Snow Day

It’s a winter wonderland up here in the Northwest, something we’re not quite sure what to do with. We’re all agog, wandering down snow-covered lanes with brand new mittens and kicking at the powdery ground with our fur-lined boots. Every time it snows out here, you would think it was the first time in history, such a rare event it is. Adults throw snowballs, cars rear off the road into ditches. It brings us great glee. The city shuts down; a snow day for all. Only the cats are distressed, staring perplexed out the cat door, unsure what is causing the glare. They touch their tiny paws to the ground, and then run back in the house, not caring for change.

Goddess Envy

The question in this week’s Sunday Scribblings is “Do you have a nemesis?” I did have one at one time, a nemesis such as we use the word today: an enemy, an opponent, a source of harm. She was supposed to be my best friend. But that’s another story.

I want to talk about Nemesis, the goddess of vengeance. Daughter of the Nyx, the goddess of night. Nemesis rides in a carriage pulled by griffins (part lion, part eagle). She is the pursuer of the wicked, she will bring down justice. Nemesis punished Narcissus for being so conceited. She is sister to the Fates. There is something deep inside me that longs to be Nemesis. There is a need in me to see the world ironed out, even, fair. Plus she wore only indigo. I look good in indigo.

Nemesis also wore a sword (one of the few Greek Gods to do so), but she is not merely a source of evil and power. Think of her as the teacher of the tough lessons, disciplinarian to wayward humans. The embodiment of Karma. Nemesis is a necessary force. She is part of the balance of the universe; teaching us right from wrong and making us pay for going off the path of righteousness.

Now I’ve done it, now I am treading the waters of morality and religion. Karma and divine justice. Who is to say what is right and what is wrong? Is the world really so black and white? Unfortunately having a batch of opinions and a pocket full of indignation probably doesn’t qualify me for such a lofty position. While I’m studying up on my theology I’ll just think of myself as a Nemesis in training. I’ll keep my opinions to a minimum and keep trying to do the right thing. Someday maybe I’ll wear that sword.

Photo Day

Feeling a little uninspired. Feeling a little down, sad, call it what you will. I'm in the midst of the doldrums, I'm in the thick of the void, I'm staring at the walls waiting for inspiration to arrive. I'm feeling a bit like this guy without the sunshine.


And so I give you photos I took in Asia last year: blinks of the artist eye, work I can feel good about.


Bangkok on the river

Hiroshima temple

AND........






What???

Let it Shine

Another sunny day that lifts our gloomy mood. Sitting atop the roof looking out over the land, surveying the trees as the owls do at night, their particular screeching cat-yowls, the most frightening sound at midnight. Another calls back in a hoot that echoes out across the darkness. This land is beautiful in its crisp autumn sunshine. Unlike the dark days of winter. I’m working very hard at pulling things together. I’m trying to be good, to focus, to get things down, in order, in place. I’m ahead of the game and want to stay that way, feel I’ve been granted a particular freedom: a lightness, a warm breeze, a chance to rejuvenate, pick my head up. All this the power of sunshine.

Ouch

Yesterday I had a dentist appointment. You all know: it can never be pleasant. It just can’t. The skill level of the doctor factors in only slightly. There are few things in the natural world more humiliating that having your mouth propped open by a rubber and steel instrument while you are being asked questions you can only answer by a particularly meaningful squint of the eye. Few things outside of intentional torture, that is.
My dentist is excellent. He is professional, efficient, and funny. But somehow all that matters very little when you cannot feel the right side of your mouth and are watching globules of spit fly up out of your mouth and onto the dark glasses they have provided. You feel a drop land on your nose, but no one is wiping it off for you. Why isn’t the hygienist wiping it off for you? You obsess about that drop of spit on your nose, imagine what your face looks like, stretched wide open and covered with blue rubber, that shiny bit of spit across your nose.
You have never looked more ridiculous. They must be laughing at how you look. The hygienists must talk about it in the lounge at lunch.
You know it is only making the situation worse, focusing on that spit and so you try to let it go, try to concentrate on your breathing, but then the whine of the drill, high pitched and chilling. You wonder if the Novocain is going to work, maybe it isn’t strong enough, maybe he missed and that drill is going to be more painful than anything you have ever experienced. Your hands clench tight around the copy of Newsweek on your lap, open to a story you will never finish reading about a man executed in Texas. Did he feel like this, strapped to the table, awaiting the lethal injection?
Oh for god’s sake breathe, you cannot feel the drill. But the spit is still there, on your nose, though it is dry now. You wiggle your nose, lift a fist to your face, but the dentist tells you to lie still, almost there. The hygienist laughs and says you have the loudest spit she’s ever heard. What does that mean? Doesn’t everyone’s spit sound like that when they suck it up the tube? Now you can only hear the spit, nothing else. The sound of the spit drowns out the drill, the chit chat they are making so close to your face, the two of them prodding and poking, laughing. You have the loudest spit. Stop it spit, stop it. Stop making that noise. You try to shift the tube with your tongue, but it only makes the noise louder and it seems to echo in the tiny room.
There is nothing that can be done about this; nothing but to accept that you have loud spit, accept that you are ridiculous and numb, drooling and distorted. Your muscles relax and you sit defeated in the chair.
“Okay,” the dentist says. “You’re all set.”
“Thanks,” you mumble, and wipe your nose.

I Don't Want to Be a Passenger in My Own Life

This week's Sunday Scribblings prompt is a quote from writer Diane Akerman.

The scenery is shooting by at an alarming rate. This morning I thought I would take a nice peaceful train ride. I would not have to think about the insanity of the highway, gas burning, the possibility of a debilitating crash. I did not want to worry about flat tires, oil leaks, engine fires. I boarded the train so that I would not risk a pebble flying at the windshield, a jack-knifed semi sliding across the median, triggered air bag, concussion.
Here I am in my safe cushioned seat, first class ticket, power outlet below me for my laptop, a conductor who comes to me for proof I have paid. I have paid. But we are moving too fast for my eyes to see what it was I wanted to see. I had desired scenery, a backdrop for my thoughts of life and death and the Holidays upon us. I am thinking of learning and children and cooking and health and I sought a pastoral view while I pondered this forest of ideas. Not a blur of shapes and colors. Not a continuous, nauseating smear.
This is not what I had in mind. Stop this train! I look around in a panic, but the other passengers seem comfortable,seem content with this rocketing speed. Up above me I eye the red emergency stop button and my hand trembles towards it. I don’t want to be driven if I have no control over the pace, the direction, the destination. This ride is not for me. I stand, staring at the button, and ask myself: Do I dare?

Prompt Part 2-
Favorite quote:
“Opportunity is missed by most people because it’s dressed in overalls and looks like work” Thomas Edison

I've Been Meme'd

Okay, bug, I looked up the term:

meme (plural memes)

1. Any unit of cultural information, such as a practice or idea, that is transmitted verbally or by repeated action from one mind to another. Examples might include thoughts, ideas, theories, practices, habits, songs, dances and moods and terms such as race, culture, ethnicity etc.
2. A self-propagating unit of cultural evolution having a resemblance to the gene (the unit of genetics).



10 wonderful things that start with L:


* Life
* Libraries. "L"s are too easy.
* L-Dopa (an amino acid, precursor to Dopamine, synthetic form used to treat Parkinson's disease)-ooh, seems I did learn something with all that studying.
* Laughter
* Language
* Lesley University
* Lady's slipper, a most stunning orchid
* Legends- they keep us going.
* Lingering. Just the sound of the word is enjoyable.
* Love. Of course.

Five bad things that start with L:

* Lewis "Scooter" Libby. Too wrapped up with Cheney et al. Don't like him.
* Lint. Does it serve a purpose?
* Land mine.
* Lap dances (sorry guys, it just looks wrong)
* Liposcution. Nothing right about that.


Hey FC, if you're around, I'm requesting a Q list from you (should be challenging, but I'm sure you're up to the task)

Issues

There are certain subjects that need to be addressed with ferocity. People need to speak up when the loudest voice being broadcast is so completely offensive. Bibi says it better than I could in her post Dear Rush Limbaugh

The other subject I want to prompt you to explore is that of the impending war with Iran. Yes, that's what I said, no typo, no dropped q-- war with Iran, which is what ex-weapons inpector Scott Ridder says the Bush administration is planning on pursuing. He was brilliant on the PBS program I just watched. This man should be president, but alas, I fear he is far too rational.

Here's what my local PBS station has to say:

Scott Ritter This week on KCTS Connects, Scott Ritter, former United Nations weapons inspector in Iraq, joins us to talk about his new book, "Target Iran: The Truth About the White House's Plans for Regime Change." In 2002, Ritter became a lightening rod for controversy when he cautioned that the U.S - with its plans to invade Iraq - was on the verge of an historic mistake. He warned that Iraq did not have weapons of mass destruction, and criticized the Bush administration of disguising its policy of regime change with spurious claims of threats to U.S. national security. In his new book he charges the Bush administration for following the same disastrous model in Iran as it did in Iraq, and argues that "the path that the United States is currently embarked on regarding Iran is a path that will inevitably lead to war."

So, I feel the need to stay wary of our questionable leader once again. We cannot afford to invade another country, neither morally or financially--for any reason. I'll defer to my politically savvy husband for info on staying active on this one. There are times we cannot afford to turn our heads. I'll let you know what I find out...

The Trappings of Technology

Well, isn't that always the way. I was all set to jump into full blogging glory and my DSL is down and out. It may be from the colossal rains, it may be some sort of sign to cool it on the computer work. Whatever it is, it has forced me to an internet cafe (the only one on the island) to comment. This after half the day yesterday was spent on the phone to a technician in Manila who tried to walk me through fixing my Quickbooks. (A word to the wise, if you are thinking about starting your own business, try to stay away from the Evil Program that sucks you in, makes you dependent on it, and then charges you exorbitant fees to make it work). I have so much to say, so much to ponder, and yet, limited internet access once again. This seems a recurring theme. What does it mean???

No Need to Worry

Lest you think my bones are off bleaching in the desert sun, I write to tell you I am alive and fully saturated up here in the Great Northwest once again (in fact, thinking of building an ark as the deluge will not stop). Having finally come out of my sleep-deprived stupor, I am wading through miles of mail from the last three weeks and breathing a gigantic sigh of relief for having barely squeezed out my last submission for school. I guarantee I will be back with you all in full blogging glory by the end of the day... Oh, how I've missed you all.