Still a great list to fly to.
"Ready to Go" Republika
"Si Senor the Hairy Grill" Yello
"Hawaii" Young Canadians
"The Temple of Love" Sister's of Mercy
"This Town aint Big Enough for Both of us" Sparks
" The Prisoner" DOA (see me in the crowd there? I'm there)
"Kashmir" Led Zepplin
"We are all Made of Stars" Moby
"Broken Face" the Pixies
"Bela Lugosi's Dead" Bauhaus
" Saved" Swans
"Alice" Cocteau Twins
"Strict Machine" Goldfrappe
yeah yeah old but still the coolest.
by far m'dears, by far!
So possibly I might do the New Year's Day fly... yes yes I know it is amazing to contemplate that!
I almost am excited by the prospect. Slack fliers or none, I still love the stunt ballet.
This means I should check to see if my lines are mouldy. I havenèt used them in 5 years.
Okay, 3 years but still that is a long long time.
Look around-- there are ALOT of fly-surfers now. Even here they come up in their neoprene suits and try the beach off the chi-chi avenues.
When I flew on Long Beach and had my music on a tape the judges asked for a preview.
I donèt know why they asked me when noone else had to give a sample.
I remember myself as very respectable except of course at the time I had a headful of black and blue brilliant blue hair. In braids that shot up straight. It was very effective and I thought beautiful. I did get some negative feedback on the beach.
The song I flew my routine was: "Si Senor the Hairy Grill' by Yello.
It was a spunky little number.
I had leather and lace but it was very modest.
The Judges confiscated my tape. :(
It was considered " A slap in the face to serious fliers"
haha I have the last laugh. Now the girls in that category have fake breasts and fly to stupid things while they pretend to be artistes.
I am listening to a playlist on my iPod and other people wanted to hear it.
"Oh my God you are an old Goth."
No not a Goth but perhaps a few gothish tendancies.
I did have a chainmail bra and I did wear 40's heels (black of course) to the club which of course was the "Love Affair" on hmm was is Drake and Seymour? Yes I think it was.
I was too pop for the Goths.
Too goth for the punks.
Too punk for the folkies.
Too folkie for the popsters.
Never cared except to be amused.
Now I am going to let loose my TUNZ on the beach.
It is one hell of a view with those floor to ceiling windows and the waves are crashing mere feet away from her oceanfront home. She looks at me and speaks her line with a dramatic gesture:
" It is not by chance you enter here... "
We adjourn to the family room and a little Woodsworth.
"I had such a great family Christmas I think I am ready to move on to the next stage of live."
( she is 94)
Up goes the arm again and the quote issues forth:
"Not into entire forgetfulness and not in utter nakedness,
but trailing clouds of glory do we come
from God who is our home."
oh yes.... thats quite a typical conversation.
I love my job!
There is this man I know who has a story to tell.
I have invited him to write here on my blog.
It is a very good story and well worth listening to.
Wids, it's you.
After he gets the hang on things perhaps we can have a TEAM woohoo
and next; WORLD DOMINATION
Are you up to speed, Slackers?
Martha Stewart's Holiday To-Do List
Dec. 1st- Blanch carcass from Thanksgiving turkey.
Spray pain gold, turn upside down & use as a sleigh to hold Christmas Cards.
Dec. 2nd- Have Mormon Tabernacle Choir record outgoing Christmas message
for answering machine.
Dec. 3rd- Using candlewick & hand-gilded miniature pine cones, fashion a
cat-o-nine-tails. Flog Gardener.
Dec. 4th- Repaint Sistine Chapel ceiling in ecru, with mocha trim.
Dec. 5th- Get new eyeglasses. Grind lenses myself.
Dec. 6th- Fax family Christmas newsletter to Pulitzer committee for consideration.
Dec. 7th- Debug Windows (all versions)
Dec. 10th- Align carpets to adjust for curvature of Earth.
Dec. 11th- Lay Faberge egg.
Dec. 12th- Take dog apart. Disinfect. Reassemble.
Dec. 13th- Collect dentures. They make excellent decorative pastry cutters.
Dec. 14th- Install plumbing in gingerbread house.
Dec. 15th- Replace air in mini-van tires with Glade "Holiday Scents"
Dec. 17th- Child-proof the Christmas tree with garland of razor-wire.
Dec. 19th- Adjust the legs of chairs so each Christmas dinner guest will be the same height when sitting at his or her assigned seat.
Dec. 20th- Dip sheep and cows in egg whites and roll in confectioner's sugar
to add a festive sparkle to the pasture.
Dec. 21st- Drain city reservoir; refill with mulled cider, orange slices and cinammon sticks.
Dec. 22nd- Float votive candles in toilet tank.
Dec. 23rd- Seed clouds for white Christmas.
Dec. 24th- Do annual good deed.
Go to several stores.
Be seen engaged in last minute Christmas shopping, thus making people feel less inadequate than they really are.
Dec. 25th- Bear Son.
Lay in colour-co-ordinated manger scented with homemade potpourri.
Dec. 26th- Organise spice racks by genus and phylum.
Dec. 27th- Build snowman in exact likeness of God.
Dec. 31st- New Year's Eve!! Give staff their resolutions.
Call a friend in each time zone of the world as their clocks strike midnight.
It's a new day and a new year.
Naturally I felt thick as a brick all day.
2 tums every 3 hours.....
Tonight will be better. I know it.
When you suffer a blow to your dignity, it is a wound that takes a long while to scab over.
Today I realised that I would like to spend a working decade making a difference to people in poorer countries. We have such wealth. They have so little.
And I, do I want to be one who passes by?
One who goes to sleep as if it is nothing to me?
It is something to me. Something big.
My own problems have created in me a huge need for social justice within my own realm.
I would like to spread it further.
The storm in my brain spoiled my birthday :(
Wthe tornado is there right in front of my mind's eye, I get a screaming headache and my whole left side goes into excruciating pain. No, oops it'e my right side. I get more dyslexic as the years go on. That's so typical; my getting it wrong so wrong.
I am without grace tonight.
Today it is new meds.
It was $64.00
For one week of meds.
I am soooo depressed about money...........
♥ ♥ ♥
Accolades for still being alive on the planet despite all odds.
Hollow victories. I look great, everyone tells me so.
I look so well. This almost makes me insane to hear.
I feel awful. Going to the Doctor upsets me greatly.
My Doctor could not be more caring or compassionate and has advocated for me in ways that most patients can only dream of. He has taken my disorders and injuries and made a roadmap for me, one that I can follow. He listens to my weirdness and never does anything to compromise my dignity. You cannot imagine how wonderful that is.
Not many years ago, before I had any recollections about accidents and injuries, I was at another Doctor - - - that is one of the worst memories of my life.
THAT Doctor never bothered to look in my medical history, never bothered to look past the *You Look Great* thing. I was a very pretty girl back then.
My Doctor of the time pretended to listen to me but wrote in his files: Neurotic.
My brain was scrambled and I was trying to make sense of all the dots I saw and the teflon skies ... the sleep paralysis and the flashback tremors. I thought everyone experienced that!
It floored me to find out other people did not have them.
Here I had always thought everyone knew some secret coping method that I wasn't privy to!
That Doctor drugged me into oblivion and back until I rebelled and tried to stop taking those drugs. He got very angry and threw me out of his practise saying I was a spoiled brat.
A spoiled brat who "wanted to be sick."
He thought I was making it up.
Of course if he had bothered to check my medical history he would have seen a brain injury, and multiple severe concussions.
But he didn't bother.
$50k in jaw surgery, dentistry, realignment and.... 4+ years of wired up hell.
Do I sound angry?
Not anymore. Just sad.
When I have a bad day, I remember Dr. R-tt--berg and his complete lack of professionalism and compassion.
Thank God for Dr. M-c---- who has restored my faith in the Medical Profession.
He listens. He researches. He prescribes appropriately.
He consults with other Physicians and when he does not know he says so and sends me to someone who might should or is able to figure it out.
So, hope reigns.
This morning I was out before the dawn as we have not yet passed the solstice.
It was very dark and the rain was heavy. A morning for a nice hot tea at the beach whilst listening to my morning CBC before work.
I went around the back road to my morning drive-through restaurant. As I drove behind a restaurant out of the corner of my eye I saw something on the ground. It moved incrementally.
Thinking it was rather early for a skateboarder to be out, and in the darkness to boot, I reversed and called out my window:
"Are you all right?"
"NO! I am not all right!" a voice called weakly back.
It was not a teenager at all, but a gentleman in his late 80's laying face-down on the pavement.
As he turned his head I saw blood pouring down his forehead. A cane was 3 or 4 feet away. along with a pair of broken glasses.
He was so cold and so wet and the wind and rain were still so heavy, after feeling along his spine and legs and asking if he could move them, I decided to get him up.
"You won't be able to get me up."
" Sure I can." I knew I could. And I did. He was flailing a bit for a few minutes so I had to hold on to him from behind. I walked him to my car after five minutes or so of trying to stablise his balance. It was not easy.
During this time another vehicle came by and drove past us. Yes, past us.
This driver must have had an attack of conscience since I had been waving frantically as he passed us. He came back and actually said: "Did you call an ambulance?"
"No,' I said, "I am holding this gentleman up. Can you please call?"
He did not return. The ambulance came about 10 minutes later.
The driver asked me if I wanted to warm up in his van. They took the gent to the hospital and I got my tea and went to work. When I drove through the clerk told me she was sorry she was unable to help but she could see me there.
"The man who told us to call 9-1-1 stirred his coffee and went and sat with his buddies."
Oh how thankful I am that I saw this gentleman as so easily he could have been run over.
After all, that is what happened to my friend lo these many years ago. The first fall did not kill her, but the second, being run over did.
I sat outside my first assignment with my heater blaring. My hair dried but my coat was pretty much completely sodden. It still is.
Impeccable timing. Thank you God. Angels are watching over me.
For those also suffering the dread sleep disorders bring, I post this to bring hope.
Initially when my Physician sent me to the big bux brain doc, I was skeptical.
When I was sent home with alot of good advice and a prescription, I was hesitant.
Because of the severity of my disorder, I took both the advice and the drugs and awaited my three month re-assessment.
It has been almost seven weeks since I began the program of drugs and strict routine.
There is no question: I feel alot better.
Sleeping is now a pleasure. I still dream but it is without fear and awakenings.
I am awake at 5 am. Up at 6:15.
Out and about and working. Home in the late afternoon, relaxing by 6pm and bed or at least room by 8. Every night I am asleep before 9.
So-- antipyschotic though it may be, Seroquel in low doseage is very effective for night terrors, post traumatic stress, and other parasomnias.
It is possible I am the least trusting patient ever but with good cause.
All the same, if you too are a parasomniac, and your Doctor wants to try 25 mg of Seroquel, give it a try. It seems to be working well for me.
You have to have a certain persona to be a star, you know, and I don't have that. I'm a banana.
The rosy cross contains attributes for the Elements, Planets, Zodiac, Hebrew alphabet, alchemical principles, the hexagram and pentagram, the sepheroth of the Tree of Life, and the formula of INRI. On the back side of the rosy cross is inscribed the motto at the bottom, "The master Jesus Christ, God and Man" between four maltese crosses, and in the center, written in Latin, "Blessed be the Lord our God who hath given us the Symbol Signum."
The Rose-Cross is a Lamen or badge synthesizing a vast concourse of ideas, representing in a single emblem the Great Work itself—the harmonious reconciliation in one symbol of diverse and apparently contradictory concepts, the reconciliation of divinity and manhood. It is a highly important symbol to be worn over the heart during every important operation. It is a glyph, in one sense, of the higher Genius to whose knowledge and conversation the student is eternally aspiring. In the Rituals it is described as the Key of Sigils and Rituals.
This lamen is a complete synthesis of the masculine, positive, or rainbow scale of color attributions, which is also called the Scale of the King. The four arms of the cross belong to the four elements and are colored accordingly. The white portion belongs to the Holy Spirit and the planets.
The twenty-two petals of the rose refer to the twenty-two paths on the Tree of Life and the Twenty-two letters of the Hebrew alphabet. It is the cross in Tiphareth, the receptacle and the center of the forces of the Sephiroth and the paths. The extreme center of the rose is white, the reflected spiritual brightness of Kether, bearing upon it the Red Rose of Five Petals and the Golden Cross of Six Squares; four green rays issue from around the angles of the cross. Upon the white portion of the lamen, below the rose, is placed the hexagram, with the planets.
Around the pentagrams, which are placed one upon each elemental colored arm, are drawn the symbols of the spirit and the four elements. Upon each of the floriated ends (the arms) of the cross are arranged the three alchemical principles of sulfur, salt, and mercury. The white rays issuing from behind the rose at the inner angles between the arms of the cross are the rays of the divine light issuing and coruscating from the reflected light of Kether in its center; and the letters and symbols on them refer to the analysis of the Key Word - I.N.R.I.
nope, I don't make this stuff up but it sure is interesting isn't it?
There are a few Eleanor Rigby's on my schedule. It is very sad when the person you are visiting clings to you as you are leaving. Full of fear to be alone again. Those long long days can pull you down when you are feeling vunerable.
A few other clients are in the midst of moves. For some it is a good thing and others view it as a long-avoided, now inevitable horror. They know that no matter how you dress it up, this is likely the last stop on the ride. One or two are eagerly anticipating having more people around to interact with, and more care if they need it. I know they all but they do not know each other. Because of confidentiality, we cannot pair them up one to another, even when we know they would enjoy each other's company. No matter; they will meet soon enough.
One of my little Eleanors is not moving. But she should be.
--- sigh --- *
“We're born alone, we live alone, we die alone. Only through our love and friendship can we create the illusion for the moment that we're not alone.” Orson Wells
I made one of these calendars at www.despair.com
Noire of course, but very funny.
Sometimes you really want to tell all those motivational rah-rahs to shove it.
Despair.com does it for me.
Complete with the frowny face in the address bar.
The huge burms roadside, created by the snowploughs, have ensured a lengthy melt-time.
The virginal white beauty of last week is now sullied and sodden.
Even by the water, at the very best million dollar addresses, the driveways are treacherous still.
Just because your home is valuable, does not mean you value your guests and staff enough to have a safe entry point. In fact, it seems more likely that you do not as you, yourself, most likely are sitting comfortably in your warm chair awaiting your service.
Another amazing thing I have observed is the reluctance of large dog owners to dispose of their pet's droppings. Okay, just to be clear, it is not the pet owners who are large, but the dogs.
Little dogs, like little people, get away with alot more. (Spoken like a true bigger person, no?)
In a place where a clothesline is not allowed to hang in a private back yard, where each and every new business is vetted through the town council, where the new homes built along sight lines in the main shopping district must conform to the English faux country resort theme, there are no bylaw enforcement officers about. Amazing.
The growth here is frightening still. Although I commented above about million dollar addresses, truthfully, that's not saying much these days. A regular old house in the town centre is over 300 thousand now. A nice regular house is about 500 and a newer home in the downtown area is over 600k. If you want waterfront that's 800 and up. For a million dollars you might still just have a 66 foot frontage. 66 by 122. One home I attend on the water has 7 acres. The property next door to it sold last year for 5.5 million. *whew*
|"The real world is muddy and messy and full of things that we do not yet understand". Freeman Dyson|
Lights and magic and goodwill t'ward all mankind from the Divine.
As long as the sun melts the snow in the critical areas of the highway on the return drive I will be fine. On all-seasons you take what mercies the road hands you. I would rather drive uphill than down.
There have been so many terrible accidents this week, it is a very good thing to be taking extra time to consider all aspects of the drive.
It was a long time ago now. It was in my sixteenth year, and the best and only good thing about that time was the making of a very best friend. Nowadays the kids would say BFFs and that was what Carol Maureen Barker was to me.
We were both Sagittarians. She was crazy and creative and I was just crazy. She could draw anything at all and had the best sense of humour. I could not draw but I could laugh.
Her family lived in fashionable Oakridge in a house that looked like a castle with a terrace across the upper front. My family lived in a 1920's bungalow in Shannon-Marpole that noone would ever confuse with a chateau, castle or gatehouse. We lived 27 blocks away from each other, give or take a few.
I had the misfortune to have a younger brother who needed babysitting. She had a huge family and went out to babysit. My mom paid me in cigarettes. Carol got cash.
It was a Friday night and Carol had a babysitting job. It was on 46th avenue across Oak street which was, even then a fairly busy main road. Carol did not want to take the job as the family generally got the elder brother to drive her home. She hated that. I promised to meet her and go together.
Friday night was a lousy night and my mother was out later than she thought. When she came home she had absolutely no ambitions to go out again.
Carol called to remind me of my promise. I looked outside to the rain. It was 11 pm.
"Aww I don't want to."
"YOU PROMISED ME!!!"
I whined some more and then in fit of anger she yelled into the phone:
"I HATE YOU" and hung up.
I shrugged and looked outside again. It really was a horrid night.
The phone rang after midnight and it was another friend.
"Have you heard from Carol? She should have called by now."
"Nah" I said. "She is mad cus I didnt come to babysit with her."
My other friend had a bad feeling, but I went to bed and slept like a baby.
The next morning the telephone rang and it was the same friend.
"Carol is dead."
She had refused the ride home and walked in the rain.
She had crossed the main street in the rain wearing her babyblue coat and got hit by a car. She was thrown up in the air and came down in the other lane where someone ran her over. She lay on the side of the road, unidentified, 3 blocks from her own home.
In the hospital morgue, they found a spelling list in her coat pocket. The coroner then called all the English Teacher Head of Departments in the district and at 3 in the morning our English teacher put a name to the cold lonely body on the slab.
It took me alot of years to shed the shame. I believe Carol has forgiven me.
I have almost forgiven myself. These days when someone asks me for a promise I am very careful what I agree to.
Carol Maureen Barker: there is not one single November 30th that I do not stop to remember you. My first and best friend.
The best way to keep one's word is not to give it.
Right now my mind is on the many homeless of this big Island of ours. From Victoria to Comox we are in the throes of sub-freezing weather. Where do the street people sleep?
In Alberta a few decided to sleep in an abondoned bus.
It was a fatal decision. It was not the cold but propane fumes from their heater.
Somehow- - - - we in Paradise have to learn to share better.
The icy roads everywhere?
The drivers crowding my back bumper to endanger all our lives when next they went whizzing past shooting ice and sleet onto my window?
The way I managed to be both late and at the wrong address more than once?
About the roads: They are not just bad they are awful. The highways are passable and the main intersections are fine (all 6 of them) but venture off and you are on your own. No one in their right mind is attempting the drive.
Except HealthCare providers.
Paradise is known for a temperate climate. There is very little in the way of snow removal equipment about in the City yards, and even less manpower to operate it.
One perk of serving the wealthier-than-thou is the private road management.
A few millionaire contractors scattered hither and yon the tony areas I service keep the driveways clear. Oh Thank God for small mercies.
A very good samaritan pushed me out of a scrape today when I was caught on a hill and couldn't quite get going. Still wonderful people around in these terrible days.
Now I am cooking a stuffed flank of pork to have with my mashed potatoes and cabbage.
A little fear was good for me.
Last evening I DID go out and I DID stay out until the end of the event and I DID drive home in the slick startings of a good snowfall. Then I promptly went to bed where sleep eluded me due to,oh, 7 cups of coffee and about 13 desserts, and two extra strength tums.
Not thinking to check my messages, nor even worried about it, I set my alarm and got up fashionably late. This was due to a later than usual start time. Plotting where I would enjoy my morning coffee, I opened the door to winter. How could snow have eluded my mind? It was thick and heavy and UNploughed. The morning coffee routine went into the waste basket.
Whether the city workers were themselves snowed in, or some other cosmic misalignment came into play, the roads were bloody awful. As I drove past the same giant firs and cedars that last week were bending dangerously in the wind, it occurred to me that the weight of heavy snow might be more dangerous.
Parking two blocks away from my destination due to unploughed roads me and my gumboots hiked in. My clientelle is heavy and two workers are required. No surprise, worker 2 did not show up.
I expected the telephone to ring all day but it did not.
That's because it had rang last night and this morning and I had not heard it nor the messages exholling me to call in for changes to my schedule.
Well - - - *MY* clients got service.
I am so very grateful to be home in one piece.
The driving was not without a bit of trepidation, and I did actually do two half doughnuts on the main drag when someone cut in front of me and my brakes were forced into useage. Not fun.
When driving on ice or snow, allow plenty of room to stop and start. ...
Not even one tenth as excited as the people under 15 are about it I sit in my bedroom heat cranked up and heavy wool vest on. Winter is not only cold but now it's slippery as well.
I have another fundraiser tonight to attend but truthfully, it is getting less desirable by the moment. Not a night person. Not a snow person. Not a....
am I a person still? Sometimes I am not entirely sure.
Last night I dreamed I was sitting flicking through Tevildo's wedding album.
Now, where did THAT come from?
The good part about tonight is that a large part of the entertainment is desserts of all sorts. Yummy Yummy. So is my distaste for evenings greater than my love for chocolate?
We shall see.
Forget love -- I'd rather fall in chocolate!!!
1.Love is reality. There'll be a time when you hug somebody, and won't want to let go.
2. Love is relative.
3. Love is risky.
4. Love is redeemable.
5. Love is religious.
Dr. Schuller's 80-year-old brother-in-law met fiancee on eHarmony.com ....
To one who said that myths were lies and therefore worthless, even
though 'breathed through silver'.
Philomythus to Misomythus
You look at trees and label them just so,
(for trees are 'trees', and growing is 'to grow');
you walk the earth and tread with solemn pace
one of the many minor globes of Space:
a star's a star, some matter in a ball
compelled to courses mathematical
amid the regimented, cold, Inane,
where destined atoms are each moment slain.
At bidding of a Will, to which we bend
(and must), but only dimly apprehend,
great processes march on, as Time unrolls
from dark beginnings to uncertain goals;
and as on page o'erwritten without clue,
with script and limning packed of various hue,
an endless multitude of forms appear,
some grim, some frail, some beautiful, some queer,
each alien, except as kin from one
remote Origo, gnat, man, stone, and sun.
God made the petreous rocks, the arboreal trees,
tellurian earth, and stellar stars, and these
homuncular men, who walk upon the ground
with nerves that tingle touched by light and sound.
The movements of the sea, the wind in boughs,
green grass, the large slow oddity of cows,
thunder and lightning, birds that wheel and cry,
slime crawling up from mud to live and die,
these each are duly registered and print
the brain's contortions with a separate dint.
Yet trees are not 'trees', until so named and seen -
and never were so named, till those had been
who speech's involuted breath unfurled,
faint echo and dim picture of the world,
but neither record nor a photograph,
being divination, judgement, and a laugh,
response of chose that felt astir within
by deep monition movements that were kin
to life and death of trees, of beasts, of stars:
free captives undermining shadowy bars,
digging the foreknown from experience
and panning the vein of spirit out of sense.
Great powers they slowly brought out of themselves,
and looking backward they beheld the elves
that wrought on cunning forges in the mind,
and light and dark on secret looms entwined.
He sees no stars who does not see them first
of living silver made that sudden burst
to flame like flowers beneath an ancient song,
whose very echo after-music long
has since pursued. There is no firmament,
only a void, unless a jewelled tent
myth-woven and elf-patterned; and no earth,
unless the mother's womb whence all have birth.
The heart of man is not compound of lies,
but draws some wisdom from the only Wise,
and still recalls him. Though now long estranged,
man is not wholly lost nor wholly changed.
Dis-graced he may be, yet is not dethroned,
and keeps the rags of lordship one he owned,
his world-dominion by creative act:
not his to worship the great Artefact.
man, sub-creator, the refracted light
through whom is splintered from a single White
to many hues, and endlessly combined
in living shapes that move from mind to mind.
Though all the crannies of the world we filled
with elves and goblins, though we dared to build
gods and their houses out of dark and light,
and sow the seed of dragons, 'twas our right
(used or misused). The right has not decayed.
We make still by the law in which were made.
Yes! 'wish-fulfilment dreams' we spin to cheat
our timid hearts and ugly Fact defeat!
Whence came the wish, and whence the power to dream,
or some things fair and others ugly deem?
All wishes are not idle, nor in vain
fulfilment we devise - for pain is pain,
not for itself to be desired, but ill;
or else to strive or to subdue the will
alike were graceless; and of Evil this
alone is dreadly certain: Evil is.
Blessed are the timid hearts that evil hate,
that quail in its shadow, and yet shut the gate;
that seek no parley, and in guarded room,
though small and bare, upon a clumsy loom
weave tissues gilded by the far-off day
hoped and believed in under Shadow's sway.
Blessed are the men of Noah's race that build
their little arks, though frail and poorly filled,
and steer through winds contrary towards a wraith,
a rumour of a harbour guessed by faith.
Blessed are the legend-makers with their rhyme
of things not found within recorded time.
It is not they that have forgot the Night,
or bid us flee to organized delight,
in lotus-isles of economic bliss
forswearing souls to gain a Circe-kiss
(and counterfeit at that, machine-produced,
bogus seduction of the twice-seduced).
Such isles they saw afar, and ones more fair,
and those that hear them yet may yet beware.
They have seen Death and ultimate defeat,
and yet they would not in despair retreat,
but oft to victory have turned the lyre
and kindled hearts with legendary fire,
illuminating Now and dark Hath-been
with light of suns as yet by no man seen.
I would that I might with the minstrels sing
and stir the unseen with a throbbing string.
I would be with the mariners of the deep
that cut their slender planks on mountains steep
and voyage upon a vague and wandering quest,
for some have passed beyond the fabled West.
I would with the beleaguered fools be told,
that keep an inner fastness where their gold,
impure and scanty, yet they loyally bring
to mint in image blurred of distant king,
or in fantastic banners weave the sheen
heraldic emblems of a lord unseen.
I will not walk with your progressive apes,
erect and sapient. Before them gapes
the dark abyss to which their progress tends -
if by God's mercy progress ever ends,
and does not ceaselessly revolve the same
unfruitful course with changing of a name.
I will not treat your dusty path and flat,
denoting this and that by this and chat,
your world immutable wherein no part
the little maker has with maker's art.
I bow not yet before the Iron Crown,
nor cast my own small golden sceptre down.
In Paradise perchance the eye may stray
from gazing upon everlasting Day
to see the day-illumined, and renew
from mirrored truth the likeness of the True
Then looking on the Blessed Land 'twill see
that all is as it is, and yet made free:
Salvation changes not, nor yet destroys,
garden nor gardener, children nor their toys.
Evil it will not see, for evil lies
not in God's picture but in crooked eyes,
not in the source but in malicious choice,
and not in sound but in the tuneless voice.
In Paradise they look no more awry;
and though they make anew, they make no lie.
Be sure they still will make, not being dead,
and poets shall have flames upon their head,
and harps whereon their faultless fingers fall:
there each shall choose for ever from the All.
Now things are a little different as I explore the structure of different webpages to see how things are done. It is really interesting to explore the HTML and yes I know its so 1996 but remember I lost ten years of my life so I am relatively current.
This last while, in November's dark dreary days, I am exploring the way people collapse their archiving. No doubt you can do this with the click of the right button but searching through the code is more fun.
oh who am I fooling. I remain analogue girl in digital world.
But I excel at spotting patterns. It is one of those weird traits I have in spades.
Some of my best skills are really Chinese curses.
Interesting but..... difficult to live with.
I met such a soul this last little while. As I am unable to meet the specific need she has,I have taken advantage of the open referral service that Hospice has. Hospice addresses people with any sort of loss.
No amount of cajoling would make my leaving after one hour acceptable.
I told her that we just had to see her through the winter and then in the Spring she could move. "I won't make it to the Spring," she cried. And yes, she really was crying.
This is the 3rd woman on my client list with identical symptoms.
Their faces are marked from frequent pulling at themselves.
They spent more time pondering the "what-if"s of life than actually living it.
And they live in a home worth well over 300 thousand dollars.
Why do things have to get to this point?
This woman should have been assisted with these tough decisions long ago.
She is lonely. That is pretty much all that is wrong. Lonely and hyper-aware of all that could go wrong in life.
It is very sad.
(cue creepy music)
"Dark energy makes us nervous," said Sean Carroll, a theoretical physicist at the California Institute of Technology who was not involved in the supernova study.
Me too, bud. Me too.
And there's also some energy latent in empty space itself, something we call dark energy, and that's what's controlling the expansion of the universe. So we've learned that the universe has these rather mysterious ingredients. -------- Martin Rees
Unbelievably, 135mm (over 5 inches) of rain fell in Port Alberni today.
Along the highway in and out of Port Alberni, trees fell everywhere.
Now these are not just __any__trees. These are old growth giants.
A short while ago, one of these trees came down by the parking lot in Cathedral Grove.
It squashed a car seriously injuring the occupants. They got off lucky. Last year a couple were killed the same way.
Can you imagine?
The same things happened in Vancouver today with old growth trees in West Vancouver taking out homes. This is crazy weather.
Living here all my life I can say with confidence there has never been weather like this.
It is warm and wet and wild. In November.
We expect another storm on Sunday.
God help us all.
Going out to my car, which is parked in front of my home on a level spot, I stepped into a 4 inch puddle. On a flat surface. --meh--
and it went downhill from there.
The winds and the rain were hurricane force at times and roads were closed, wires were down, trees littering the highways and NO-ONE but NO-ONE out unless they had to be.
I had to be.
One of my visits was to a nice condominium complex right near the downtown of the little Village.
The power went out five minutes into my visit. Then an eerie silence.
We looked out the back window to the cute little patio garden snug and protected from the wind by the other, higher buildings and landscaping. and *snap* just like that! out of nowhere a freak wind came from the southeast and blew the fence over. And the huge rhododendron aside it. And several planters.
The whole work day was like that! Power on. Power off. flicker flicker bang.
I am hugely happy to be home.
This is what the weather network has to say about British Columbia today!
- Rainfall warning for Central Coast-Coastal
- Snowfall warning for Central Coast-Inland
- Wind warning for East Vancouver Island
- Rainfall warning for East Vancouver Island
- Wind warning for Fraser Canyon
- Rainfall warning for Fraser Canyon
- Wind warning for Greater Vancouver
- Rainfall warning for Greater Vancouver
- Wind warning for Greater Victoria
- Wind warning for Fraser Valley
- Rainfall warning for Fraser Valley
- Snowfall warning for McGregor
- Rainfall warning for North Vancouver Island
- Wind warning for Okanagan
- Wind warning for South Thompson
- Wind warning for Howe Sound
- Rainfall warning for Howe Sound
- Wind warning for Sunshine Coast
- Rainfall warning for Sunshine Coast
- Rainfall warning for West Kootenay
- Wind warning for West Vancouver Island
- Rainfall warning for West Vancouver Island
- Wind warning for Inland Vancouver Island
- Rainfall warning for Inland Vancouver Island
- Snowfall warning for Williston
- Snowfall warning for Yellowhead
- Wind warning for Southern Gulf Islands
“Prayers go up and blessings come down”
The other lady also lost her husband but much more recently.
The first lady never worked and has no pensions at all except the Canada Pension and guaranteed income subsidy. She sold her home when her husband died and has been renting ever since. The second lady still lives in her home which will go on the market when she has been moved in. Her home is worth over $300,000.
Both these ladies will pay the same amount and get the same subsidy.
Is it just me or is something wrong here?
Once you have had cervical cancer you tend to get abnormal cells forming along the cervix again. For a horrifying 2 year period I was having this damned exam every second month.
But I am cancer-free and I don't miss the bit of cervix sliced biopsied and lasered. Not necessarily in that order.
The worst part of this examination is the need for a 3rd party to be in the room due to legal reasons. No Doctors want their malpractice insurance used for spurious abuse claims.... but I would still rather sign a waiver of some kind than have that 3rd person in the room.
Everyone has heroes. One of mine is my father's sister, my Auntie Jay.
Auntie Jay had polio as a child in the times before vaccines were available. Alas, the family fell prey to a quack doctor of the times who had the brilliant idea of shortening the *good* leg of those polio survivers with withering limbs.
The operation and subsequent convalescence took up most of my Aunt's young life and she spent a great deal of time in a Sanitorium where she would be wheeled out to the sunshine for a healing sunbath. They left her out there for hours.
Now, 75 years later, she has had over 45 cancers removed from her face and neck as a direct result of signficant overexposure to the sun.
Her once good leg became her bad leg and has a metal rod in it. My aunt was never able to walk far without crutches and as she entered retirement, a wheelchair was mandatory. All the wear and tear on her bones resulted in her spine collapsing. Without wearing a corset of sorts, the bones touch. Indescribably painful.
My great aunt never complains. Never.
If she is asked a direct question about a specific thing she will answer, but she never volunteers it. I am not into martyrs but there is a heroism in her that I admire profusely.
I am thinking about her as she turns 85 this week. As a little girl she was my stalward in that arm of the family. She could always be counted on to remember birthdays with beautiful hand-made cards and thoughtful poetry. A true artist.
Age has robbed her of most of her hearing, most of her mobility, and now, she is legally blind. For a creative person the blindness has hit the hardest. It was fabulous news when I heard she had gotten a new computer complete with a magnification screen for the visually impaired under it.
If I were to win the lottery the very first cheque I would write would be to hire her a private caregiver to come in every single day and do whatever was required to ease her burdens.
There is no doubt in my mind that when we get to heaven Auntie Jay will be sitting close to the throne of God. Perhaps I can catch a long-distance glimpse of her from my seat in the nose bleeds section.
It was another good day. I am pleased that I did not immediatly go to bed after work, unlike yesterday where all day all I could think about was getting home and into bed. Not even a boyfriend about! Where would I put one if I had one?
One of my bathtime rituals is the reading of Vanity Fair magazine cover to cover. It was the November issue's term tonight. Something Princess Leia, Carrie Fisher said rang true.
When asked by that rapscallion George Wayne if she ever has a (prescription) drug-free day. she wisely answered:
"No. I am a mental diabetic."
Well said indeed.
Thank you oh Veterans for my freedom.
"Life is divided into three terms -
that which was, which is, and which will be.
Let us learn from the past to profit by the present, and from the present to live better in the future. " William Wordsworth
The slow ride of long life ends with a few tell-tale roadmarkers along the wayside if you can read them. For many I have known or cared for, the great decline begins with a fall.
It always starts with a fall.
Generally there is another fall. And another. And another.
Eventually something breaks or bleeds so badly hospitalization is required.
Moving to a facility is next. Or staying in the hospital.
The great trick is to decide when the move from independant living to assisted living or from assisted to intermediate care is necessary. If you get there on time, you avoid alot of unpleasantness. People still want to save each other from themselves but the fact of the matter is that when you are in your 90's, your safety has to come first. You have the right to fall. You have the right to live at risk. But at some point your health and safety come before that right.
If you are a significant risk to yourself, you need to be put out of harm's way.
It is always sad though.
Always a tough call.
Gravity is a contributing factor in nearly 73 percent of all accidents involving falling objects.
Sitting in a million dollar home with the Lady of the house who moved there when it was just the point and a gravel road....
She is one of my very most favouritest people. I loves her.
It is embarressing and annoying to her that she needs help but she is in her 90s.
She is a very grateful sort of person who well knows her own eccentricities. I listen to her life and see aspects of my own oddness. We are kindred spirits separated by age and circumstance sharing a strand of time together. She is truly a gift to my mind and heart from the Universe.
Not often do you get elderly women quoting Wordsworth to you in regular conversation.
We were discussing energies and death--- which you may find odd but it is not awkward for either of us. I do not think of her as old and she does not think of me as young. I think of her as a friend really. Not a great personal friend, but another kind soul... of my kind. We are of the same tribe.
When we sit together looking out to the ocean, especially at high tide, it is magnificent.
The energies swirling around there are all positive.
Oh how I love what I do.
And what is it I do?
Not necessarily what the job description is.
Much to the horror of the *people who matter*, I care.
Truly I care.
It is because they represent the best of Canada. Yeah, you hear me, the best!
The boys love their dope all righty, but they mostly love each other.
They are inclusive, tolerant and in some cases, (Julian), sexy!
Sorry, had to put that in.
What other country has a show of low-income societal marginal types breaking and bending the law, enjoying gender doubtful relationships, sending kids out for cigarettes,.... oh the list goes on.
Having actors willing to put themselves way way out there in a role likely to dominate their careers and not necessarily in a way most would covet.... that's Canadian!
Only in Canada would we embrace a former cop gone security guard/supervisor/drunken buffoon/ sexual miscreant/ zipping around with a pot-bellied shirtless former male prostitute syncophant. Oh it just doesn't quite translate to text, now does it?
Trailer Park boys is about family. Their fucked up families love each other.
That's Canadian, eh?
Every available episode of Trailer Park Boys was watched by *me* this last week.
The only one I did not care for was the one where they(Trailer Park Boys: Season 4 - Episode #3 - Rub 'N Tiz'zub) decide to get "ho's" to make some extra cash to buy the trailer park from Mrs. Lahey. It was too ..... trashy?
Having said that, the funniest bit ever for me was in that very episode where Julian awakens in his tin-foiled empty trailer cold and alone and goes out to be with Bubbles in the shed. He wears his sleeping bag over himself to stay warm and Bubbles, who of course has been up late watching conspiracy theory shows particularly on Sasquatches.... calls Ricky who naturally looks out the window and assumes the worse.
The best line ever from the lips of Mrs. Lahey: watch this
"well boys, I heard you beat the shit out of each other last night with baseball bats."
ok ok, I guess you had to be there but did I ever laugh. My belly is still sore.
Aww go ahead, you know you want to!
I am braving it now. Lemme see....
click here and do it with me
(I'm not telling..... )
Last night, having a great deal of jaw pain and not coping with it very well, and knowing that if I take any pain medications I will sink into that awful sadness that overwhelms me when any sort of medication is in my system (other than brain drugs....) I opted to watch the original move "Trailer Park Boys."
This "Trailer Park Boys" is the black and white little faux documentary that launched Ricky and Julian into their own Showcase program. By mid-point I had decided a Tylenol 3 was in order. I do like to actually be able to swallow without weeping. By the end of the show I decided another, my final in the bottle, Tylenol 3 was in order and I fell off to dreamland at 9pm or so.
This morning is my morning to volunteer at the place which brings me such joy and delight. I am expected around 8 am. Some mornings I slink in around 8:15 but today I was not on the job until 08:45 am. I blame Julian.
You see, I have a strange sexual attraction to men with well-defined arm muscles. It is nothing that I consciously have developed, it is one of those hard-wired choices. When I watch "Trailer Park Boys" I am spending way too much time looking at the character Julian's arms. It is the black t-shirt drawing attention to it. A blatant ploy aimed at the silly women like me.
Sitting in my regular breakfast joint, I gaze across the restaurant, nonchalantly of course, and see a man who is #1: alone #2 about my age give or take 10 years --and--
#3 wearing a black teeshirt showing off his not unimpressive arms.
Okay yes, I really am that lame.
Yes yes yes.
See what happens when you are single too long?
At least I don't (yet) have ten cats.
How can you go from glowing matinee idol, beloved of zillions, to scorned and reviled-- without doing anything much different than your neighbour in any town village or city?
After all, he did not bleach his skin like some.... murder his ex wife like some.... chroncile affairs with endless groupies like some....
Why Tom? Why now?
Oh sure I love to pull my idols down too. Only within reason though.
Likea certain lead singer of the band Hole's infamous intrusion to Madonna's MTV interview where she climbed up and fucked up and fell down... THAT's asking for it.
(score with Love singing in the background: "did she ask you nice? If she was asking for it.... did she ask you twice?")
Is Tom Cruise too happy for the great media moguls to tolerate?
Was the world as we know it threatened by his obvious zest for life and love of his work?
Was it too far when he decided to speak his mind, and really tell us what he thought?
Can it be that unscripted movie stars are more dangerous than allowed?
Whatever the reason, Tom is the scapegoat of 2006 in the tabloid press and other media that should know better. I do not happen to think Tom is a bad person because he is a Scientologist. More likely, Tom is a very good person because of his great belief and practise of Scientology. Like many strong minded folk, Tom likes to share what he passionatly believes in with others. In his case, the world.
So damned what?
He is getting the same or worse press that say, George Michael and his men's room forays did.
Who did Tom piss off?
Like it or not unnamed grouches, Tom Cruise will overcome even you.
In the end, who the hell cares what others think?
For my part, I wish him well.
Tom, I envision you holding your newest child and gazing into her clear blue eyes with joy and harmony.
So Tom Cruise; spread that gospel of yours.
Your brand's different from mine but in the end ...
All that ever remains is love.
"Love is an endless act of forgiveness, a tender look which becomes a habit."- Peter Ustinov
This, then is the group for this time juncture:
"Pagans and Christians" Robin Lane Fox
"Jesus" Michael Grant
"The Star Thrower" Loren Eiseley (** found it at last!!! **)
"Work as a Spiritual Practice" Lewis Richmond
I am trying to talk myself into paying attention to the correct reality again.
It is the fool who thinks he cannot be fooled. Joey Skaggs
I did not hate the movie. A few too many Courtney Love references and really, Tom, please oh please affect some new mannerisms for the "okay I am feeling angst now" moments.
I loved Tom Cruise in "Magnolias" where he played the consummate jock asshole saleman "Respect the cock" guy. If I could like him in that movie, and I did, he must be all right as an actor. More than just the guy from "Top Gun" and "Days of Thunder".
Unfortunately for Mr. Cruise we jean and joe averages know all too much about him as skewered through the tabloid press. I bet they didn't tell you about that until after the soul exchange eh Tom?
Vanilla Sky was not as good as "Open your Eyes" even though I saw it with subtitles it definitly is better. Cameron Crowe did a respectable job on the writing and directing here. I watched the movie through and then read the plethora of withering reviews. Critics can be so petty.
Anyone who has had dream delusions or sleep misadventures can identify with the character's problems trying to discern which reality is the one to pay attention to. Unlike the movie "pi" which was so bang on correct with the depiction of where the pain in the brain is, and exactly how to get rid of it, "Vanilla Sky" is a film I can discuss and watch again with no fear of relapse.
After "Pi" I think I took 5 weeks off to get my brain back together again. No shit.
So you see --life with a brain injury isn't all sunshine and roses and being content with one-tenth of what you are capable of. It can be disturbingly surreal seeing aspects of your pain up there for the world to see. My moment was when the character finally can't take the headaches anymore and opts for the handful of meds. Been there done that and oops it didn't take. Unlike the movie character my face looks great. Or at least as great as $56,000 can buy. And I never did have any *visible* scars, except on the top of my head where the hair won't grow, and along my cheek where it looks like a scratch. Nowadays the same things would cost in the hundreds of thousands.
Wallowing in life. That's me.
No, I didn't hate the film.
Tom, you are better than your press. Alot better.
btw: Cameron Diaz is naturally about as freakishly skinny as a person can be without decomposing. No, that is not a compliment but rather a wake-up call to all of us. Why is this one in a hundred million body type being glorified? Is it so the rest of us can never be satisfied? I suspect so. I want a movie queen who is 5 foot 7 and 150 pounds of normalcy.
“I'm very brave generally, he went on in a low voice: only today I happen to have a headache.”
This is on glassgiant:
Binary clocks and binary watches are the ultimate in geekiness. The first one I saw was at thinkgeek.com. This program uses your computer's clock to display the time in a graphical binary format.
*** These are amazing to leave running on the desktop!
I love when people ask me what it is. The occasional geek actually HAS told ME what it is.
Now THAT@S coolness!
--- back to glassgiant's explantion now: ***
How It WorksThe leftmost two columns represent hours, the middle two represent minutes and the last two represent seconds. In addition, each row represents a value of 1, 2, 4 or 8, as indicated. To find out what time it is, simply add the values associated with each active square for each column. If there are no active squares in a column the value is 0.
For example, the sample shows that only the 4 position is lit up in the second column from the right, for a total of 4. The 4 and 1 positions are lit up for the rightmost column, for a total of 5. So, putting these two numbers together, we find that the "seconds" portion of the time is 45. Adding up the remaining columns, we find the time is 22:47:45, or 10:47:45 PM.
For more information on how to count in binary, check out How to Count to 31 on One Hand.
Copyright © 2001-2006 Glass Giant Ltd. All rights reserved.
tidy up! Tidy up! Everything goes into it's place!
tidy up! Tidy up! Now it's time to tidy up!
I am working rather hard at trying to clear out my junk.
Boxes and boxes of stuff never accessed nor sorted since I bought this place in 2001.
In addition to my own nasty garbage, I have had to sort, store and re-gift my father's garbage as well. My stuff just kept getting put further and further to the back of the storage room.
Having resigned from three organizations I must now deliver things which I have been holding on their behalf lo these many years. Oh shit that's a pain in the ass. I have bloody buggery no idea where anything is. Other helpful people have cleaned up around here. Sure it looked good but guess what? They put everything in the storage room in boxes. Not sorted nor labelled.
It's zero hour and I must do it myself. --arg
An inconvenient truth has fallen on my mind.
what does this mean?
Well mostly it most inconveniently means that I must sort this stuff out MYSELF and put it away MYSELF as only I am responsible for it. All that other stuff above is just a very great distraction method my diabolically clever mind contrived to keep me busy.
Be careless in your dress if you will, but keep a tidy soul. Mark Twain
From Dreams to reality; up and out I go into the autumn winds.
It is amazingly windy outside. As I walk along the avenue, I am pelted by maple leaves. They all seem to be aiming straight for my head.
I head to the seaside where the whitecaps are amazing. Two brave windsurfers are out in the bay. One of my kite friends is trying to set up his kiteboarding stuff.
It has been legitimised as a quasi-extreme sport now and has a new name too but I cannot remember it. Fly something or other.
More of my old friends see me and call out: "Where are your kites?"
I just smile and wave.
I miss Ray Bethel and the times from long ago when we flew together outside the Maritime Museum and the big deal was landing your kites on the big sculpture.
Now Ray does the routine he and I did together all alone flying 3 kites.
I miss that. Watching him put on his show was alot of fun. A true people-pleaser. Ray was born to entertain.
I do not miss flying though. I had many golden years and the experience of being with world-class fliers. The memory is enough. I can't stand the sun anymore and I get too cold. What an old lady.
Coming back it is oak leaves smacking into me. I pass the last large Oak tree in this area and sadly note the property is in the rezoning process. Paradise is getting ever more crowded. I see our resident homeless by choice fellow and he is with a woman. (!!) She is completely plastered. Or something. She is my age.
It could be me, under our circumstances. He is holding her up and trying to talk her into going home. To her home. To sleep it off. Nice guy.
Now I too am home.
I am warm in my cozy little place here and happy.
It's coming along. Give it a few more weeks and I may be all right after all.
Out in space again way way out there and loving it. I am dimly aware this is a dreamstate I am in. There is a nagging thought that I am being stalked.
That seems very odd to me as I am surrounded by billions of miles of open space.
Still there is something out there disturbing me.
Now I feel it upon me. It is just me and it way out in space.... and I scream....
Now I am falling falling falling...
down and down millions of miles a second and still I fall...
I wake up sitting, covered in sweat. Not one cover remains on the bed.
I am shaking. Whatever it was out there scared me to bits.
The remaining bits of me carried on with the day.
A quick blog search to find out if I am the only one confessing to being a sleep phobic due to night terrors. I found some interesting people and things with a click of the mouse.
I hear you all my friends. Night is not our friend.
Yet once more, O ye Laurels, and once more
Ye Myrtles brown, with Ivy never-sear,
I com to pluck your Berries harsh and crude,
And with forc'd fingers rude,
Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year.
Bitter constraint, and sad occasion dear,
Compels me to disturb your season due:
For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime
Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer:
Who would not sing for Lycidas? he well knew
Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme.
He must not flote upon his watry bear
Unwept, and welter to the parching wind,
Without the meed of som melodious tear.
Which of the Valier (Silmarillion ~ LotR) are You?
You are Varda, Queen of the Stars. You are the
most beautiful and powerful of all the Valier,
and are most beloved of the Elves. They praise
you, and cry out to you in their need. You are
the spouse of Manwe.
Sitting with an Insurance Adjustor discussing my claim for damages to my rear bumper incurred in a very minor parking lot accident. I had been telling her that I was planning to have the car detailed anyway and that my damages were minimal. The other vehicle that backed into me had more damage as it was the driver's side door.
The accessor brought his report into the interview room.
My adjustor looked across the desk and told me the amount it would likely cost to repair my scratches.
Up until that moment I was holding the high road.
Suddenly I became concerned with assessed liability.
Because of my excellent driving record (her words, not mine) the worst case scenario is that my yearly premium will go up by $17.00
I can handle that.
A very large part of me wants the accident to be 100% the other driver's fault.
Tsk tsk tsk.
T'is Thanksgiving eve and I am the turkey, stuffed and dressed.
We had a wonderful Thanksgiving dinner featuring mostly vegetarian dishes and one bar-be-qued chicken. With only two people eating meat it seemed silly to make a turkey. I did make stuffing and a compote instead of a meat-based gravy. It was onion and mushroom, pear apple raisin and cinammon compote and it was absolutely delicious. We had mashed potatoes and butternut squash baked in a glaze, we had brussel sprouts and pickled beets and yummy pumpkin pie with fresh whipping cream for dessert.
I am thankful for such a marvellous feast.
I am grateful for my job which I love despite the conditions of employment.
I am appreciative of each soul I encounter along the way and the lessons I am learning.
And I don't have a gun.