I have an awesome -albeit wierd- cat...

His name is Magick. See! Here he is.....

Magick is getting up there in age. He is 13, which equals something like 90 for humans. But you would never know this by him. He is spry, wiry and a complete and total jerk. Hence his more affectionate name...Jerkyboy.

In addition to the above, he is tremendously smart. Door opening- smart.

But more than that, I fully believe e is psychic.

I say he is psychic, because whenever I am not feeling well, or sad, or pissed off, he will come out of nowhere just to annoy the hell out of me. He has some sort of uncanny ability to tell when I am about to get up and do something. Most everytime I nees to get up to visit the W.C. or throw a load of laundry in; here he comes, stomping on me with his sharp little pointy feet. He is very heavy and he knows how to displace all his weight onto a single foot that he likes to grind in between ribs.

He is half standard black kitty and half Tonkinese; and one night Big J had a dream in which he (J) learned Magick's secret name.... It was something like Hung Sung Lai... Which is interesting, because it was VERY Vietnamese-like, and as it turns out, Tonkinese cats are from Vietnam. BigJ didn't know that Mag is Tonkinese.

Possibly the most bizarre evidence...Back when I was in college, I lived in this dumpy little house in Tahlequah, America that had an awesome, huge bathtub. I used to LOVE to take baths there (Mag loves to hang out with me while I bath, pervy yes, but wait it gets worse...). So I was taking a bath, I had my head under the water, and I had the distinct sensation that a man walked into the bathroom. So distinct that I can still see him in my mind. Well of course, I immediately sat straight up, scared shitless, but there was no man there. However, Magick was sitting exactly where this man had been standing. Spooky eh?

I love my kitty. He is, despite beging difficult to live with a great critter to share space with. I just wanted to share.

Oceania has always been at war with Eastasia....

Earlier I posted a blog about some pizza that I was cooking.
But I've decided to be a revisionist.....
I did not cook pizza this evening, nor will I ever cook pizza.
And if I had, I would not have made the whole wheat crust. Somethings need further processing...

I love this world!!

Fun (albeit nerdy) game... I scored 113.
The map is a bit too small, but it's still fun.

Know your world?

Courtesy PiP

Catharsis -OR- Fight Club for women.....

....sound like a hair loss commercial..But no, it's not. As I sit on my asian inspired futon, nursing a spazzing shoulder, high on soma, and peer over the top of my laptop at Fight Club; I wonder to myself, "Self, why are there no Fight Club-girly movies? " The closest I can think of is La Femme Nikita, and possibly even Thelma and Louise but those are both nearing the two decade mark. Really, where are the strong woman movies that aren't souped up gooey-soft porn? I want a movie where a woman can kick ass, and still be a woman. I suppose it is contrary to social norms. I dunno, maybe I'm just out of the loop. If you've suggestions, let me know.

I got up in everyone's hostile little faces....Yes these are bruises from fighting. Yes, I'm comfortable with that. I, am enlightened.

Pain. Life is pain. Maybe it is Barb's death; maybe it is an innate melancholy streak. I dunno, but something is sitting with me, nagging me like an old fishmonger’s wife; and I have to think that ignoring the existence of pain, doesn’t make it go away. Rather, it sticks it in a corner to fester. I recently had a similar discussion with some of my students. "Ms. E, does it hurt to get a tattoo or..pierced.." to which I always reply, "Anytime, you take something sharp and jab it into your skin repeatedly, it hurts. Anyone who tells you it doesn’t is lying. But the pain is relative." Then I have to explain what I mean by "relative" -they are just 9th graders after all. More importantly, to me, getting a tattoo has always been a metaphor for life. There is all this pain and blood, and anxiety, but the end result is something beautiful.

We simply cannot live without pain. It is the proverbial yin to our shiny, happy yang.

About mid-to-late Fight Club Pitt’s character, subjects Norton’s character to a chemical burn from lye. While he is holding on to Norton’s hand he gives the following discourse:

Without pain, without sacrifice, we would have nothing…this is your pain…deal with it don’t put it away and wait til it’s dead…what you’re feeling is premature enlightenment…this the greatest moment of your life and you’re off somewhere missing it…our father were our models for god…if our fathers fail, what does that tell you about god? You have to consider the possibility that god does not like you, he never wanted you, in all probability, he hates you….first you have to give up…you have to know, not fear that someday you’re gonna die…It’s only after we’ve lost everything, that we’re free to do anything.

Now, I am by no means advocating the blind anarchy of the movie, however, I do believe that there is something that resonates within me, from that soliloquy. While we are living our lives in the “high times”-all is well, the bills are paid, there’s food in the fridge and you just got back from vacation with the family- we are living in a sort of happy induced stupor. It is true that we “don’t know what we got till it’s gone.” The recognition comes during those not so happy daze. The good friend commits suicide, a foreclosure, you lose your job, your love, a child. Loss and pain bring relativity to the equation.

Where I differ from what Pitt-Tyler is waxing on about is the idea that god hates you. As a Buddhist, I don’t see god in the same way. Buddhists view each individual as having the same innate godliness inside. Everyone is endowed with the same Buddha-nature. We are God. So, I do suppose that if you hate yourself, then, you do hate God, and in turn God hates you.

Now, on to the recognition of death. I had a high Lama say one time that Buddhist practice is all preparation fro the acceptance that you and everything you love, will die. It is all one prelude to the final swan song.

At the near-end of Fight Club Pitt’s-Tyler holds a gun to the back of the “human sacrifice-Raymond’s” head and tells him that he is going to die. Pitt-Tyler asks what Raymond wanted to be. Raymond manages to spit out “veterinarian.” Pitt-Tyler asks why Raymond has not achieved that goal, and Raymond answers “too much school.” To which Pitt-Tyler retorts “.. would you rather die behind a convenience store?” He then takes Raymond’s driver’s license, and threatens that if he is not “on his way to become a vet within six weeks, [Tyler] will kill him.” Then Tyler lets him go. Pitt-Tyler’s response is that “imagine how he feels….tomorrow will be the most beautiful day of Raymond K. Tessell’s life. His breakfast will taste better than any meal you or I have ever tasted.”

Seems bleak when typed out, but the reality of it is, that we DO have moments of peace and beauty. The key to learn to recognize those and feel them as viscerally and as profoundly as we feel the despondency. All those clichés, became cliché for a reason. It really is darkest before the dawn.

Odd synhronicity

I wrote the following the night before my frined died from a prolonged overdose. The night before and the day that she died, I had the most inexplicable sense of despair. Though occasionally victim to depression, I am not one who often allows the heaviness to overcome me, but on Tuesday, November 6, I felt such anguish. I had no idea what was happeing with my friend.
I can only assume that some sort of bond was being broken. Barbie and I lived together off and on for a years, back in our college days. We were on the same plane on so many levels. Succinct.
We were close during our pagan days, we looked into past lives together, read cards, cast birth charts, and spent time tinkering in areas that on occasion backfired. But I have to assume that my last-Tuesday, her last Tuesday, was a release of some past connection we had
During my sorrowful Tuesday. I had two voices that came to me. Outside me. Stopped my tears with two words. Calmed and reassured me, and let me know that I would be all right.
Eat.

Sleep.

The two things I did, as I heard" them, is a soothing internal voice. When I woke up, I felt better.
Here is what I wrote Monday night, before going to bed.

Begin anew, all over again
Cry sad tears
soft tears
hurt tears

Where is the vigor of yesterday?
Oh yeah, today happened.
"Your eyes are getting sleepy."
The ultimate drug
- sleep.
We're all addicted.
Can't get enough.
Gonna go get a fix.


My friend. I wish your journey into your next life is a smooth one. I hope that all your suffering is eased. All the joy you brought to those around you- you did bring joy- will surf you on into another incarnation where you can see how loved you really are.
Namaste Barb.

Barbie

Two days is a long time to die-

lying on your bedroom floor.

Waiting.

Were you waiting?

Two days is a lot to miss.

Two sunrises.

Two sunsets.

Forty-eight hours of anything.

There was a comet on the horizon-

Did you know that?

I was only a few hours away and you didn't call!

Two days is a long time to die.

What were you thinking?

Were you thinking?

In those daze of your death-

was is all anger and pain?

Or did you remember some of the other?

Is he really worth our loss?

Two days is a long time to die-

But a lifetime is a lot longer to live without a friend.