days like today, when my jaws and neck and shoulders and back ache with it, and my eyes throb, I just wish I could be sunk into a semi-coma in a dark room for however long it takes to abate.

My allergist, the lovely and talented Dr. Adele, has changed my meds, hoping that would help. Nada. But I think the rest of my allergy problems have diminished some, most days.

For those of you who see yourselves fit to judge me harshly, maybe it’s a punishment for my evil ways. I’ve considered that option when I was at the apex of the migraine. But when the pain mellows out to a bearable buzz I remember that I am a good person trying to be a better person and if there’s a classic God and He (no Mother Goddess would do this) sees fit to punish me this way, then I’m for the Other Team anyway. What I know, when I can think clearly, is that the only punishment I am suffering is the same one we all suffer, and that is the penalty that we pay for living in the environment we’ve created. I’m just too sensitive to this chemical muddle that is modern human life and it is breaking me down.

Migraine aside, I am persevering. I’ve got some personal issues with the people close to me that I need to ponder, in the moments that this Mal de Tete will let me. Plenty of challenges to face, that’s for sure. I am watching my own struggle with my very stubborn human nature battle it out with my knowledge that I must find a way to put all that aside with interest and curiosity – and not a little angst. Things are said, and my gut reaction is to call the person on what I perceive to be their wrongs or lies or whatever. It generally comes down to one question: "How important is this?" Some things, outside things, really don’t matter. I can choose to accept the falsehood on the basis of things like maybe “no one can really prove this” or “maybe I’ll decide to just be quiet and let that person deal with their own conscience over this, because the important people know the truth”, or even “at the end of the day, who really gives a !@#$.” and let it go. But there are other things, bigger things, personal judgments on my thoughts and behavior, on my soul and beliefs, that are much harder to back away from. Should I just accept these judgments quietly and allow the ‘judge’ to think that I am accepting of their decree? Maybe that is the right thing to do. It’s just SO hard for me.

My family has taught me the hard way that if you fall asleep on the job, you can wake up painted as whatever they need you to be in order to comfort their own egos or consciences. I have, in the past, been known to be a bad cook, a bad singer, clumsy, lazy, a liar, insane, cruel, completely full of shit, a sinner … the list goes on*. There is no doubt that I have been all of these things at moments, like every human, but I have never been any of these to the bone. However, I feel pretty certain that there are some of these that some of my family members – along with other people from my past – would accredit as some of my intrinsic traits, until I die. I have made the decision to walk completely away from some of my past acquaintances (and even family members) who continuously tried to shove me into these boxes, but there are some people that you really don’t want to walk away from. I suppose you can’t really do that though. If someone continues to want to hurt you, then I guess you have to walk away peacefully, hopefully with love. In the past (as recently as yesterday), I’ve stood up for myself and tried to ask them to see me differently, but some people don’t want to – or in their view – need to change. I suppose I just have to accept that and make my choice.

I don’t want my loved ones and acquaintances to think that if they say anything critical about me that I will just walk away. I hear a lot of "critical" judgments’ (helpful suggestions) from people who love me - and really know me - that I DO agree with. I am grateful to them for listening to my side, though, and I am grateful to them for trying to help me be a better person. For those of you who have been brave enough to do that, thank you. I hope that you have seen some change in me, and if you have not, I will try to be understanding if YOU make the choice to walk away from ME.

And for those of you who have judged me and listened to me and allowed me to change your perception of me, to prove that I am more than you see, thank you, bless you. I’m proud to be worthy of your attention and consideration. It is you who inspire me to keep trying.

Every day, I’m sorry for the hurt I cause. Every day, I look for ways to be me and stand up for myself and still be a good, kind person. Every day I make mistakes and sometimes I miss the clues as to how to improve. But I have learned that love and patience and trying very hard to step outside of your self and into the other person’s shoes is the only possible solution.

If you are one of the people I’ve made the choice to walk away from, I hope you understand, and if you are one of the people I’ve tried to convince otherwise, I hope you see that this is because I see your need and love you too much to walk away from you, and this is all I know how to do – so far.

And if migraines are a punishment for being this way, bring ‘em on. I can take it. I’ve certainly taken worse.

Much pain, but more love,

-s

*the most important, terrible, life-changing things that have ever happened to you can also magically cease to have existed. that's a neat trick, too. :(

WARNING: Strong language and opinions.*

Goddamn it, I’m pissed.
The whole world is going right to hell in a hand basket. There’s huge, deadly, grim and seemingly unending world war and civil dispute as well as the usual urban violence and misery - homelessness, poverty, domestic trials - and yet good, sensible, loving people still find it necessary to fuck themselves and one another over in the places where it is absolutely unacceptable.
None of us is perfect. None of us are machines capable of going on endlessly with no relief. We have fragile psychologies and we need constant maintenance – understood. But we are also brilliant, thinking, loving beings capable of achieving actual divinity, and yet, we do this utterly stupid, mean, thoughtless shit to each other and then SOMEHOW wonder WHY THE WORLD IS SUCH A SHITTY PLACE.
It is a shitty place because we do not love ourselves and we do not love each other enough. Bottom line.
Hurricanes and rockslides and cancer all suck, but they are completely beyond our control. We are experts at surviving these kinds of things and going on with our lives. We can recover from these enormous, terrible things and the losses that come with them. What we cannot get over is the little tiny (and sometimes really HUGE) horrible things we do to each other and ourselves a million times a day every day.

I am not trying to preach something I don’t practice, either. I am not perfect**, and I will never be perfect, but I have realized/figured out/decided/been told OVER AND OVER AND OVER again that I MUST try harder to be a better person. I must learn to love myself, I must respect myself so that my friends and family don’t have to worry about me, I must keep myself strong so that I can handle the gigantic, overwhelming volume of SHITE that the world throws at me every single day, I must be able to recognize when I CAN’T do these things anymore and let someone know, and I must do all of these things for every single other person that I come into contact with as well. And I dare anybody to say that I am not trying. I may not be trying hard enough yet, but I’m working on that, too. Every single day.

People say to me and to each other: “you can’t take the problems of the whole world on your shoulders” and “you can’t do all this alone” and “you can’t worry about things that are beyond your control” and “it’s not your responsibility”, and all that, but you know what? If I don’t do it, who fucking WILL? And if EVERYBODY tried a LOT harder, it would be a LOT easier on every single one of us. Who REALLY cares who you wanted to vote for?*** Who cares about gay marriage? Welfare? Who cares what your stand on abortion is? The answer is ‘at the end of the day, it doesn’t really MATTER.’ There are real issues and real babies and real friends (including some who might want to marry people of the same sex) and real strangers – including the ones we’ve been conditioned to think of as ‘enemies’ who need something NOW. And those are the things that we can give them, and teach them to give themselves, if we could ever step out of our pre-programmed little settings and actually use some common sense and logic and actually give a damn. Sure, maybe you're pro-life and Christian - doesn't that mean that you're still supposed to love the girl who made another choice? Help her in her time of need? I’m not saying ‘Don’t vote, don’t stick to your guns on the issues that matter to you…’ but I’m saying that while you work toward those things that can take YEARS to change, especially considering our democratic system, put your bullshit aside in the REAL world and do some things that will really HELP, like volunteer somewhere that you are needed, like a library, hospital, senior center, homeless shelter, build houses for habitat, organize a bake sale to provide Christmas for kids who need it – SOMEthing. Put aside your moral stuff and just HELP.

We – myself included – need to quit worrying and whining about what we can’t do and do SOMETHING to better this world. And not just a little something. If enough people decided to stop half-assing around and make the choice to devote their entire lives to making the world a better place – starting with themselves, then even if we fail, we will be able to say we lived a life worth living. Every single one of us needs to strive for this. In my opinion however, it is impossible for people to try that and fail completely. No way. Even in my own half-assed way, I have made a HUGE difference in a LOT of people’s lives. You all tell me so, and I see it around me. What could I do if I tried just a little harder? And what if I tried a lot harder?

And you know what? Yesterday proved to me that stepping outside of yourself and focusing on other people’s problems can be the very thing that saves you from your own self, at least for a while. We all need to be aware of and concerned about the Big Picture, but we need to chip away at it by dealing with the first things that come our way, one or five or twenty at a time until SOMEthing changes. And if we all did that, then when I finally take on more than I can handle at the time, and just collapse, there will be people there to catch me too, because we will all be awake and aware, or at least AVAILABLE.

This is only a truly Sisyphean struggle if we look at it in a Universal sense. Yes, we will eventually all fail and die, yes, our galaxy will eventually be sucked into a black hole, yes, the environment will eventually cease to be able to support human life, but not today. And today we can do SOMEthing, ANYthing to hold back the tide, make a small difference SOMEwhere, to SOMEone. And if EVERYone gets off of their ass and stops making excuses and stops pondering their existential doubt and who’s zooming who and what J-lo’s wearing and “I told you so…” and DID something, it couldn’t help but get better – or at least it would change and not be the same old same old that we all keep bitching about.

If people read this or more likely just know this and still make the choice to hate or just be apathetic and make excuses and wallow, then you are no better than the people who spend their time actively trying to do harm. If you have a choice in your day-to-day doings, and you consciously make the choice to do the bad thing or the truly selfish thing, then you are as culpable as any true villain. If you ever call yourself someone who has a loving soul, someone who cares about themselves, your children, other people’s children, the world, then you cannot make excuses any longer. You MUST try harder to make a real difference. No more excuses, no more slacking, no more bullshit. Find a way, in every thing that you do, to try to improve 1. your outlook, 2. your world. If that means thinking twice before you flip off someone in traffic, finding more ways to carpool, calling on friends when you need help, calling friends to offer help when you have some spare time, picking up a piece of trash on the side of the road, volunteering somewhere once a month, meditating while you’re in the bath/shower/potty, telling someone you love them when you want to call them a dumbass, putting someone else’s feelings before your own IF it’s not detrimental to you (and if it IS detrimental, try to find another way, a compromise), letting someone cut in front of you in a line, dropping the pennies in the bottom of your purse in the lion’s club box, baking cookies for a neighbor you don’t know well, trying harder to like someone that you have problems with, trying to listen harder when someone is saying something you don’t agree with – there are a million ways. None of us are trying hard enough. Every one of us needs to try harder to be Ghandi or Mother Theresa.
We need to reach out, we need to give until it hurts. We need to find ways to say what we feel and get our needs met without hurting anybody. We need to share the wealth, whatever kind of wealth we have. We need to think not only twice but THREE times. We need to truly love our enemies. We need to do everything in our power to make peace. We need to try MUCH harder to make the right choices about the REALLY important things and try harder to forgive ourselves when we screw up the small stuff. We need to take ourselves and each other to task. We all need tough love, sisterly love, brotherly love, motherly love, fatherly love, godly love – MORE LOVE. We need to increase it, share it, spend it, spread it until there is NOTHING else.
Nothing else is going to save us. Nothing else will work. ‘42’ is cute and funny and ironic, but THIS is really The Answer. It is the only thing that will work, the only thing that will save us, the only thing that can make us into the grand creatures that we THINK we are.
Period.

MUCH love, and more where I can find it or make it. This is a vow. I expect the same of all of you, but I will do my best to keep my promise whether anyone else tries or not.
-sam

*This is not the erudite plea for peace and understanding that I have every intention of posting here when I can finally stop gritting my teeth long enough to put it together and type it. This is just something I HAVE to say. This is my monkey-self ranting as need be. Sorry.
**woo, am I not!
***The government damned sure doesn’t.

And so the year ends. The ground will go fallow, the leaves will fall, the things that sleep when it gets cold* will take to their hidey-holes – the part of the world that circles around our calendar will take its rest.
If the spring and summer are times for loud building, work and singing, chirp and moving, then the winter is for quiet building - docking one’s proverbial ship for cleaning and repairs. Our bodies have to go inside, and our consciousness turns inward, too. It’s a time for assessing our internal stores and damages and doing what we can to make ourselves “sea-worthy”.
Hopefully when spring comes we will emerge to a bright and brave new world. One where our national leaders have begun to actually care about their jobs and the citizens who depend on them; one where our soldiers will be coming home to have their bodies and minds healed by a loving and grateful government. We will awake from our hibernation with renewed concern for our neighbors and our environment – and ourselves, and we will show our joy by sharing this good feeling with everyone who didn’t get a winter’s rest. We will love our enemies until they can’t hurt us anymore, we will take what we have that is surplus and give it without hesitation. We will care for the children and elderly and animals of other families, we will take more notice of the world around us in order to enrich our souls more deeply and have a better understanding of others.
All these things are so easy. Things we should all be doing already, every minute of the day, right? And all we need is a winter’s rest to think and find these things within ourselves to change the world. I don’t think the Goddess gives us money or possessions of any kind. I’m not sure that She gives us any more strength or beauty or grace than we’re born with or can find on our own. But the one thing that She – or He, or the Universe - DOES give us is CHANCES. A new one every day, every second. Opportunity abounds in this Universe. Change and chances are the one thing that we all believe in, no matter what we call God.
I wish you all good and productive winter’s rest. Let your body slow down, let your soul quicken. May your chances all find you. It’s up to us to make the world a better place. These men who are “running” it will run it into the ground.
It’s up to us.
Much love,
-Sam

*like GIRLS

Debate is raging across the country, friends against friends, families divided, the whole country divided. It is war on every scale. People speak of taking up arms, people speak of armageddon, people speak of slavery and freedom. The one thing I have yet to hear is someone who says that they just don't care. There's at least that, because in my opinion, that's what got us here in the first place.
As much as we'd like to believe that next Tuesday is going to change the world, no matter what happens, we will still have to deal with the horrible mess that greedy, angry men have gotten us into. Theirs and ours, we are all guilty. There is no clearly defined "good side" and "bad side" in this. There are just the innocent and the instigators. The people with money and the poor. The sheep and the wolves - and you know which one you are.
I thought all along that I was being tough here and not mincing words, but I realize how hard I've been trying not to really offend anyone, to allow others their own feelings and consider the (very slim) possibility that I am wrong, and just speaking from my tender heart. And then I read what Jen said in her live journal, in response to another friend's passionate defense of the current administration and it's war [*shudder*].
He quoted some of the popular propaganda (and it's ALL propaganda, both sides), and expressed his opinion that we should be supporting our soldiers (YES.) and this terrible travesty of a "freedom fight". The only thing I commented on (yes, I mostly held my tongue) was his claim that our soldiers morale is good and I said that soldiers told me otherwise (of course he and others claim that morale is bad because we treasonous citizens oppose the war and NOT because they are being shot at and blown up and having their lives taken away so that a very few men can get a lot richer - NOT the soldiers, FOR SURE, mind you...) and mainly kept my other opinions to myself because this is out LJ group, and it is unkind and unwise to stir up cauldrons there. Ask America.
Jen, however, was brave enough to say something else, that being 1. exactly what is on her mind, and 2. What I believe is the stone cold truth. I am honored to quote her here:

"I normally don't reply to things like this but I was laying in bed mulling this over and had to put my two cents in. War is a political tool and in today's world is just like capital punishment. We can't DAMN decide if we want to do it or not. Wars are not justified by the bad guys. You can spin facts anyway you want. America fights the easy fights (Grenada, Bosnia, Iraq, Iran) If it was really about human rights or right and wrong we would have taken on China years ago. It is about $$$. And $$ is not worth losing ONE DAMN LIFE over. When Republicans are in office, Democrats are programmed to nay say. When Democrats are in office, Republicans are programmed to nay say. I am in the same socioeconomic place I was at birth. I am not any better off no matter who is in office. So unless we really want to take up arms NOTHING is going to change. And it is not our political system that needs overhauling Democracy is a damn great idea. It's our economic system that needs overhauling capitalism sucks. Capitalism breeds poverty, Capitalism breeds haves and have-nots, which in turn breeds dissent, which keeps us busy with bullshit while no one asks the simple questions like is anyone hungry, cold, tired, scared. Let's fix that first. Capitalism runs this nation and this war is making $$$. End of story. My two cents?
In this country we don't train warriors, we train soldiers. Soldiers are fodder taught to take orders and go where pointed. Only Delta Squad, Special Ops, Seals and such receive any real training as warriors. They are taught to take the fight where it belongs: the enemy. Not someone else's backyard. America is a punk gang doing drive bys on someone else's turf and they will eventually bring it back to us. And most of the nation will be surprised. Sad, fucking sad. "
-the lovely lass (lj handle).

YEAH! WOO! SPEAK IT SISTER-GIRL! AAAAA-MEN!!!!!!!!!

If you like, you can read the threads of this at livejournal.com, geek patrol, friends; and you can also read my own geekcentric live journal there. I'm queenpie.
Thank you again Jen, for saying what I wouldn't.
-sam

I was driving home from work a few days ago and I was feeling low. Not bottom – I guess I’ve never really hit bottom, though I’ve been pretty damned deep – but low. As Esme and I started the climb up the hill-from-hell, my friend Mark rounded the curve on foot.

I pulled over to the side a little and rolled down the window. Mark’s face is always a welcome sight, no matter how low I am. He is a little older than me, about my height (which I like), he has beautiful dark brown eyes and a face that reminds me of my own. He is extremely intelligent (even by my standards) and he likes Funk. His life has also been interesting, complicated and troubled. And he likes me. Before Chris and I started ___ing*, I thought that Mark and I might give it a whirl, but time and tide waits for no man, and Fate has plans of her own. Mark asked me how I was doing and I said “Alright.” He just said “No.” I said “No, you’re right, I’m not alright.” And then he said something that rang in my heart like a gong in a temple – “How could you be?”

I’ve said that same thing again and again to friends and Chris and watched their faces take on the look of someone dealing with a crazy person, or get the glaze of ‘up, here she goes again’ or worst of all, the exasperated, ‘well what am I supposed to do about it?’ But here was another person resonating all of my own pain. I looked into his eyes and there it was, my heart and mind’s reflection.

Last week there was a terrible incident on my road. A young man - on bad, serious drugs - knocked on one of his neighbors’ doors after losing a lot of money at a house across the street from where two men, people he knew well, father and son, were watching tv. When the elderly man opened the door, the man shot him in the leg. He charged in with the gun, demanded money, made the son sit on the couch. He then shot the son at point blank range in the face and shot the father in the chest. The father is living, so far. The son is not.**

I’m ashamed that it took me as long as it did to make the connection but after seeing the deep hurt in his eyes I thought to ask him if the victims were his family. I’d suspected as much, but I hadn’t seen him to ask. He said yes, and began to pour out his heart in his way. His words echoed the ones I’ve spoken (what seems to be) a million times. He talked about his anger at the person who did this to his cousin and uncle, he talked about his anger at the justice system. He talked about the pain of thinking of his own daughter doing time in Iraq and his fear of that imminent phone call or word on the evening news. He talked about his loss of freedom and the horrible price of it, that our government can take so much from us and yet charge us so much for what we have – our sons and daughters, our rights. He talked about taking arms and rising up, using his own military training to take back his rights. More and more people – all kinds of people – speak to me of that every day.***

I said “Mark, you and I are so much alike.” And he said “More than you know.” He said that he had never in his life seen anyone as alive as me. He mentioned again, as he does each time we talk alone, that if it were not for timing, we might be together now, and before we parted he asked me if I believed in reincarnation****. I said “Why?” and he said “Because the next time – and that may be sooner than you know – I won’t let you get away…”

Coming from someone else, this might creep me out or make me laugh, but coming from Mark it was almost believable, and definitely a compliment. It made me want to have faith in something outside myself.

He told me one other thing that was very, very important, though. It was most bizarre and serendipitous timing too, because I’d been thinking a lot on this very subject and the possibly enormous role that it’s playing in my depression. He said that we could not deny our essential natures – he and I and people like us. He said that we were made as warriors and we are meant to carry our swords and shields till the day we die. I’ve been thinking so much about the way that this war has affected my normally, well, ‘scrappy’ nature. I’ve always been a fighter. It’s always been the one thing that kept me alive and whole. I’ve come to see the wrong in it, but I can’t see how to justify those two things. If I continue to fight, and seek violent ends to my means, then I am no better than Bush and Bin Laden and their thugs. How can I continue to support violence when I feel this way? But if I try to remain peaceful, they will mow me and all the others who feel this way down like wheat in a field, and we will be nothing but fodder.

No answers. No solutions. But at least I have another clue. And at least I know that there is someone out there who really knows how I feel, to the bone. I pass his house every day, at least twice a day, and now I make a point to pray each time. For his daughter in Iraq, for his own strength and good judgement, for the successful management of his pain, for justice for his family, for freedom, and for the willingness and ability to do what has to be done when the time comes.

Maybe there is someone else who truly understands and is driving by my own house twice a day, saying the same prayers for me. I hope so. I need them.

-s

*Skwooching? Cohabitating? Bickering? ‘Dating’ just doesn’t seem to cut it.

**please, before any of you judge all of my neighbors and neighborhood based on this horrible thing, I want you all to think of the fact that things like this have happened within my sphere all of my life, no matter where I’ve lived, many times within my own family. It’s not just Markham road, it’s not just these people.

*** The day before, I had a very intelligent, educated, peaceful, sane, cultured young man come and talk to me specifically about this issue and ask me where I stood. He made it clear that he would take up arms, and he – and quite a few others – said that he felt strongly that it might come down to martial law, militia and riots. There is no doubt that this country is clearly divided, and even though none of us want bad things to happen, the thought that nothing might happen, that we might lie down and accept this injustice AGAIN is worse.

****yes andi, second time that day.

My rant is sick, too.
It’s tired of being about the same old sad stuff – my illness, my anger, my restlessness and wanderlust, my depression, our evil national administration and the war*. It longs for the good old days of raising hell about small things and singing the praises of my friends. It wants to soar through descriptions of strange coincidences and exciting adventures. It’s tired of being hurt and angry. It desires the earthly passion of the praise of worthy bohunks and the celebration of all things sweet and light.
So you see, it’s not just you, or me that is fed up with the current state of the onion**. My rant has had it too. Requests are welcome. Write to my guestbook*** and give us some direction.
Much love,
-sam

*Please watch this video. I wish OUR country was this openminded.
**y'know, ogres, orcs and onions - we have layers, we smell bad, we make people cry.
***folks like, say, for example DAN and NIC, please remember that I reserve the right to refuse any request.

When I was about 19, I was living in a duplex on 25th avenue in Hattiesburg. I worked graveyard shift at the Tastee Donut, so I got the bedroom with no windows. My neighbors were a small family with big problems – I was often awakened by the sound of beatings, yelling and crying. My roommate was a sweet girl, but she was new to the local punk circle of “friends” that I was beginning to outgrow*, so the house was constantly plagued by drunk, drugged-out delinquents who were at least smart enough to stay away until I left each night, returning home each morning to a trashed house, often with passed out losers lying around and piss in my bed. I was miserable. I came very close to drinking myself to death during that time, and in fact – on September 11 – I overdosed and ended up spending some “quality time” in the same hospital where I was born.
During this time I was dealing with bronchitis, depression, I think I sprained an ankle during that year, and due to the drinking I lost a huge amount of weight and was actually smaller than I’d been since age 13. That’s what a bleeding ulcer and drinking two or (many) more of your 3 meals a day will do for you. Strangely enough, a lot of my “friends” kept telling me I’d never looked better. I still have one of those photo booth pictures taken during that time on my mantle to remind me of how dangerous irony can be, and of how people can see you every day and not know you at all…

My best friend and first love was also in the picture. Of course I was too selfish at the time – and for a long time after – to think what all of this must have been doing to him, and how it must have affected his respect for me. But he was still there, as much as he could stand to be and then some. He’d show up with soup on some days*, and other days he’d come and subtly try to sober me up with his good coffee and chocolate chip cookies. Some days, though, he’d try to talk sense into me, and if you think that’s a tough job NOW, you should have tried it when I was 19, drunk and mad at the world (Rory, you are a brave, selfless man. How could I not love you?)
On one particular day, we were sitting at the little table in my dining room/kitchen. My typewriter was there – at least I was trying to write. We were having coffee. I don’t remember exactly what we were talking about, but as I said, he was probably just trying to talk some sense into me. The one thing I do remember though, is that he said “…Sam, I probably know you better than you know yourself.” I don’t remember what I said (a mercy, most likely, but it was probably somewhere along the line of !@#$ YOU!…”) but I do remember that I flew into a rage and threw my typewriter. The one that papaw Joe gave me when I was 13. Poor Rory, Poor Shirley****…

Why did that make me so mad? Probably because, at that time, it was true. And I couldn’t accept that, because lack of self-knowledge (self-awareness, self-understanding) is a horrible, unforgivable weakness, at least in the Book of Sam. These days, I would be even angrier at such a pronouncement, but righteously so, and so calmer. I feel as if I know myself through and through now, learning more as each day passes. But knowing and handling are two completely different things. These days I would have to give Rory – and my other wise friends – credit for being able to see the forest for the trees.

I had a horrible, violent and painful meltdown the other night (ed. note, I started writing this over a week ago.). I haven’t done anything even remotely like that in a long time, and I have never done it in front of anyone else, or without any forethought. I talked my heart out to Chris afterwards, about everything that’s hurting me that I am currently conscious of. It definitely helped me to make more sense of it all. Chris is one of the sweetest, kindest, most understanding beaus I’ve ever had. But the fact of the matter is that sympathy only goes so far, and sometimes it is empathy that you need. Chris listened patiently, but there comes a point where you can see the light of understanding go out, and then you might as well be talking about a science fiction story. It’s not that he doesn’t want to listen and understand, it’s that, when you haven’t grown up in and lived a life of mental, emotional, and sexual abuse, neglect, torture, abandonment, betrayal, chaos, instability and madness, it’s hard to understand. And YAY for that. I’m GLAD that he and a lot of my beloved don’t have that kind of understanding. And luckily, you don’t have to have that kind of understanding in order to give comfort, and Chris – and all my good friends – are aces at that.

I stand by my belief that I know myself well, better than anyone else, though I have some friends that surprise me every day. And one of the things that I know is that it is unbelievably hard for me to ask anyone for any serious help. Small every day favors, things that are easily repaid, I can manage. But those deep down life things, like “can you talk me off this ledge?” or “will you give me a place to stay?” or “will you listen to my deepest, blackest pain and still love me and try to understand me better?”, I can’t do. Several of you have called or written or even said to my face lately that I am going to have to learn to do this. At least you all see this possibly fatal flaw, but how many of you really understand just how difficult this is for me. I think several of you have a good idea, and so I thank you for watching me, looking for the signs, and reminding me that I can ask, for anything.

I am grateful for you all taking the time to know me as well as you do, for trying to see the forest for the trees. Lately, I’ve not been feeling very worth it, so each reminder carries more weight than you know. My typewriter-throwing days may not be over, but I promise that I will never aim one at you.
Unless you deserve it.
;)
-s

*thank god.
**one day he and the only girlfriend he ever had that I liked***, beautiful, wild Michelle, came and made me soup and made me feel loved and included. Michelle’s smoky, latin-tinged voice was as much medicine as the visit and soup – chicken and noodle, lots of black pepper…
***though I haven’t met his fiancé Julia yet, I think I can add her to the list.
****my first typewriter and my second bike were called Shirley. Shut up, Jams.

Did you all know that I was born on the same day as Robert Plant*? I'll let him speak for me today. There is a huge amount of irony in this song, especially for those of you who know me well and know the story behind my latest tattoo...

"Leaves are falling all around, It's time I was on my way. Thanks to you, I'm much obliged for such a pleasant stay. But now it's time for me to go, the autumn moon lights my way, for now I smell the rain, and with it pain, and it's headed my way. Sometimes I grow so tired, but I know I've got one thing I got to do, I've got to ramble on, and now's the time, the time is now, to sing my song. I'm goin' 'round the world, I got to find my girl, on my way. I've been this way ten years to the day, I've got to ramble on, gotta find the queen of all my dreams. Got no time to for spreadin' roots, The time has come to be gone. And to our health we drank a thousand times, it's time to ramble on. Mine's a tale that can't be told, my freedom I hold dear. How years ago in days of old, when magic filled the air. T'was in the darkest depths of Mordor, I met a girl so fair. But Gollum, and the evil one crept up and slipped away with her, her, her....yeah. Gonna ramble on, sing my song. Gotta keep-a-searchin' for my baby... Gonna work my way, round the world. I can't stop this feelin' in my heart, Gotta keep searchin' for my baby. I can't find my bluebird!"

Sometimes, Zep just says it better, huh?
Who knows, maybe I'll never find my bluebird. But I'm guaranteed to never find it if I never look...
Longing for the grey ships,
-s

*and H.P. Lovecraft, too. 'Splains a lot, dunnit?

Here, listen to "Wagon Wheel", covered by Old Crow Medicine Show while you read this.

Today is a singular, perfect early Autumn day in the mountains. I walked to the bakery this morning. The birds were singing, the leaves are beginning to blush deep red and shine gold, and the sky looks like it was painted by a Wyeth. As I walked, first along the sidewalk and then along the tracks, people waved and smiled as they passed by, and I could smell the breakfast and lunch prep smells coming from all the little restaurants. It was so surreal, I felt like I was in a construct*. Not unhappy, but confused by the incongruity of my ongoing depression against the bas relief of this perfect-seeming place. It feels like a trick, almost. Like something meant to make you forget that people are dying for unjust causes, or worse, no reason at all; that the world is overloaded, aching and sick. And that I am floundering in limbo as far as making either a bigger difference in the world or a change for my own health and happiness. I am ashamed of feeling this way.
I felt physically better for a bit, no doubt about that. How could anyone be completely unhappy on such a perfect day? But the one moment that I felt my soul truly rise, and an almost forgotten lightness come to my heart was when I was looking down the railroad, to where it curved out of sight** between the trees. Down the mountain, south, to flat lands and pine trees and eventually, the coast - and then on from there. Aunt Sue doesn't call me 'Gypsy' for nothing.
It's not just me, either. There's a few folks in my family who settled down, mostly on my mama's side, but even most of them have moved and changed and wandered around all their lives. Some of them literally ran away from home, more than once. Many of them could never keep a 'straight' job, and the few who could settle down usually had to stake out a spot that was plenty isolated and able to be shut off from the world completely, if need be. My mother's father and mother settled in one place for most of their lives, but my Papaw spent his days constantly shifting between the river, roads, fields and woods. And my Mamaw, who never learned to drive, spent her days wishing that she could. She hounded me about learning to first ride a bike - she taught me herself - and then to drive***, because she knew.

Yesterday morning, heading down the hill to work, I saw a glimpse of big wings against the sky through a widening gap in the trees. I am always searching the skies for signs of flight, I love and envy all birds, even the ones who swim instead of fly, and so I rushed ahead to see them cross the road. It was a flight of canadian geese, my geese, in full formation, flying very low toward the pond. They were about to land, so I knew that if I hurried I would get to see them touch down on the water. I goosed the gas (haha, "goosed"...****) and swung into the curve by the pond just in time to see the point goose touch down and the other 31 right behind. It was beautiful, I felt like they'd done it just for me.
I've had several starling mornings lately, too. They've taken to roosting in the trees on the hillside across the road from my house, out near the hammock. Usually right after I get out of the tub I hear them coming. I rush out of the back door, and stand on the step in my towel and watch them fly over, thousands of small black cutouts against the slice of crystal morning blue between my roof and the dog wood tree. I look up, dizzy from flock-sound, bath-heat and early-head, and my heart goes with them, black-winged, every time. As much as I love to hear them roosting near, I'm always a little sad to think that they've settled, even for a little while, when they could just fly, fly, fly...
And then I come back in and start my day, put on my armor in layers of smoke and fabric, pick up my million weights, bookbag, phone, accoutrement and keys, and go face another day in the cage.

-s

* I wish sometimes that I'd never seen 'The Matrix'.
**this is almost EXACTLY the spot where I was
***my papaw tried to teach me and failed. this man was seemingly afraid of NOTHING, but nonetheless he gripped the dashboard, white-knuckled, while i attempted to maneuver his Scamp over the little one-lane tie and tin bridge at approximately 8 miles an hour. I was 23 before I got my license.
****that one was for Hamilton

The Wonderful Women in My Circle
(This is one of those e-mail fwds again, but one that really struck a nerve with me, since my girls have been helping me get through this rough time. I changed it a little to share here. Feel free to do the same.)

When I was little, I use to believe in the concept of one best friend,
and then I started to become a woman. I then found out that if you allow
your heart to open up, the Universe will show you the best in many friends. One
friend's best is needed when you're going through things with your man (Ninka, Andi, Sallie...).
Another friend's best is needed when you're going through things with your
Mother (Buffy...). Another when you want to shop (Sarah, Emily...), share (Jen...), heal (All of them...), hurt (CG), joke (Sandy, Heather...), or just be (again, all...).

One friend will say let's pray together (Aunt Sue and Peggy...), another let's cry together (Andi...), another let's fight together (Buffy and Jen...), another let's walk away together (Karly...) One friend will meet your spiritual need (Heather, Maite...), another your shoe fetish (Liz...), another your love for movies (Andi, Nink...), another will be with you in your season of confusion (Ninka), another will be your clarifier (Buffy...), another the wind beneath your wings (Aeryn, Sprout...). But whatever their assignment in your life, on whatever the occasion, on whatever the day, or where ever you need them to meet you with their gym shoes on and hair pulled back or to hold you back from making a complete fool of yourself... those are your best friends.

It may all be wrapped up in one woman, but for many it's wrapped up in several... one from 7th grade (Sandy, Pam...), one from high school (Margo, Leann...), several from the college years (Melody...), a couple from old jobs (Carol...), several from church (ummm...), on some days your mother (well, other people's mothers - Peggy, Helen...), on others your sisters (Mandy, Karly...), and on some days it's the one that you needed just for that day or week that you needed someone with a fresh perspective (Sallie...), or the one who didn't know all your baggage (Bonnie...), or the one who would just listen without judging (Kathy...)... those are good girlfriends/best friends.

Men are wonderful, husbands are excellent, boyfriends are awesome, male friends are priceless... but if you've ever had a real good girlfriend, then you know there's nothing like her. I thank the Goddess for girlfriends, those who honor intimacy, those who hold trust, and those who cover your back when you feel like life is just too heavy. I thank the Goddess for you. The special bond we share, that's unique to us. The words we've shared. The prayers we've sent up. The laughs, the tears, the phone calls, the emails, the shopping, the movies, the lunches, the
dinners, the late night talks, afternoon talks, the weekend talks, all the talking, talking, talking and the listening, listening, listening...

So whether you've been there 20 minutes or 20 years, I love you! Pass this on to the women who make a difference in your life! I just did

This morning I passed the little silver-rippled pond at the bottom of my hill and the geese were back, 32 of them. That’s the most I’ve seen there so far. After that spring and summer two years ago, watching the little family struggle after they lost one of their four babies, I began to regard them as a symbol of the prosperity of my own friends and family. I’ve watched them and rooted for them all along, and you all know how excited I was this last spring when all 6 of my little gosling friends survived, and then I got to see the family reunion of 17. And now the pond is Goose Central… like Bruffy’s house when we all get together. All of our little families are doing well. Aeryn just turned one (MOO! bookiebookiebookie, that little monkie was SO cute in her Aunt Sam prezzie embroidered Chinese silk jimmies!!!) on Thursday and Andi is settling into adept mommy-hood with amazing skill and grace. Elsa will be one in just a couple of weeks, and Steve and Allie are adding nice big rooms onto William and Osa’s old place. Will’s little Emily just had her christening and is growing like a weed; and speaking of growing, our Sprout is big and beautiful and smart and all the things we suspected. That kid’s gonna’ be weird – but hey, that’s how we like ‘em! :) Jen and Burt got hitched at con, and graced me with the honors of literally tying the knot, and they are both doing well work-wise. Silas is getting big and climbing like a monkey, and Tam and Stephanie just got married last Saturday in a truly sweet ceremony. Buffy’s job has shifted into something more lucrative and pleasing to her soul, and they are all doing well and not only coping with all of their own life-stuff, but steadily supporting their ‘adopted’ folks. Stewart has been promoted and is co-managing the paper now (along with Jody, who he loves and respects and admires and works well with) and things are much smoother there now. He also hired Jamie and Erin, so bringing bounty into their lives when both of them had been without work for sometime. And earlier this week, I got the news that my beloved crow-brother and his lady love are nine weeks into their own pregnancy, after having a tough time a while back. Blessed be.
I believe with all my heart (and that’s a lot of heart) that these folks all deserve these kinds of blessings, and many many more. I think that all the good things that come to these folks are the result of the ‘threefold law’, and they are just reaping what they’ve sown.
The thing I notice about all of these parents – despite my feelings about overpopulation and adoption – is that these are all people who deserve to have children; people who are truly capable of loving and caring for a child; and most importantly, people who will raise children that will make a positive difference in this world in a big way. I will be a very lucky girl indeed if I am able to watch these children grow into themselves and witness their wonders.
As sad as I am, as sick as I get, these things give me hope. I hope they do the same for all of you. Friends, when you feel exasperated with your own lives, remember that you are a source of hope for someone else.
Much love,
-s

Well, the good news is - my bloodwork is sterling. The bad news is - I am still sick, my migraine has settled in for a long haul, it seems, and my 'asthma' issues are still present. I'm still weak, but I've found that eating makes me veryvery sluggy and brings on The Pain. Also, either the meds or the allergies or the general feeling of yuk have squashed my appetite to death, so that's a sort of happy accident, eh?
so, I've got a dentist appointment on Monday, I am going in for routine stuff, but I am going to talk to him about the possibility of deteriorating fillings making me sick, and what might be done there, and also about tmj. I've had a lot of jaw pain, and there is some misalignment (I am developing an underbite). That could definitely be tied in with my neck, head and jaw pain. Then on Tuesday I have an appointment with an allergy and immunology specialist.
is this not !@ #$ ridiculous?

last night I reached a bit of a meltdown point in my depression over all of this. I've been thinking a lot about how hopeless the whole circle seems - my job and home are making me sick, I can't afford to take care of myself or move without the job, I'm spending my days sad and sick and thinking that this is how I will be hacking out my middle years, sick, in pain and working a job that keeps me sick in order to be able to almost afford healthcare (my insurance is basically shite) and when I do get time to breathe and play, I am too sick and weak to enjoy it. If my health is ruined now - and I somehow make it to retirement age - will I just sit in a chair and die slow and horrible and sad like my father?
sicksicksicksicksick!#$*&!SICK.
needless to say, my insurance doesn't cover psychiatric counseling, either.

I told Christopher last night that, if I knew I had the courage to 'do away with myself' at the end of a year, then I would drop EVERYTHING in a !#$% heartbeat, pack up my truck and my dog and take off. I would drive around the country - finally - and fulfill at least some extent of my dream of travel. I would visit old friends and draw to my hearts' content, I would have no regrets and I would never look back because there would be no future to worry about, no family to let down because I foolishly left the first "security" I've ever had - the only cage would be my own limitations, and those bars are flexible. But all that would be incumbent on my being able kill myself at the end of the year. THIS IS NOT A WARNING OR A THREAT, FOLKS.
this is me honestly sharing my thoughts and feelings. I wouldn't do that to any of you, to Aeryn and Sprout and Abe and Risa and Stewart and Chris and...
it comes down to this. I am not living for my own future. I never have. I have never had any kind of realistic hope of idea of a future for myself. The only future I've ever dreamed of seems more and more impossible the older I get, the sicker I get, the more tied down I get, and that's my dream of world exploration. Not luxe travel, just travel. Being on the road (or rail or water or in the air), seeing new things, seeing the places I've dreamed of, from junky tourist traps to the eight wonders. The only other thing that I've ever lived for was other people. My friends and family who, although they don't need me, they would be very sad and hurt if I were gone, especially by my own choice.
now that I am in pain 90% of the time, and have been sick for over a month, with no end in sight,
the thought that I either stay in this job and house that have become toxic to me or quit and become a welfare vegetable is killing me. And I promise y'all that depression is doing NADA to make this all better.

but I will not leave you all with nothing but a little ball of sadness and worry - I love y'all (and myself) too much for that. In talking all this out with Chris last night, trying to tell him how bad
I really feel, that I am not just body sick but heart and mind sick - life sick - depressed and memory-haunted, frustrated and afraid that I will never achieve any of my personal dreams,
I hit on an idea. An actual possible escape route. Something that could even possibly end in the kind of security and freedom that I hope for only in my fantasies. Not BIG, but MINE.
I don't want to say anymore yet, not until I have a clearer idea of the actual possibility of it all.
but please wish me luck, or pray for me, or whatever you believe.
I just can't go on like I am now.

-s

I haven't been posting because I've been veryvery sick.
Am waiting for bloodwork results now, but I suspect that it's an allergy specialist for me...
FEMA is coming to assess the library damage tomorrow, all the carpet will have to go, and there will have to be walls and etc. replaced in order to clean out all the mold and mildew. This !@#$ sucks. Sorry for the language folks, but that's the marrow of it.
I have not - will not - abandon thee, my folks. Please do the same for me.
-s