I haven't played reversi in over a week!

Last night, I painted my face for my Halloween costume and intended to go out.  Then I realized that no one had told me when the official day for Halloween was.

Monday is the day but Saturday is the day it should be.  I went late to the animal hospital.  The doctor was there.  She didn't care that I was late.  "I think it's better for the dogs," she said.  Then she invited me to her house for dinner.  She's sweet like that.  She said that everyone else at her house was sitting down to eat when she had to go to the hospital to help some folks out with their pet.

I paid no attention to what she was doing but went to the kennel.  I was late for a very important date.  There were only 5 or 6 dogs so it went fast.

Then I came back to my parent's house for a short bit and then went out to my favorite of the three gay bars in the next county.  (I think one is only gay on Tuesday.  LOL) 

There are two full-time gay bars.  One has had many gay incarnations.  I liked it best when it had couches to lounge on.  If I have a comfortable place to sit, I'm good. 

But I digress. So I went in and had to remove my mask to gain access.  I got water and a seat and ogled people.  The show started and I watched a few routines, then I left.

There was a dark angel seated before me, a lovely girl, but large.  I was tempted to flirt but big girls are always breaking my heart because of all their personal issues.  It's time to let a thinner woman crush me, just to prove it's all relative.

The whole point of this damn journal is to release everything, to empty my soul, regardless.   To hold nothing back.

The other part of the secret, in hindsight, is to not tell anyone you personally know about it.  I realize that now.

Library co-workers know my innermost heart.   Thatmakes me... vulnerable.

Initially Cristy was wowed by the things I revealed.  Now I bet she doesn't even read me.  I'm just lucky that she is still a very caring friend who would do just about anything within reason for me.  She and her family are a great comfort to me and I try not to take too much advantage of it although if you let me sprawl on your couch and you play with my hair, like Cristy and her mom do... well... that can only encourage more lounging.  Then you always feed me when I come over and you might as well put a collar on me.

The Bird used to call me her "pet neighbor."

 

Today I lolled in bed until about ten watching a light-hearted movie called "Saving Face" (about two successful Chinese-American lesbians in Flushing, NY), then I decided that maybe I could get my computer up and running instead of attempting to use the ones downstairs belonging to my parents.

I found a friend online and asked her to meet me for lunch.  That was nice and I'm happy that she said "Okay" when I asked her.   It's good to have single friends who can be free somewhat spontaneously.

I haven't heard from Em and I really don't know if things are really bad for her, if she's sick again or, worst case, she's blowing me off.  I can't let myself go nuts again over someone hurting me.  The good thing about Em is that she never said "I love you."  She never gave me false hope, though she did say that there would be times when we could actually have more time together.

Tomorrow is Halloween and I'm going to join my friends and be the werewolf.  With little kids around, it'll be all the more fun.  Then it's back to the grindstone.  I have two weeks coming up with no day off.  Yikes!  If I don't write in my journal before the end of November, you'l know I dropped dead from exhaustion.

 

I realized something the other day, which is:  why heterosexuals mostly have sex at night.  Because men fall asleep....

It took me this long?  Oh, brother!

 

(OK, yeah, I've fallen asleep after, too....)

 

The Princess Dream

This morning I had an unusual dream.  I was talking to a woman who apparently had been a landlady of mine at some point in the past.  We were just sitting and talking about things and she was telling me what happened to various people in the area since I left.

A tall, thinnish woman leaned in and greeted her and saw me and said, "I'll talk to you later," and ducked back out.  She said the woman's name.  The first name was familiar but the last name was different than I remembered.

I think I asked if she was formerly known as so-and-so and she said, "Yes.  She married herself a princess."

I was kind of blown away at that.  "What???"

"Yeah, she met a princess when she went to... (I forget where she said.  It was someplace sub-tropical... perhaps somewhere in the Keys.)

"And they got married???  WOW."

I sat quietly and pondered it for a moment... the dream faded some and the barking of the scottie dogs from the yard next door woke me.

Dreams sometimes mean something and sometimes are just the product of the brains disposal system.  Lately though, the only dreams I remember remembering had some significance.  This dream, I think, was just the by-product of my wish for an old someone.

 

I still haven't been able to reach my newer someone.  God only knows what's happened to her.  All I can do is wait.

6253

Was it Wilma or is it us?

I can't tell if we've all been hardened a little, or if Wilma, who did indeed kick some arse, was just not all that bad.

Oh, there's destruction and difficulty here to be sure, but somehow... it just doesn't seem to matter as much.

A lot of people are saying that Wilma was worse than last years "Spin Sisters," but  I'm thinking they just forget easily.

Much of the recovery is going more smoothly, in my opinion anyway.  Maybe it's just because we had an idea of what to expect this time around.  Maybe it's because the physical landscape was already decimated.  Maybe it's because we now realize that ignorance was the cause of some of our suffering before.

I went to Cristy's this evening and saw that they had sliced their screens to let the wind blow through.  Cristy had footage of the fury of the wind whipping the torn screen and blowing the treetops horizontally eastward.

I woke up worn out.  I think the shock of getting back to a somewhat normal state in a matter of three days after the hurricane, coupled with the anxiety and the crazy day we had Wednesday running errands and dealing with the car had something to do with it.

This time, I'm not that upset about not being in my own humble rental.  I'm comfortable at Dad's, having taken over my sister's room.  I paid next month's rent even though I won't be there for a while.  Someone else might request a break in the rent but I believe that a landlord will be good to you as long as you show respect and pay the bill.

Come to think of it, I really want to do something nice for the guy who found the wire in the first place.

I should be upset but today I was happy.  I can't help but feel fortunate right now.  I have what I need to survive.   My car is running.  My landlord was out to the trailer fairly soon after the storm.  My job is still there.  Losing a day's work was so worth taking precautions to keep the car from burning up.  My friends are okay.  There are gas lines but we still seem to have plenty of the stuff around.  I had a warm shower this morning.  I'm feeling blessed.

For the record, if you live along a coast and are in a gas shortage... try a marina.  The gas costs more but there aren't likely to be any lines.

***************************************************************

Today after work I stopped home.  I was heading back out when I saw a woman pushing her car off of US 1.  I couldn't stop to help her because it wasn't safe but I swung back around and reached her after she had pushed the car into the sand and was starting to walk away.

I pulled up behind her and turned on my hazard lights.

"Do you need a phone?"   She started walking back toward me and we met.  She refused the phone but caught herself from crying when she said, "Could you just give me a ride home?"

I dumped my refugee debris out of the front seat and she got in.

"Hi, I'm Jean.  I work at the library."

"I''m Pat, I'm a hairdresser at a shop in _______."

"That's ironic.  Just moments ago I was thinking I need a haircut."

"Sure.  That's the least I could do, " she answered.

I thanked her but refused, saying that I had things to do.

So I drove her home and let her out and went on my way.

I wonder if I'll ever even see her again.

Of the fews things I know to be true, the idea that we have to help each other is in the soup.

And here's a toast to the power company guys both local and out-of-state.  I beep and "blink" and carry on when I see them.    Love your work, buddies.

And my thoughts also go out tonight to the sick, the poor, the people still dealing with this huricane's mess and healthcare workers...  Bless 'em.

I was surprised tonight to find bread in the grocery store. : o    Lucky me.

"like being in a blender"

That's how one of my co-workers described the sensation of watching hurricane Wilma from half-boarded windows.

Thanks, we're okay.

Yeah, it was worse than predicted but crossing the warm Gulf of Mexico is enough to get one's blood up.

Floridians are tougher now, wiser.

Gas lines. Emptying grocery stores.  An all-day parade of people in line for ice and whatever food there is from the National Guard.  Communication fiascoes. 

It feels like a miracle to be typing into my journal.

I'll be out of my trailer for a while.  Wilma walloped my water system and ate my awnings.  She made the carpet damp but not squishy.

My landlord came over and took out what was left of the shed, all but one of my trees and cranked off one of the majestic arms of my shady oak AND threw out my faithful, innocuous leafy plant that's been valiantly growing for six years AND my lily AND the humongous staghorn fern which was probably worth thousands.  Alas, alas.  Gonna do that might as well put in astroturf.   That might be the worst of it all for me.

The door switch on my car started beeping when the door was open.  Because of that, I wore out my battery leaving the lights on.  I had to get a new battery.  Replacing the battery triggered the car alarm to go off again.  My remote fobs for the alarm were bad which led to me getting my car alarm pulled. That adventure led the alarm tech to discover exposed wire which would have created one charred AOL blogger. (I didn't mention the tow truck driver.  Here's to him, and the battery guy and the alarm guy.)

You never know where your blessings are hidden. 

 

Now if I can only reach my Em.

Update: Waiting for Wilma

Four carloads.

I went back this morning for the refrigerated food and a few final things, including my bargain kitty litter and the fan that pushes air through my house.  I gave up and left my Fiestaware in the china cabinet and in the dish drainer.  I'm tired of the overwhelmment of things. As an afterthought, I turned around and went back to bag up my DVDs and some favorite videotapes.

I was thinking that if tornadic activity blows away the trailer that I rent and all the rest of the stuff of our old lives, maybe I could stay here.  If there's no rent, I could save up for one of those small trailers to squeeze my stuff into to haul along every time I need to evacuate.  One trip.  Easy.

The county is closed Monday.  That means I will work all week. ---> Grumble.

Now I'm "hunkered down" in my father's house.  If I hadn't spoken, he would still be blasting minute-by-minute coverage of the storm.  I hate senseless noise.  It's not as if you can do anything about it.

I'd rather be home, thinking about whatever I'd be thinking about and probably staying in bed trying to compose something wonderful and petting my cat when she comes close.  Instead, my cat is upstairs in a closed room due to the collie who loves to snuffle for nuggets and bark at alien life forms.  Unfortunately, the extra "baby gate" went to college with my younger sister's cat.

I had a phone message from my older sister at home this morning.  Some message about how I must be out having fun on a Saturday night.  Yeah, evacuating myself was a blast.

I did go over late to the Halloween party put on by one of the receptionists from the animal hospital.  Not knowing that the party was back on by 4 in the afternoon on Saturday, I loaned my costume to the library branch manager for her daughter who had just found out about a Harry Potter-themed party. 

My costume is not a Harry Potter costume per se, but a similar character is in the books.  I'm sorry I am not at liberty to divulge what my costume is because I want it to be a surprise to my friends when I finally do get to wear it.

I had a black mask and my friends provided a black cloak and a pair of sparkly red horns.  Suddenly I was the devil in disguise. (Do ya hear Elvis?)

I don't know what to do next.  Go backto sleep or take advantage of the luxury of being where there is a bathtub! 

I know.  Take a bath, go hibernate with the cat in the central air, and read a book.

Yeah. 

Judi... Thank you.  I don't talk to you as often as I could, but I always appreciate your kind comments.  (My "prize" was in the very first carload.  I'm so glad that I hadn't thrown out your packaging.  It was a drag to be taking it off display to go on the run again.)

 

6195

on being planted, on being a plant OR it's not easy being green, but it's not that hard, either

http://journals.aol.com/judithheartsong/newbeginning/entries/1601

  Ya' know, when I was a kid, that was on a poster in the hall of my Sunday School.  It was "Bloom where you are planted" and I thought about it quite a lot.  To me, it meant to thrive whatever your situation, to make the best out of whatever you got. 

I was hoping I'd spring up and be as gloriously mature and happy as I aged as I thought my sister (five years older than me) and her friends were.   I'm still waiting to bloom, but maybe I have in someone else's eyes.   That poster's thoughts didn't kill me though.  As I grew from 13 to 30 on a patch of land full of wildflowers, native plants and tall pines, I thought less about being the image of someone else and more about standing tall and being strong and healthily "green."
 Each plant and tree was beautiful of itself and together the trees and shrubs and flowers complemented and complimented each other.
Have I bloomed where I was planted?  Well, ... some days I flow.  Some days everyone seems to adore me.  It's all about the others blooming around me though.  Without them, I can't see myself.  My co-workers, my buddies and even you show me myself.  You'd think that would be enough to lift me to a higher plane.  It should.

Now I have a younger sister, thanks to my father remarrying.  I watch her.  She's pretty and smart and so wise at 20 that she has advised me how to cope with some things.  Me!  Nineteen years difference in our ages.  Yet I see in her DOUBT and I wish that there was a magic remedy. 

She doesn't think she's pretty because she is big, I mean genetically healthily Germanically tall and full.  There's no Barbie doll in her.  Boys hit on her and she shrugs it off.  Her romantic experiences are just that to her.  I don't think she feels worthy and yet she can be so very stuck up. 

It hurts me seeing her doubt her worth. She has always had money, I never have had much.  That doesn't make any difference between us.  We both are valuable, loving people.  We are both "worthy" of everything.   We both have something to offer.

She can charm a crowd and seems to flow through a room like a fresh breeze, stopping to shine on each person in the room.  She holds court with this little group and that as I stand by, just awed by her ability not only to talk to anyone but to impress them.

Me, I don't do crowds.  I don't speak freely.  I will talk to people but if I'm not comfortable, I won't talk much. I am generally content to stand back and be helpful to the hostess.  If there's something to do as a group, I participate and add to the fun.  I know my presence is appreciated by those who know me because they tell me so.  People who don't really know me may have a negative perception and think me anti-social... until they are around me long enough to know that I'm just quiet, not stupid or totally boorish. 

I am somewhat boorish at times more as a reaction to superficiality than a result of ill-breeding.  I can't help it.  I own disdain for things that waste my time, like a smile and seeming interest when you can feel that the person attending you is not for real.  My feeling is if you don't like me and don't want to know me, leave me alone!  However, if you can see me and want to see more of me, come on over ... kick your shoes off.  Let's walk together.

When you meld with someone, when what you share seems to fill you, when it's as if you were creating flowers and trees, walking through a white page and leaving a trail of color...  Ahhhh.

That's when I feel myself open my petals.

 

 

6180

"I get by with a little help from my friends."

http://journals.aol.com/judithheartsong/newbeginning/entries/1595

This is all you really need to know about me. Without you, I'm less than whole.

I look to my friends for spiritual uplift, advice, companionship, moral support, understanding and grace.

Affection is in the way I'm greeted by my friends and the way Cristy tilts her head and looks at me when I join the gang on her couch.

 Cristy

Friendship is implied in the "flippant" or "sassy" banter between me and the library's branch manager, or in the way the children's librarian always teases me about "paybacks" when I torment her with playful verbal jabs. Friendship is Josh and Joe IMing me at 11 p.m. on a weeknight.

I didn't understand friendship when I was a child. It seemed to me that everyone should always love each other. It was hard to comprehend that people come and go in your life. I thought they all were keepers. I thought we all were family. There was a very wise child that I worked with at a local elementary school who pointed out that the word friend has an "end" in it.

Friendship has been defined as a single soul inhabiting two bodies. I wouldn't go that extreme, but I would say that there is definitely a psycho-spiritual connection between people that draws them together.

Being befriended saved my life. I cannot envision where I might be today if I hadn't been guided by other young lesbians when I left for college at the age of 17. They became my surrogate family. They gave me a reason to keep going. They taught me that I wasn't a freak and that I wasn't alone. They taught me that I didn't have to accomplish everything on my own and also that I was capable of doing much more than I thought I could in the way of self-reliance. They wanted to be there for me. They didn't ask me for anything. They gave me shelter, they fed me, body and soul. They took me with themwhen they ran errands from our woodsy, small town campus into civilization. They loaned me books that filled me with pride in what we were. They gave me the words for the things I felt, the things I wanted, the things I needed. They gave me the word for myself. I'd always felt it, but I didn't know how to say it. Once I learned the words, they helped me learn to say them and claim them as my own. More than kindness and nurturing, simply having them in my life saved my life.

 That's me on the left, on top of a mountain in Maine, checking out the map with Henry, Bruce and Sue Q.  circa 1984 +/-

If you read my journal you know that I am a natural-born brooder.  I believe in chaos theory and negative entropy; that is, that there is order in the universe though it seems disordered and that life drives itself to continue into the future. In spite of myself and the depression I fight, I try to see what there is to be happy about and when I look it is the people in my life, and the natural world, that causes me to respire and fill my heart with more energy to keep pumping.

It is my friends who tell me that they are disgusted by the way I allow my girlfriends to treat me but support my right to make a fool of myself again and again. It is my friends who thank me for writing, thank me for loving them.

When I look at the person I was in college, truth-bending, selfish and anal, I wonder at how they just kept on loving me. I don't know if I would have put up with me.

It was my friends who brought me out of my shell and onto a stage to recite my poetry. It was my friends who taught me to dream with my eyes open and to see without tunnel vision.

It is my friends who continue to teach me how to live and be human. I had a friend, Jennifer, who lived by a sign in her room, "Feed my lambs." She told me, "We are all each other's host and each other's guest." It was Ivan G. at college who told me, "We are all the same."

I find my friends everywhere I look. I have local true blue hang-out friends and chat friends and journal friends and work friends and a lover-friend and customer friends and stranger friends. I had the warmest chat today with a lady I was in line with at an office supply store. I noticed that in her 70s she had the humor to wear a silver medallion inscribed with "What if the hokey-pokey is really what it's all about?" She's my kind of people. I may never see her again but we shared kinship for 10 minutes and it made us both feel good.

It reminds me not only of the Beetles' song from which this essay takes it's title but also of one of the closing scenes of themovie made from one of my favorite books, "Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe" by Fannie Flagg.

In the movie Jessica Tandy, as Virginia "Ninny" Threadgoode, is standing on the main road through Whistle Stop, Alabama. Kathy Bates, as Evelyn Couch, is helping Ninny come to terms with losing her home and telling Ninny that she has a home with Evelyn and her husband.

The story is multi-layered and at it's heart is the value, richness and catharsis of story-telling.

The two women find a fresh jar of honey and a note from Idgie on the Ruth's grave.

((And by the way, if you think Ninny and Idgie are one and the same you really weren't paying attention.))

"Do you know what I think life is about?," says Ninny. "Friends. Best friends."

I go for that.

It reminds me, too, of the recurring theme of the old television series, "Xena, Warrior Princess." 

 

Xena didn't need her friends, except to save her soul from eternal loneliness and damnation. 

Over and over again, it's repeated in the final seasons: "Love is the way."

That's what I'm saying.

"No man is an island,no man stands alone
Each man's joy is joy to me
Each man's grief is my own
We need one another, so I will defend
Each man as my brother
Each man as my friend"

The Laws of Life

My stepsister won this essay contest in her senior high school year and big bucks for college.  I can't remember the sponsors name but he started the Friendly's restaurant chain.

  Enjoy.

Laws of Life Essay Grand Prize Winner 2003

Thanksgiving Day is defined as an American national holiday, set apart for giving thanks to God, celebrated on the fourth Thursday in November.  Today society has acclaimed "Thanksgiving" as time spent with the family to celebrate the first shared dinner in 1606 by Pilgrims and Wampanoag Indians at Plymouth Rock, Massachusetts.  As a family holiday, it represents a time to cherish love for family and each other.  The day is celebrated with a meal of roasted turkey, sweet and mashed potatoes, green bean casserole and other various foods that have been made into the "traditional feast."  However, not all American families are the same.  For me and my family Thanksgiving is not traditional.

My heritage is typical -- white middle class with an extended family.  I would guess that most of my peers and their family have no idea what it is like to be a minority; especially at Thanksgiving. But, for me being a minority is not that unusual.  My mother, a wonderful person, who is enchanted by other cultures as well as being a magnificent historian, has made such family traditions and holidays different from what American society would call normal suburban holidays.  Before I was born she was involved with cultural education at the Brighton Seminole Reservation, seventeen miles west of Okeechobee, Florida.  She met and came to love this unique culture and met some of the most incredible people -- like the Jones family.  Shula, an elder Florida Seminole, the matriarch of her clan, took to my mother and graciously gave our family an introduction into her culture.

Each Thanksgiving, ever since I can remember, has been spent with this wonderful family.  This Thanksgiving holiday is not exactly what everyone else experiences.  It's hard to do the same traditional things when you're 40 miles from normal civilization, and in a completely different culture.  Our host, Shula Jones is the mother of eight, grandmother and great-grandmother to dozens of children, and is the oldest of the Jones branch of the Panther Clan.  Her large family gathers for one week in the Florida hammocks camping and experiencing nature and family at its fullest.  I remember when I was younger the feeling of resentment that I had toward my mother.  I was ignorant and spoiled to think that being the only white girl was uncomfortable and weird.  I definitely did not understand the privilege of my experience.  I wanted my life to be like the movies and TV shows portrayed it to be.  You know the traditional family Thanksgiving spent around a huge dining table, with an abundance of television, family and food.  Instead I was freezing my tail off in a distant land with a distant culture, and the only thing I could do was sit by the fire and wish I had dark skin, black hair, and could understand the Creek language.  For years this is what I thought of my not-so-traditional Thanksgiving.

I now realize my experiences with the Seminole Indians are truly a treasure that should be shared.  My first memory was watching the elders cook sofkee over the large cooking fire in the middle of the tall cooking chickee in the middle of the camp.  Young children playing with baby animals and running happily to and fro, while their young parents (most my age) laugh and share stories.  The first night is spent setting up the campsite.  Men get the hunting gear ready and the women pitch tents or settle into their chickee, the traditional Seminole dwelling built of cypress poles, thatched palm frond roof and a raised floor.  I guess you can say that not much has changed in the traditional Seminole setting.  Teenagers bring out the four-wheelers and the horses.  Our family, of course is different.  We bring tons of packing equipment, a camper trailer, two tents and lots of things to keep us occupied for five days.  I guess it's the "white man" for you: too much, too often and too wasteful!  The first night my brother and I usually keep mostly to ourselves because of racial differences.  We are, for the first time, a minority.

By the second day, we settle in and enjoy being part of the group. Nights are spent in a big party.  The men hunt, or drive around in the big swamp buggies looking for game, while the women talk around the never ending camp fire, and the children find different ways to busy themselves, mostly playing "manhunt" or hide and seek in the dark.  The festivities go all night and the party doesn't end until the last person falls asleep -- usually when morning breaks and the breakfast cooking begins.  Racial differences are put aside, and we all come together and have a great tine, just being friends and family.

The following days are spent tending to cattle, fishing, and swimming in the old mine pit.  Not being much of a cattle person, I tried to help as much as I could in rounding up the young calves, all destines to become steers.  After rounding up the calves, young boys straddle the poor, castrated calves and ride until they fall off.  This I must say, is an odd tradition, but one that is cherished and honored just as much as those traditions of eating turkey and watching television.

When Thanksgiving Day arrives we, just as other families do, gather children, friends and elders for a shared meal.  For so many years I spent this day ignorantly whining to myself that I didn't know what I was eating.  The various types of cultural foods were not at all strange to the wonderful people that I was eating with, and that was when I realized that it doesn't matter what foods are on the table, or who you are with, it was my mother's lesson -- the gift of acceptance.  She taught me that it didn't matter what you ate, who you prayed to, or what color your hair and skin is because people will love you for who you are, and that your race is just something that helps make who you are not what you are.

So, this past Thanksgiving as I departed from my friends and wished them well, until next year, I left with the greatest lesson in my life.  Throughout my life something extraordinary has happened. I began to grow up and realize while sitting by a campfire under a palm thatched chickee, I was participating in something that not many (non Indian) people get to experience. and that this is truly special.  My mother taught me a most important lesson, one which should be spread throughout the world: To accept other cultures, and avoid the feeling of trying to be the norm and embrace other traditions and values.

That acceptance of all cultures is, in my opinion, the most important Law of Life, because if you don't first accept who you are then embrace the culture and lifestyles of others, then that sets you back and sets the world back.  For it is cultural intolerance that is the basis of so many world issues, and I know that just the smallest thing helps.  Whether it is volunteering for social reform, working for the underprivileged, or just embracing another culture, it will bring the world closer and makes life a little more enjoyable for all.  It is also my opinion that many of the world's problems could be solved if people just exercised what my mother taught me to believe; that acceptance of other cultures and embracing others is as true as being yourself.

In conclusion, I would like to thank my mother for the greatest Law of Life, and for those who allowed me to grow as a person and make me understand that it doesn't matter what society claims to be a tradition, it's the family that makes it and a single person who embraces it.

Where is she?

Last night my sister in college IMed to tell me she had dreamt that I got married.

  (Just a plug for her school.)

She said that everyone was very happy for me and naturally her mother was all over the place, tending to things and chatting with everyone.

She said my bride was, I forget the exact words, but she was appealling and sweet.

Hmmm.  I don't think of my sister as visionary.  I've never known her to be psychic at all.

The idea of it, the ideal of it... makes my heart ache.  I've begun to lose hope that anyone will ever love me enough for that sort of relationship.

The woman I'm seeing seems very fond of me, but she doesn't love me.  I know it when I hear it and I believe in saying it often.  I've held back from saying it more to this one.  Once bitten....  She just laughs when I tell her I love her.  I think she is content just to have me to talk to.  My rose petal peach skin heart just takes it all too hard.

Anyway...

wasn't it lovely?  My young step-sister dreams about my happiness.

It just made me think about a song Elvis sang in one of his movies.  I think it was "Roustabout."

Follow that dream, I gotta follow that dream
Keep a-movin, move along, keep a moving
I've got to follow that dream wherever that dream may lead
I've got to follow that dream to find the love I need

When your heart gets restless, time to move along
When your heart gets weary, time to sing a song
But when a dream is calling you,
There's just one thing that you can do

Well, you gotta follow that dream wherever that dream may lead
You gotta follow that dream to find the love you need

Keep a-movin, move along, keep a moving

Got to find me someone whose heart is free
Someone to look for my dream with me
And when I find her I may find out
Just what my dreams are all about

I've got to follow that dream wherever that dream may lead
I've got to follow that dream to find the love I need

I've got to follow that dream wherever that dream may lead
I've got to follow that dream to find the love I need

Keep a-movin, move along
Keep a-movin, move along
Keep a-movin, move along

6093

COSMIC WIMP-OUT

Has anyone ever heard of this game?

My exe's best bud used to talk about it all the time but we never got a chance to play.

What's it all about?  (If you know, write Virage65@aol.com, por favor.)

Can anyone enlighten me?  I just happened to think of it now.

It's funny, ever since that previous revelation about the ex, I have found myself not thinking about her and not even wanting to, but her friend has been so kind... I think about what a nice person she is and what a shame it is that the two of us can't be better friends because of the situation.

I will just have to wonder what her boyfriend's family's farm is like, how his dog, Batman, will act when he smells the bunnies, and if I would have been any good at Cosmic Wimp-out.

Ah, well.  That's the rub.

Peace.

In praise of MEN

Yeah.  That's right.  Wanna make something of it?  Who says a lesbian can't admire a man?  Not me!

I have just been thinking how much I enjoy the journals of some of the boys here in J-Land.

I want to give them their props.

 

NJLittleBear

He was the first person to ever IM me as a result of my journal.  I haven't given him nearly enough attention.  Sorry, Bear. :/

screaminremo303

Here's a guy who's honest and humorous.  The truth is out there, and it's pretty funny.

chasferris

Here's a guy in an old folk's home with an electric scooter and a digital camera detailing life on the far end.  Warm.  Very warm.

goldenchildnc

Just read him!

grofsand

This is a sweet, sensitive, very kind man who lives in the area where I grew up.

gaboatman

A real gentleman.

egino11fly

A pilot who shares the world openly.

 

Wait! Wait!  I almost forgot:

thelovetrain

He's new to me, but I'm getting to know and like him.

OK, these aren't all the guys, but these are the guys that I've found that I enjoy reading.

Show me.  Who's moved you?

Whoa!  Stepping away from AOL for a moment, I present the two young men in my life who encourage me and give me pride in the people who are going to take over very soon.  They are my co-workers, but even better than that, they are my friends:

Josh's journal

Josh's Homepage

AND

Joe's journal

and the very clever library page he started,

Amusing Things that Patrons Do and Say in the Library Environment

Let's here it for the boys!

 

 

6077

fragility

I'm awake from a nightmare generated from a mistake.  It was more like a vision because every time I knew I was waking from it, it kept coming back.

Last night at the kennel, I gave insulin to the wrong dog.  I called the doctor and we tested the dog's blood and fed her puppy food laced with sugar (dextrose).  The doctor took her to the emergency clinic for observation overnight.

It's a very bad mistake that I have never before made in the eight years that I've been at the clinic.  It made me think that maybe it's time for me to resign. 

My nightmare started as a dream of siblings in a house.  One was in his room and not letting anyone in but I knocked and spoke softly and was allowed near. (I was one of the siblings.) The child was bloodied and bruised and raw in places.  As the dream progressed of me trying to get this child to the doctor, the child became small and as fragile as the dried bones of a bird.

This dream didn't frighten me.  It was my guilt chiding me, laying weights in my heart.  The dog could have died.  I have confidence that it will survive and probably not suffer too ill an effect (affect?) 

Still....

 

I have to say that my people know me.  When I told Cristy what happened via IM, she asked if I was okay.  She already knew that the doctor and I had done everything we could for the dog.  She also knows that I take things like this very hard.

And the doctor... she has no notion of firing me. 

I thought about the resignation, then I thought about the employees who come and go at the hospital.  I thought about how quick I was to call the doctor and how responsibly I own my mistakes.

Yeah, I f***ed up pretty big.  Yeah, I feel awful about what may yet happen to the dog, to the owner and to the doctor.

The hospital will eat the cost of emergency care. I feel pretty bad about that, too.

I kept trying to find out who had done the damage to the child in the awful dream.  The child wouldn't say, even as it became as fragile as paper.      

I know now it was me.  It was me who hurt my animal brother. 

 

 

 

6045

Go Fluffy!

Last night I went to the Improv in West Palm Beach to see this gentleman.  I went because I saw him perform last year and I laughed like crazy.

His comedy is pretty clean, actually.  He didn't even cuss until after enjoying some of the drinks that the audience keep plying him with.  The show went almost three hours we were all having so much fun. 

What's my point?  I guess I just want to endorse him.  If he comes back next year, I'll probably go again.

Go Fluffy!

www.fluffyguy.com

Just a note to Gabriel: If I was straight you'd be in big trouble!

Laughter is so sexy.

 

Attack of the Killer Toilets

The night that I went driving to keep myself distracted, I stopped into a Barnes & Noble to look for a blank book.

I headed for the ladies room and found a queue of ladies standing back against the door and two stalls standing vacant.  I queried if someone was going to use the empty toilets, but they sort of mumbled something about the little girl that was huddled by one of the women being afraid.

I walked into the stall they pointed to and flushed the toilet.  Problem solved, I thought.  I walked back to my place in line and said, "Go ahead."

Nope.

So I walked into the handicapped stall, which was clean except for toilet paper on the floor.  I said, "This one is free... just some paper on the floor."

Nope.

"Okay, whatever...."

I was chagrined and I REALLY wanted to say something to the child and her parent.

The child was no more than eight years old, if that.

I wanted to say to her mother, "How do you expect her to survive if she can't even pee in public?  You've got her afraid of a toilet!"

I can't imagine what else the child fears.  I would have liked to have told the girl that the world is pretty big and full of lots and lots and lots of things and that if you fear everything you'll never cut the muster.

I found a book and went on my way, but here it is a week later and I am still thinking about being so young and so afraid of something so ridiculously liveable, conquerable.  Oi.

If you are terrified of toilets, carry disinfectant.

This is all about the fear of death, you know, but if you spend your time fearing germs you won't ever live.

 

This morning, Joe, my fellow blogger and co-worker asked me if I was "trying to have one of those blogs that everyone reads" because of the previous entry in which I asked for links to favorite journals. 

Joe's question was interesting.  No, honestly, I don't need to be too popular.  I don't have time to talk to a lot of people.  I don't think I want to.  I really am a wallflower, however I do like it when people leave comments in response to what I share.  More readers means more comments (because I really don't get that many.)

So far, no one has sent me a link that's new to me, but they have sent some really good ones.     

Joe just joined my branch. (Congratulations, by the way, Joe, on becoming a real person.) ((Real people: regular full-time employees with benefits.)) 

Joe started as a page about six years ago.   He's paid his library dues.  Now he's a number II.  LOL (That's a jab because I know he'll read this.)

There was no school today and there will be no school tomorrow.  Naturally, we were just about over-run by the kids. It made the day drag because you can't get enough done when you have to keep stopping to ask kids not to run, talk loudly, eat and drink, or hit each other.

I think that if we were brilliant and rich, we'd build separate kid places and let them trash the place and yell and holler and whatever else they want to do, thereby freeing up the library computers for actual study, communication and old-fashioned READING.

The thing is that we do not want to keep the kids out.  They need and deserve resources and a place to be.  Legally, we don't have to allow them in under the age of 16 without supervision.  But someday these kids will have jobs and money and if they have bad experience now, they might not join Friends Groups when they retire.  They might go elsewhere to keep themselves jacked up on entertainment and to socialize.  If they are sitting in the library, they aren't usually committing crimes or putting themselves in harm's way.

My problem isthat unlike most of my co-workers, I am not a former school teacher.  I have no children.  I'm used to quiet and I'm old school when it comes to respecting your elders.  The crux is that you have to respect the kids.  My problem is that there are confines of how you can speak to them.  When I deal with members of my family, it's on an earthier level that they respond to.

Different age kids respond to different things.  Most kids who are under a certain age will stop if you say, "Excuse me, I need you to stop running, please."  Then there are older kids and you need to be apologetic.  "I'm sorry but we need to keep this card catalog free for people who need to look up books."  Now we get to the ones who need consequences for their actions.  "If we find you viewing porn again, you will lose your library privilege for the day."

Me, I want to communicate with them like I talk to my teenage brother.  "Hey Bub, what the heck are you doing?  Do you think that's a good idea?"  If I can't get his attention, I tickle him.  If he looks upset or tired, I rub his back or stroke his hair before I even say anything.

There isn't time enough to spend with these kids to develop closer relationships so you know them well enough to really communicate. You can't touch them.  And to speak to them on the street level could get you into trouble.

I started this entry last night.  Today is Friday. Two more days of being mobbed by kids... pray for me.

 

6006

Suspiciously warm and fuzzy and other stuff

Morning: 7:45 a.m.  I hear the familiar alert signal and know that Judith HeartSong has just posted her semi-daily entry.

I read her post.  I check the article she's talking about. http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2005/10/11/AR2005101101781.html  I notice that she has another award, so I go to check out the blogger who gave it to her. The Love Train He has a nice journal.  He is suspiciously warm and fuzzy.  It's a wonder when men like him are het!

I notice that he has people who blog who he likes to promote.  It's so cool to find new people to read.  It's special when writers bond.

What are the characteristics of a successful blog?

With Judi, it's more than her art and more than her openness.  She is concise and she is kind.  She doesn't talk overly long and she is not self-pitying.  (I am.)  She is gracious to her readers.  Everything she says is true.  She tells you what you need to know without going into too much detail.  And the wonderful thing is that she never posts a bad entry.  Everything she says is thoughtful.  Even when she speaks of heartbreak, she doesn't leave you feeling bad, but rather hopeful... and rooting for her.

I've talked about the "spark of divinity" that we all have inside, as I see it.  I just happen to think that Judi's is a little bit bigger than most people's.

I am trying to be a better blogger.  In the past week, I think I achieved something of that when I told how I really felt deep inside about not getting to see my lover.  Yeah, I was a big baby, but that's who I am.

Ultimately, this journal is for me, but readers make it more real and can validate if not your thoughts then at least your right to them.  And receiving an accolade for something you wrote (which, aside from service, is the only thing I produce) makes you feel responsible and own what you say.

It just happens that I connect with Judi.  We have some things in common and that seems to smooth our ability to communicate.  Judi is... one of the best friends I never met.  I stand in the crowd of people who admire the stuffings out of her.

It's funny.  I enjoy the relative anonymity of this blog although I realize that it has potential perils.  I have tried to be careful not to reveal too much information about myself although if you read enough of this journal and it's links, you can learn or deduce where I live, who I am, what I do, who my people are and that I have a cat who is on a rubber band-free diet.  It's all there if you are savvy enough to figure it out.

I have been blind to bad karma and negativity between bloggers.  We're just a microcosm, after all, so it isn't a surprise.

Who's your favorite blogger?  Send me a link!

 

Good advice and other items

The other day at Staff Day a city police officer advised us, along with remembering to lock our car doors, to NOT keep garage door openers and extra keys in the car.   They get that garage door opener, they're in. But better yet, he advised us to white-out the address on our vehicle registration.  "We only require that you have the registration," he said.  "Your address is on your license."  That might prevent a car bandit from stealing your car and taking it to your house while you are at work or shopping or otherwise occupied.

 

In other news, I had some secondhand news of my ex- today and though at first I felt weird, knowing that she seems to be doing well has lifted a big weight from my heart.  I feel like that door closed that much more today. It's a mighty relief, actually.

I used to be desperate for information but now I'm more than anxious to move forward and get the last of it out of my system.  I will always care very much for her and her family, but I'm looking to the future and to people who actually want me around. 

 

When you're wanted, even the bad things are good.

 

Today was National Coming Out Day.

I wonder what the day meant to individuals and families and co-workers today.  What happened?  Did anything? 

Chances are good that if all the people who aren't exactly heterosexual turned a different color for a day, we'd all be shocked and the world might just change some -- and for the better of everyone... unless ignorant fear is allowed to run things.

 

Final item: I've got a "Jones."  Welch's dried cherries.  I found them in the snack section of my store.  Ooo-wheee.

I paid 60 cents more for a 5.5 oz. bag than I did for a gallon of gas and I have no regrets.  Mmmmm.

Great Lakes cherries and no "dioxide" of any kind in the ingredients.

I bought another bag to share with my co-workers tomorrow... but will I?

"Muah-ha-ha" she laughed, evilly!

I'll probably be over them quickly but a lovely treat.  Thank goodness Michigan and it's environs didn't have any hurricanes this year!

 

 

 

Everything's better for now

I did talk to Em yesterday.  She understood how I felt.  I'm not walking away from her.  I'm going to see if I can't hold out for a while. 

It's different from the last time I was kept away... but I don't know if it's different enough.

I have so much more to ponder and to say on this but I have to get to work.

I only wish I knew the whole truth of the first time it happened.  Even if it hurt, it would have made me a better person.  I don't even get to know if that one ended up happy.  I hope she found someone who adores her that she adores in turn.

I've told Em that I love her.  She laughs, but she doesn't say it back.

Here's your sign, fool.

Just a little bit longer.   She's too good to turn away from without some bit of a fight.

I drove all night.

I've been out for hours, cruising around, running some errands.  I feel empty and edgy.  I am thinking about my Em.  I don't know what to do.  There's no comfort here.

Am I asking too much; to actually see the person I'm dating?

I adore Em.  She's smart and so sassy.  She loves making jokes at my expense and after all the verbal abuse I endured in my life, I don't mind a single bit.  It's warm with her. 

I'd love to be patient with stamina.  I just don't know what I'm waiting for.

Her children are her number one concern.  I get it.

She has school to accomplish.  I get it.

Her ex-husband is a dingleberry who, with his second wife, is making her life very difficult.  I get it.

How she keeps pressing on is a wonder.  She's amazing.  She blows my mind.  I pray for things to be easier for her.

I'll just be over here wondering if I'll ever get squeezed in for long-term, hello-I-see-you-and-I-am-glad-you-are-here kind of thing.

It doesn't seem likely.  There will always be something creating an obstacle.

I don't expect promises of a future. I see how life works.  Staying together is rare.  Here we are and there isn't even being together a little while.  I guess I'm not enough.

She needs someone who chats a lot and is as fiery as she is.  Someone who isn't as sensitive as I am.  Someone content to be on the backburner.

I feel so empty today.  A few days ago, she called and told me all her problems and just listening to her made me happy.

Then she told me we couldn't see each other this weekend.  That's what I wait for.  How pathetic am I?!

She isn't pushing me away like the one who broke my heart did.  She isn't even letting me get close enough to get pushed away.

My heart is a vacuum.  I want to bury my head in the sand.  I want to sleep like I am dead.  I want to be everything I'm not.  I can't beg for attention, for affection.

Tonight I would have stopped where my mother's ashes are, but at 11 at night, the church parking lot was loaded with people.  It's just as well.  I know I would have broken down.

Never mind, it's happening now.  I wish I was still out driving... to keep my mind focused on surviving streets full of teenagers and drinkers rather than being here, alone, empty... and feeling like sugar on the floor.

Ants, in Equality and not feelin' the love

Luckily, the ants swarming inside this old mobile home tonight are the big, wing-ed kind that aren't malicious unless you mess with them.  Thank goodness for the bug spray that does them in quickly and isn't harmful to my cat and doesn't give me any respiratory grief.

There has been so much rain this season.  This isn't the first time the critters have tried to take over the house.

 

"Equality" is an grass-roots group that has done much good in other states, but in Florida, it's something of a joke.  I don't know why people here don't realize that if we don't fight for our rights and the right to be responsible for each other, we'll never get anywhere and might even be set back.

In the past, I went to where the group was supposed to meet, only to find no one else.  At my third try, there were some people there who looked like they might be meeting but damned if I was going up to them, in a sports bar, to ask if they were homosexual activists.

I received e-mail from someone who wants to try and start again.  I'm skeptical.  I don't have much energy to give as it is.  I certainly don't want to drive all the way to some meeting place in another county just to get burned again.

I will write to politicians and speak to crowds and take to the streets... but with other people who are for real.  I don't have the time to fool around.

I give regularly to the Human Rights Campaign. (*Note to self: Call HRC and change payment method.)  When I run into someone else who gives a flying kadiddlehopper, then maybe we'll start a movement.

 

What I really want to talk about tonight is my heart.  The woman I am supposedly involved with doesn't have time for me again this weekend.

I was hoping to see her to talk about the status of the relationship in person.  It isn't fair to expect me to wait forever for her to have time for me.  I changed my work schedule to accommodate her.  She can't even see me.  This will make it more than a month since I've seen her.

She has so much going on.  I understand that.  What the hell am I doing in the equation?  She has NO TIME for me.

I don't feel that I can approach the subject at this time.  I am the least of her concerns.  She doesn't need me whining or asking for freedom to see other people or telling her I can be her friend but I can't handle nothingness.

She's hurting me and it's just not right.  I wonder how long I can put up with being treated like this before I crack.  She doesn't know she's making me miserable.  It isn't the right time to tell her I need to be able to see her now and then or just be friends and nothing more.  I don't think I've asked her for anything more than that.  But it's too high a price for her. 

I don't know what I'm supposed to feel like when I get treated like this.  I don't want to add any other problem to her complex life right now.

I know I need to tell her that she needs to love me or let me go.  I am more than willing to fit her into my life.  I'm not important enough to be a real part of hers.

It's all about finding the right moment and the saying it... even if it comes out wrong.  The one thing that I learned from having my heart raked over is that you have to look out for yourself.

I gave up time to myself and time I'd spend with family and friends.  I save up to be with her.  Gas ain't cheap but I am more than willing to make the trip, even for just a brief visit.

Nope.  Not wanted.  School, kids, work. 

Why does she even bother with me at all?

Give me strength.  I'm afraid I am going to have to say goodbye.  I don't want to.

Maybe it's time to get those other 92 cats.  I'm about ready to give up.

 

 

5876

another comment too big....

My response to: judithheartsong/newbeginning/entries/1586

Everything.  I want to say everything.  I wrote all my life, encouraged by teachers.  But it was when I had a muse, one person who listened to and loved what I wrote that what I wrote took on a life.  Soon others followed in the footsteps of her admiration.  It was never enough to write for myself; I had to be talking to someone.

When I recognized the opportunity to see my thoughts instantly published on line, I had no idea that it would become something more than just that.  I do think that it is vanity and equates to nothing, but if somewhere along the way I encourage something good, then it's good.

I didn't know that people would start talking to me.  NJLITTLEBEAR was the first person to communicate with me.  Then I think you, through him, and then almost everyone who followed, through you.

I still write for myself.  I tell things in my journal that I would never say. (Hohumlala aka "Relentlessly Blinking Cursor" will tell you it's true.)  I want an outlet for these "deep secrets" because it is my belief that we ARE all the same and that the truth is not earth-shattering to the open-minded.

It is my hope that people reading my journal will see beyond the "lesbian" and recognize my humanity as a reflection of their own... and in so doing realize that denying "us" (people who are different) freedoms is not right.

It's still legal to discriminate against me in Florida and most other states because of what I am.  I didn't choose to be homosexual but I did choose not to let being gay in an intolerant world destroy me.  It was be true or die.  It's the same with my journal.

I do censor myself to a degree.  I do not intend to offend anyone.  I respect different viewpoints.  I believe we all have to do the best that we can at any given moment... and sometimes that best is oppressive to others.  We're all just trying to cope. 

It doesn't matter if what I write travels into the future or not.  I'm not afraid of dying with a life that goes unrecognized.  I'm afraid of not putting whatever I have to offer into living while I am alive.

I'm not all bad, though.

Sometimes I wish I could encourage my Reversi opponents, and let them know they still have a chance, let them in on a strategic move they could make.

It would be nice to be matched up with players in the same "league."  Some players seem to have plenty of leisure time in making decisions.  Some players aren't emotionally mature enough to stay and finish the game.

Hmmm, maybe I do need to shift to Intermediate.  But it's not about the competition for me.  It's about the recreational value.

 

 

Why I can never quit the animal hospital

 

With a future like this, I have to feed them somehow!

Back to the reversi porch

... because I'm just not running with the big dogs today.

Now and then, I get delusions that I'm ready to take on better reversi players.  I bumped myself up to intermediate this morning and it wasn't pretty.  I know that if I play better players I am likely to get better.  But the truth is that I don't know that I can stand the ego-crushing. 

And this early in the morning, the intermediate and advanced players aren't generally Americans.  I was crushed by a Russian this a.m. who must be some kind of genius.

The thing about games like reversi and Chess, you have to be able to think ahead about what you'll do. several moves ahead.  Aside from that, you have to know a few things about the effect of where you place your disks.

There are a few key things that I know, but I apparently do not know enough and maybe it is time that I spent some time getting whipped so I can advance.

The thing is that I like to feel victorious in the morning.  It helps my day go better. 

So maybe my strategy should be ego warm-ups in the morning, and be taught some hard lessons in the evening.

It might send me to sleep grumpy, but that's okay.  I'll fight the good fight in the morning and hopefully feel right as rain again before I have to face people.

There's plenty of people as good or better than me playing in the beginners still.  My object is fun... however, my other object is to keep my mind perking along.

I guess I owe it to my aging cells to give then something more to work on.

Have you tried Reversi (aka Othello?)

 

 

5827

another round from the reversi board

The choices of what you can say to your opponent aren't too varied.  There's Hello; Thank You; Nice Move; Good Luck; Good Game; Didn't see that coming; Ouch!; Oops!; :) ; :( ; It was luck; You're Welcome; Nice Comeback; It's your turn; Be right back...; Okay, I'm back; It's Your Turn; Are you still there?; Nice try; You're Welcome;  Sorry, I have to go now.... You get the idea.  International diplomacy.

It'd be more fun if it could be a little more interactive, a little more hip-hop, a little more sardonic.

I'd like to trade barbs.  I'd like to know who I'm playing.  Since January, I've written about this game. Like most any game, we learn from it.  I am getting better at it yet... but my opponents remain the unknown.

Who are they?  They are people in the US and other countries all over the world.  Wherever Microsoft products are sold, I suppose.

Are they mostly male?  I don't rightly know.  Some of them are very chatty.  Maybe they are attempting distraction or maybe they are just lonely.  Others shut off their chat capabilities for whatever reason.

I'd like the chance to communicate, to question.

I'd ask their age and gender.  I'd want to know what time it is in their country and what their doing online at that particular hour.  I'd ask them how long they've been playing the game.

I'd also like to snippy and brash.  I'd like to offer sass. I might even enjoy being a little crude.

Maybe something like that would change perceptions or maybe it would just fan flames.

At the very least, they could add a few more phrases to choose from.

No, let's face it... I'm a would-be Yenta.  I'm too curious.  I want details.  I want to get into that Turk's head.  I want to know what's up with the Serbian.  I wanna know what the Thai is having for dinner.  I want to query the Swede on what life is in a neutral country.

Bill Gates could make it happen. 

Oh, Mr. Gates....

 

5808

(sigh)

I'd love to have something to write, but I'm just empty tonight.  Drained.  Devoid of...

Hey... I just got an idea!

Note to self:  Go into civilization soon and purchase an acid-free journal.

<(twitch)>

 

{Evil laughter.} Muuahhhahahaha!

Canine Influenza

If you haven't been listening to the news lately and you have a canine companion, listen up.  A strain of flu is going around.  It somehow made it's way from horses to dogs.  The virus seems to be quite contagious and also potentially deadly.  They say that 10 percent of dogs that contract it die.

The virus can apparently be passed quite easily through casual dog contact or may even be passed from animal to animal by humans who carry it home.

The symptoms include coughing (the virus mimics "kennel cough"), gagging, lethargy, loss of appetite and a runny nose. 

If your pet displays any of the above signs, get to the vet ASAP.