Aversions

There are these idiosyncratic behaviors that we all have--one category of which is what I would call "aversions." I have them, and I understand where some of them came from and some are just mysterious. The dictionary defines aversion as a feeling of repugnance toward something with a desire to avoid or turn from it.

Some of mine are:

Touching the toilet seat to lift it up. That's why I always have one of those fuzzy covers on it. I will touch that.

Walking on hard floors with my bare feet. So i have tender baby feet. And i just can't stand the thought of them being dirty, either. Socks are just as bad if you have hard wood or other hard surface floors.

Dirty or stained teeth. Really. There's not excuse for this. There are a slew of products we can carry in our pockets that take care of this even when you're away from home.

Physical obstacles. --As in things in my environment that keep me from moving freely, functioning smoothly.


My sleep-pant legs pulling up. I think this is largely due to my aversion to unshaven legs rubbing together. I fail to shave everyday to keep them smooth, so this issue is inevitable. I still search for cuffed sleep pants that are as comfy as those Hanes ones I buy in the men's department.



Leftovers. I just think variety is the spice of life and at my age, i find that i am more and more bored with food. That's why restaurants like the Golden Corral are so attractive to me. I can choose among a hundred different things.

Family. --as I have never had a good experience with any family.

Filthy kitchen or bathroom. Nothing repulses me faster than visiting someone's home, only to find that their kitchen and/or bathroom looks like it is better suited for a crack house...

Calling customer service. Is it just me, or has customer service become an oxymoron in today's society? I hate the rudeness, the endless automated menus, and getting disconnected, only to have to start from the beginning again. I will avoid these phone calls like a flesh eating bacteria. I'd sooner perform an appendectomy on myself with a spoon.

Ball caps on women. Not every woman can pull it off without looking butch. I like my women to look like girls. Maybe it's because i lived in South so long and had to see all the Dykes wearing them, with their extra 80 pounds, short hair, and man-clothes. These types probably walk barefoot on the floor, have dirty bathrooms and kitchens, and no toilet seat cover.

Aversions

Face Down in the Low Road

(originally published 13January 2011, taken down out of respect for my partner, but now that things tanked, and she was arrested for domestic violence against me, and i have since moved, all bets are off).

I always try to take the high road. But when people mush your face into the mud of the low road, you have to work with what you've got.

What am i talking about? I'm talking about relationships with people. History is replete with jokes about them. But we often joke about the things that are the most painful. It's how human beings reframe and share that commonality of the human condition.

But i have been unable to find anything funny about a group of people that decided to hate me from the start. And why do they hate me? Obviously, some misplaced threat that i represent. I am taking something away from them. I am "forcing" them to do things they don’t want to do, simply because what they’re doing is not acceptable to me. 

I am "forcing" the mother (her belief) to move out of her daughter's house and get her own place. Just like they decided a long time ago before i came on the scene; just as she should do, unless she expects her daughter to keep her life on hold after having 15 years of a rotten relationship before, and unless she expects that D. doesn't deserve to be happy; and unless she expects to live with her daughter for the rest of her life for fear that she might have to take care of herself and spend time alone...perhaps she's afraid she won't like the company. I don't.

And there's even one "friend" in the bunch who has betrayed my partner--also apparently because of me. (If I were only a tiny bit more insecure, i would think that i was some kind of unwitting monster. But i know better). Now, while i find this threat-stance absurd, since a partner never can take the place of a mother or a friend or a sister, absurdity cannot make way for reason in their minds. The irony is that people do all kinds of things to avoid the things they fear most, and those things can often lead them head-on into the very results they seek to avoid.

All i know is, i find it reprehensible that a group of people who profess to love D. are doing everything in their power to destroy her life. The stress this has caused us both has resulted in fighting, sleepless nights,and sleeping nights filled with nightmares; it has caused D. to leave the only job she felt she was perfect for; it has caused trips to the doctor for medication she's never had to take in her life; it's triggered every fear, every insecurity, every pain, and every ounce of anger I have ever possessed, and it's done it all at once and in spades.

And all because being petty and selfish and shallow is more important than having integrity, character and love.

For a while, there was not even a tiny part of me that was open to reconciliation. It would take a great deal of sincerity and heartfelt apologies, the sort that come from personal epiphany and evolution. Now, there is a tiny part, but i think only because I find it so sad for D. that she has been dragged behind this horse for so long, and for no reason that makes any sense. I know what it's like to have a family betray you, and that kind of pain never completely goes away. The larger part of me, however, hopes that they have this sort of pain visited on them, and they learn, viscerally, what it's like to have that kind of injury inflicted on them. Only then will they appreciate what they have done. The damage they have caused. And only then, can they ever hope to make it right again. I hope, for my partner's sake, they do make it right. But until then, we must behave as though they don't exist. Acknowledging that  this kind of selfish cruelty exists--and in your family--is just too painful to consider for longer than a nano-second.

Face Down in the Low Road

Supernatural Completion

I finally ordered the proofs for my 6 volume book, Supernatural Hypocrisy: The Cognitive Dissonance of a God Cosmology. It will be available for the Holiday Shopping season.
Volume 1: Cosmology of God & Jesus
Volume 2: Cosmology of Christianity
Volume 3: Cosmology of the Bible
Volume 4: Cosmology of the Dark Side
Volume 5: Cosmology of Science
Volume 6: Cosmology of Atheism

Three years in the making, this is not a project I would like to do very often. It was mentally, emotionally and physically draining. The amount of research, double-checking, rewriting, formatting and other such mundane details were often mind-numbing. Then there was the constant decision-making about what information goes where--the subject of each volume often overlaps the subject of another, and I was constantly trying to keep track of where it all should go. It was, literally, like working on six books at a time. I crashed my Firefox browser and Word frequently.

But I believe this work is unique, in that it is in 6 volumes; I didn't have to hyperfocus on one area of the subject matter, and condense it down so much. I could cover the territory i wanted to cover--share my journey--without leaving out any crucial bits that ultimately led me to my personal cosmology. I addressed each one I felt was primary in the search for understanding. So the book is fairly comprehensive in that way, though i learned quickly that there could have been another 6 volumes.

Just a couple stats:

• In all 6 volumes combined, there are 1,322 pages and I used 477 sources.
• I referenced Wikipedia only once, because it was the only place to get a biographical tidbit on a certain person. Otherwise, i used only reputable sources--science, news magazines, journals, newspapers, books-- including many translations of the Bible, and translations of the Septuagint, Pseudepigrapha and other apocryphal texts.

I drew from a wide array of source-types and areas of study. The information and examination I used considered many different disciplines. Some of those include:

• anthropobiology --  study of human biology
• anthropology -- study of human cultures
• archaeology -- study of human material remains
• astronomy -- study of celestial bodies
• bioecology -- study of interaction of life in the environment
• biology --  study of life
• bionomics  -- study of organisms interacting in their environments
• Egyptology -- study of ancient Egypt
• epistemology -- study of grounds of knowledge
• genesiology  -- study of reproduction and heredity
• genetics -- branch of biology that studies heredity and variation in organisms
• geochronology -- study of measuring geological time
• geogeny --  science of the formation of the earth's crust
• geogony -- study of formation of the earth
• geography -- study of surface of the earth and its inhabitants
• geology -- study of earth's crust
• geomorphogeny -- study of the origins of land forms
• glossology  --  study of language; study of the tongue
• historiology --  study of history
• ichnology  -- science of fossilized footprints
• iconography -- study of drawing symbols
• iconology -- study of icons; symbols
• ideogeny --  study of origins of ideas
• ideology -- science of ideas; system of ideas used to justify behavior
• idiomology -- study of idiom, jargon or dialect
• lexicology --  study of words and their meanings
• liturgiology  -- study of liturgical forms and church rituals
• metaphysics --  study of principles of nature and thought
• microbiology -- study of microscopic organisms
• micropalaeontology --  study of microscopic fossils
• mythology --  study of myths; fables; tales
• neuropsychology -- study of relation between brain and behavior
• noology -- science of the intellect
• palaeoanthropology -- study of early humans
• palaeobiology -- study of fossil plants and animals
• palaeontology -- study of fossils
• patrology -- study of early Christianity
• philology -- study of ancient texts; historical linguistics
• philosophy -- science of knowledge or wisdom
• physics --  study of matter and its motion through spacetime
• pisteology -- science or study of faith
• psychology --  study of mind
• psychopathology -- study of mental illness
• satanology --  study of the devil
• sedimentology  -- study of sediment
• semantics -- study of meaning
• sociobiology -- study of biological basis of human behaviour
• sociology -- study of society
• stratigraphy -- study of geological layers or strata
• theology --  study of religion; religious doctrine
• thermodynamics -- study of relation of heat to motion
• zooarchaeology --  study of animal remains of archaeological sites
• zoogeography -- study of geographic distribution of animals
• zoogeology  -- study of fossil animal remains
• zoology -- study of animals

If understanding belief, religion, God, and truth creates a list like that, then over-simplification of science by Believers,  is a little  infuriating.

This has been a taxing journey for me, but one which had to be taken. I have grown so much in my knowledge and understanding, and I have absolutely no doubt where i stand on the issue of religion. For myself, or for the world. My hope is that readers will find this work compelling, entertaining, informative and helpful in their own discernment of what they do and do not believe.

Supernatural Completion

Happy Meals

D. and I had dinner with two of my old high school friends, Wendy and Bud, whom I hadn't seen in (coughing mumble) 30 years. We'd reconnected on Facebook  a year or two ago and had kept in touch since then. It felt oddly surreal on the way to see them, and yet was perfectly comfortable once we got there. It had me thinking about how time passes, and after a while, I can scarcely believe I've been on the planet this long.  

But to see two people whom i recall as high school sweethearts, and who had managed to not only stay married all that time, but seemed genuinely happy together--it renewed my hope for my own new relationship. I guess i can only wish I had started it 30 years ago as well.

As we said our farewells, and were leaving Old Chicago, D. and I were approached by two young men. One said "Do you have any extra food we can have?" They were both bedraggled, dirty, wearing old backpacks, and they did look hungry. While i was thinking about it, D. just handed them our leftovers. They thanked us profusely, and started walking ahead of us, while opening the Styrofoam containers...exclaiming. "Oh, wow! are these Calzones?" D. said yes. They began eating voraciously while they walked ahead of us, saying thank-you through the food in their mouths. 

"They didn't ask for money," she said. "They asked for food. I'll always give food to anyone like that who asks. Hell, I'll tell them to follow me down to Burger King, and I'll buy them a meal, if I don't have one in my hand like this time." It was a good point. One which took me a little too long to decipher. But it's that simple. There are many panhandlers on our city streets who have a home and plenty of income, but they go out and beg for money, telling lies and tugging on heartstrings to get what they want. I've never understood that, but it has made me jaded in those situations. Too jaded, perhaps, to discern the situation we were in for what it was. There are STILL those on the streets who really need help. And it's an easy thing to give it to them with gestures just like the one my partner made.  

I felt my eyes well with tears. Partly for compassion that they were obviously in a bad situation and hungry, and partly because my partner had just demonstrated the quality of her heart. 

And I thought about how our lives are so tenuous, fortune so often fickle. I thought of how lucky I was to have met her. And again lamented that it took this long to find my life partner. But then, who knows if we would have been enough of who we are now to be compatible then? And if i start wishing for things to have been different, I run the risk that they would have have been the kind of different that would have led me so far away from her life trajectory, that we simply could not have met at all. 

And i recalled my own dark days when i was living in my van,¹ in pain and crippled and feeling like the whole world had turned its back on me--often wondering if I was going to have anything to eat, and being humiliated by my situation repeatedly, hating people in general and always assuming everyone sucked. But those boys on the street--I had no way of knowing their story. They might have been escaping from an abusive home, the only way they knew how.  I also had a story back then, didn't I? But very few knew what that story was, nor cared to hear it. I recalled how it made me feel. And I was so proud of D. for handing those boys that food. I only wish I had not hesitated to do the same. My experience with the disappointments of the world, and the people in it, had made me resistant to a compassion that should always be part of who I am. I then felt the urge to go buy a bunch of Happy Meals and start handing them out to boys like that.

So last night I had a Happy Meal with old friends and a new love, and watched two hungry boys have their own Happy Meal, but one begged from strangers as leftovers, and not sitting down at a table with the rest of us. The world needs more of the former and less of the latter.

------------------------------------------
¹ I had the opportunity to write and publish my memoir about this time in my life-available in the next few weeks from Amazon. "Falling Through the Cracks: The Misadventures of No One Famous." see http://jaebaeli.com

Happy Meals

Conduit

I listen to her talk about herself, her life, her sorrows, her joys. I listen and I wait for an opportunity to take part in this discussion that is primarily one-sided. When will she ask about me? When will she want to know how I'm doing and what I feel and what my joys and sorrows are?

I wanted to take the high road and leave grudges behind. But really, is that what I'm doing? Or is it deeper? 

She is a conduit to the past. I don't know that i really want to be friends with her, so much as i might feel she can channel information to all those other people who judged me harshly and continue to hold opinions about me I feel are unfair and myopic. 

She also needs to understand and take responsibility for the damage she inflicted on me all those years ago, and i don't think she does.

Conduit

Making a Spectacle of Myself

Sometimes i need to go to the store, or otherwise leave the house and drive, when i don't want to put in my contacts. This means i must wear my glasses. This also means-due to a light sensitivity-that I must use those geeky clip-on sunglass lenses. Well, inevitably, i spend the $10 to buy a pair, and then break them. 


So yesterday, i had to make a quick trip to the Circle K, and realized it was daylight (oh horrors). I decided i would--as I've done before--simply put some sunglasses over my spectacles. Problem was, the sunglasses i had on hand, though voluminous as always, were all incapable of fitting over my spectacles. But they fit nicely underneath them. SO i drove to the store this way.

When i got out, my mind was on bigger things, and i went in and came out and then glanced in the rear view mirror to see that i had indeed worn this crazy configuration on my face into the store for my purchase.


Recounting this story to my partner, D., I was given the enjoyable, yet disturbing gift of her laughter--more than I'd ever made her laugh before.


That's the thing I'm trying to focus on.

Making a Spectacle of Myself

The Universe as Conscious Nemesis

Tuesdays. Usually innocuous. A day between that awful first day after the weekend and the hump-day that keeps us going until we reach another weekend.

But mine was off-kilter. It began in the wee hours, as any lurking ghost-reporters would have told you, I was cursing (again) the sad state of affairs in the world of Customer Service. They should just go ahead and change that moniker to Customer Disservice. I was on hold with Comcast, trying to figure out why I could not get online. This, after spending the last week, at the rate of 10 or 12 hours a day, trying to get my failing computer back into working status. There had been some nasty viruses in residence, that i finally found and removed using Malwarebytes. Seems the mother of them all these days is called AntiVir Solution Pro. It's claim to PC-crashing fame is that it pretends to be a program that found some nasty malware on your computer and politely--then insistingly--offers to remove it if you click the button. It even tells you it can sell you the ultimate way to get rid of them. All that clicking does is infect your computer more. The really malicious part of this fake-spyware program, is that it usurps your computer so completely, that you can almost never get around it. It keeps you from opening any program--including another virus checker. I got around it by booting into Windows and quickly going to task manager and removing any unfamiliar processes running, before the virus could take over. Then i ran Malwarebytes and got rid of it. But the damage was done. Apparently, there had been some corruption going on for some time. Anyway, I was trying to get back online so i could do some research and fix the other residual issues, and just could not get the networking devices to operate. So when I was on hold with Comcast for about a half hour, i finally reached someone, and then promptly got disconnected. I didn't call back. I was afraid I'd have a short fuse and couldn't bear talking to some foreign person who couldn't understand English--after i had so carefully pressed one for English.

So I called my tech service, Magic Flash Drive, and connected with the one guy who didn't seem to know what he was doing. They had no selection for English, and so I got a guy from --i don't know--Pakistan? Heavy accent, language barrier--there was no way to tell him what was going on, it seemed. He kept asking me stupid questions that let me know he hadn't understood a word i said. "Did you press enter?" or "are your cables connected?" In fairness, he's the only one at MFD service I found like this. The other two guys I've dealt with have been great. I've discovered that the good ones always seem to work after 11pm.  Anyway, I was very frustrated, and by this time, my partner, D. was about to be home from work (she's a night supervisor, EMT and Security Officer for a certain community. Love a woman with a stethoscope and a gun).

Ready for a break from the Tech-nightmare, I stood up, cursing my screwed up knee, and D.'s 100 year old Siamese, Kidd, urped on the floor, and so I had to clean that up. Then I was heading for the fridge for water,  walked into the dining room, and found a surprise. A big puddle compliments of The Little Bastard, as i call him. He's an irritating, incontinent dog who comes upstairs from the basement apartment, currently occupied by my partner's mom. He had finally managed to claw down the gate and make it upstairs. It's a stark reminder of why I don't generally like dogs. So i had to clean up that mess. 

Then D. called and says that she'll be late, because she had a flat, and gave me the whole story of how completely aggravating the whole thing was, and then she finally made it home and we went to my doctor's appointment at the VA.

Now, i have a knee-jerk stress response to going to the VA. My normal blood pressure of 120/70 become 145/100. It's related to that whole nightmare i went through for years with them and the military (for more details than you could ever hope for, see my memoir, Falling Through the Cracks: The Misadventures of No One Famous for a full telling of that crap). Surprisingly, the appointment itself was good. Meaning, I didn't feel the need to kill anyone, but the medication I needed would require a visit with another doctor, and that might be a week away. 

When i came out, i had to text D. to find her. Seems she'd gone to put money in the parking meter and found a ticket from the overzealous security folks who work there. 25 bucks because her tire was a bit over the line--only because the guy next to her parked like he was legally blind, and was way over the line on the other side of her. Bastards, all.

We took pictures of the situation, just in case we needed to plead the case, but ultimately, you just have to pay tickets like that when you work at night and would have no sleep on court day, and then have to go back to work that night in that condition. So much for professional courtesy. Or good sense.

So after that, we went back home and she had house and yard stuff to do so I could go do some errands I'd put off--deposit a rebate check into my dangerously low account, and to Wal-mart. On the way, at least three people tried to kill me with their paltry driving skills. When i got to the bank, i found they were not opening until 10am, so i had to put the check into the ATM night deposit. But I didn't know my account number. Luckily that was in my iPhone, but unluckily, my iPhone was in the Cherryot. So i had to walk way over to where i had found the last parking space on earth, and get it, and look up my number. I finally got the deposit in, sure that the scary bandanna-wearing Mexican guy was a gang member about to honor his initiation by mugging me, (but avoided that fate, at least) and headed off to Wal-mart to return the airbed i had purchased in an effort to find rest since the demise of my coveted foamy mattress.

I am afflicted with an inability to sleep on anything other than foam. I had been worried I would never be able to get another mattress like that because it seems that foam is made from petroleum products and we all know how the prices have risen on that. The mattress i was replacing had cost me $80 five years ago. Now, it seems, a comparable one (8" high density

sofa foam, sized for a full bed) was now around $300 and to cut it they would only charge $600 or so. Insane. For that price, i thought, I could just go with memory foam. But i knew those beds were several thousand. I thought maybe i could find just the mattress. So i began to search. My best friend was always trumpeting about the wonders of Overstock.com for good deals on everything, and so i looked there, and lo! --I found a 4 inch mattress topper in memory foam for around $80. I decided four inches of foam was better than no inches at all. (See? size really does matter). I ordered it and had it shipped. So, the trip to Wal-mart was to return the airbed, which was half-deflated the next morning after using it the first time. We took it off the bed and went back to the regular mattress with an eggcrate foam piece on top.

As most of you who read this blog knows, in the interim, i had to put my cat, Shoes, to sleep, and was dealing with the crash of my computer, which renders my whole life to shreds, and i just

didn't do much of anything else for a while, including keep track of the fine print on receipts that said airbeds had to be returned within a certain number of days. So here I am at Wal-Mart, dumbly trying to get a refund. When the clerk explained the time-limit, I argued. (What a shock.) I told her I had been dealing with a computer crash and a sick cat who i had lost, and just didn't get back in here in that time. Didn't' know there was a limit. She refused. I asked to speak to her manager. She refused. I asked to speak to the manager above her, and HE refused. Now, I'm thinking about my cat again, and crying, and thinking about my dead-in-the-water computer, and crying some more, and angry and upset that i seem to have wasted $45 on a bed i wouldn't use. The best they could do was exchange it. So they gave me another bed of the same kind. I left feeling like this was another example of stupid rules that should be broken sometimes by those with the authority to do so.

As i was unlocking the door to come back in the house, i heard a crash. I walked in and said "What the fuck?" A cabinet had fallen forward, inexplicably, and scattered two potted plants, trinkets and a store of food all over the dining room floor. I thought it was lucky I'd cleaned up the pee, or else we would have been plucking that stuff out of a stinky puddle. I asked her how the hell it fell over and she said she didn't know. It just fell over. For no apparent reason. There were no cats anywhere near it. I told her that the shadow people she always saw at night at work, who appeared and disappeared, must have followed her home, and oh great, now we have our own poltergeist. We cleaned up the mess and I said, "Baby, I think the universe is out to get us today and we ought to just stay inside and hide everything sharp." She agreed. We are of like-mind.

I told her about all the crap I had been dealing with, and that I had cleverly decided i would just wait a few days and take the airbed to another Wal-mart and get a refund within the time limit. That's when D. pointed out that the clerk had written "exchange only" on the receipt. Foiled again.

So I have to wonder, when I have days like that, if there really is such a thing as a conscious universe, and if it has the ability to peg you as the subject of its wrath. At least now, those bad days are shared with someone who loves me, and we can weather the storm together.

The Universe as Conscious Nemesis

Shoes

It all happened so fast.

Since moving in with my girlfriend 6 weeks ago, my cat Shoes had a hard time adjusting. I figured she was used to being the matriarch. She had always been sweet and even- tempered. I couldn't figure out why she seemed so unhappy. She even began to growl and hiss at me and the other two cats of mine, who were like siblings to her. She had been the mommy cat to them since i got them both when they were kittens. 

Then four days ago, she began to howl when i picked her up and she just wasn't acting normally, even for a stressed cat in a new situation.


After two days she was vomiting several times a day, and I could tell she had not been eating or drinking, and she still behaved as though she was in pain. D and I took her to the vet on the 18th, and they took X-rays which showed some inflammation on one side and a small calcification, but nothing else. We took her back home with antibiotics and pain meds and hoped she'd get better.


There was no change this morning, so we took her back to the vet. They ran blood tests and the results showed that she was in kidney failure. The vet said that they could act on a treatment plan, but she would have a 50/50 chance of survival. The bill for that would have been around $1100, with little hope she would recover fully or at all. (We had already spent $600). If she did survive, she would need special care from then on, and would be in pain, and might die of malnutrition since she'd probably not eat or drink anything.


I knew I could not come up with another $1100. But the deciding factor was that she would not have any quality of life and would be miserable. To allow that would just make me selfish, because I was the one who couldn't let go. I discussed this with D. and she agreed with my decision.

So they gave her the sedative and I stroked her and whispered to her that I loved her, until she fell asleep, and then we walked away, before they gave her the shots that would end her life. I could not be there for that. I did not want that to be my last memory of her. I just wanted her to know I was there until she drifted into sleep. I know she was not aware of what was happening. But I was. It was one of the most difficult decisions I've ever had to make, and I will miss her so much.


I love you, Shoes.

Shoes

Lemony Snicket Rides Again

 I'm making a late-night trip back to my apartment to pack some more and bring a few more things back for storage. I had been a little stressed throughout the day, since my bank account had been hacked for the second time, and they were sending me still another new Debit card. Meanwhile, the transfer of funds to my PayPal account was still pending, and I couldn't use it as it was, because the back up funding was still set for the previous account number. To make matters worse, the temporary ATM card from last time was useless, as I could not recall the temporary pass code, and it was Saturday night, and the bank would also be closed Sunday. Essentially, I had no access to my own money. But I knew that getting something accomplished always made me feel better, and I'm not good at huge transitions wherein everything in my life changes all at once. My girl was still tired and not feeling well, so she stayed, but bless her, handed me her card so I could get gas. My Cherryot was running on fumes. She understood that I had to be productive or I'd lose my mind.

So off I went, hoping to get a little closer to being moved completely out of the apartment by the end of the month, without the stress of doing it at the last minute, as I usually have done.

When i drive at night in new areas, I often suffer from Directional Dyslexia. Instead of turning right, i turn left, and wind up having to begrudgingly check my GPS, only to see the little blue dot that is me, heading in the wrong direction. So last night, I realized this was just what i had done, and that section of the city was almost void of traffic. I pulled off to a side street and stopped to check my GPS, and then made the turn around back in the other direction, still worrying that I wouldn't find a gas station before I got myself stranded with an empty tank.

Ever have one of those days that just seem ripe for disaster? Too many things going wrong, and this generalized sense that the Universe is not on your side? Well, this sensation kicked into gear about the time I pulled over to see if a particular gas station was still open. The store looked closed, but the gas pumps were on. About that time, I saw the blue lights flashing in my rear view.

No way. What could this lawman possibly want? I've always prided myself on being a law abiding citizen, so wasn't sure what this stop was about.

Like the conscientious citizen I am, i placed both my hands on the steering wheel and waited. He flooded my vehicle with the spotlight and then made sure he hit me in the eyes with his maglight, for good measure.

"I stopped you because you pulled off the road and weren't in a parking space..."
Weren't in a parking space?
"...and you didn't use your turn signal when you made that U-turn."
"I'm sorry," I said. "I just moved here, and was lost and checking the GPS on my phone."
"And you're not supposed to be looking at your phone."
As respectfully as i could, i said. "That's why i pulled over. So I could look at it safely."
"Well, you weren't in a proper place to park."
Now, remember, this street was deserted and there were no cars.
" And you didn't use your turn signal."
"Who would I be signaling to, officer?"
I don't think he liked that, so I tried not to argue the point further. "Look. I'm sorry, there was no one around, and I was just trying to get my bearings. I'm running on fumes and need to find a gas station...I'm sure you can appreciate how scary that can be for a woman alone..."
He apparently couldn't appreciate it, and asked for my driver's license, insurance and registration. I obliged and handed him the documents. I still had my Arkansas Drivers' license. "How long have you been in Colorado?"
"About a year."
"Where do you live?"
I gave him the information about where I was moving from and where i was moving to. He said to stay put, and he'd be right back. I guess he thought he was going to find some warrant or something.

While I waited, I texted my girlfriend, D., and told her what was happening. She advised me to give him a sob story about being lost and new in town. I told her i already tried that and he wasn't biting.

He came back and announced that he was going to give me a break. He could give me two tickets for not using my blinker, twice, and one for an out of state driver's license. I told him I had not switched it over yet. He said I had 30 days to do that in Colorado. I told him I didn't realize that; it was still a valid license, and hadn't expired, so I hadn't done it yet. He reiterated that I had 30 days. So he could have given me a ticket for that. But because he was such a peach, he would only cite me for not using my turn signal.

I'm thinking, really? you have nothing better to do than this? A deserted street where one lone car didn't signal, and a person moving to the area and out of gas, and trying to find a gas station while she was lost? Isn't there a meth lab you can raid or something?

He was haughty and unsympathetic. I decided against telling him he was a dick, and just took the citation. "I'm still looking for a gas station...."
He pointed. "We're in the parking lot of one."
I said, ignoring his condescending tone, "It looks closed to me."
"The pumps are still open, if you have a card."
"Oh." I wasn't aware that this was something available to me. Good thing I had Officer Feel-Good to fill me in. He handed me the citation and said goodnight. I wanted to smack him. No oh, could you use some help finding your way? No Well, I-25 is that way, and there's a gas station right over there, and I'm just going to let you off with a warning, and you be careful about using your blinker from now on? To me, it just seems overkill. Like these types are bored, and full of their own authority. One of my bigger irritants.

So I pull over to the gas pump of the closed station, and put in the card that my girlfriend gave me. I had a hard time seeing the display and had to use a flashlight. The pump started and Iinserted the nozzle and began to pump, but the handle kept clicking off. I'd get a cent in there and it would stop. Another cent, and it would stop. I got up to ten cents before i said fuck it, and replaced the nozzle in the cradle, and moved the Cherryot around to another pump. That's when i saw the guy staggering across the street from the bar, heading for me. Don't come over here, don't come over here, i chanted in my mind. But he continued in my direction. So i leaned into the cab and retrieved my trusty .25 automatic and slipped it in my pocket. When he came too close, I said. "Don't come near me," with my hand on the gun in my pocket. He stood staring at me for a moment and i wasn't sure how this was going to play out. Would i have to pull the gun out, and then about that time Officer Feel Good would drive by, and see it, and I'd be in big trouble for having a gun? Even though, again, I was a woman alone in a dark part of town, with no one within earshot. But the drunk wandered off, and so I was relieved that I could move my vehicle over to another pump.

Guess what? that pump had the same affliction. So with 13 cents in my empty tank, I cursed my way back into the Cherryot, and headed back down the street toward what i hoped would be an open gas station with working pumps. A few blocks later, I saw a Shamrock station and pulled in, got gas in the normal way, and things seemed okay as I was replacing my gas cap. That's when i noticed the big black guy coming toward me. He was saying "I know you don't know me, but--" I didn't need to hear any more. I just got in the Cherryot, closed the door, clicked the locks and pulled away. The guy RUNS around the pumps to block my exit, screaming obscenities at me. I had to swerve to miss him, and circled out of the lot, checking my side mirror and noticing that my gas tank door was still open. I hoped I had put the gas cap back on securely, and was thankful that the timing didn't force me to drive away with the nozzle still in my tank. 

So yeah, it could have been worse. I made a circle down a back street for good measure, in case he was following me in his vehicle, if he had one nearby. I headed down the main drag for a while until I found  still another gas station and I just parked to the side, stressed. Just then two police cars shot in and stopped and I had all kinds of tragic fantasies about that. They went inside as I imagined that this station was probably being robbed, and I would be a victim of crossfire. Things looked quiet enough, and so i just sat there for a minute and took a breath.

I called D. again and filled her in on what had happened. I was thinking i shouldn't go to

Lakewood this night. things were just out of sync and i felt something bad might happen. 

That's when D. said, "You know, Baby, maybe you should just come home--" I told her i was just thinking the same thing. This was not a night i needed to be driving around. It would probably be wise for me to just take all these signs as warnings, and just avoid tempting fate.

So I told her I was coming home. I checked my map again, and headed to the house.

When i got there, i had a beer, and got some supportive cuddles from my girl. My need to be productive could wait another day.

Lemony Snicket Rides Again

Politics, Religion & Sedition

I called the Secret Service about the Kill-Barack-Obama FB page. 

And you should too.(1)

In what twisted way, did this seem like a good idea to anyone?

This is a vivid example of not just ignorance, but of how these days people don't seem to understand that freedom of speech does not include sedition. Threatening a US president is a class D felony. 

Consider the legal definition:

LII / Legal Information Institute
TITLE 18 > PART I > CHAPTER 41 > § 871
§ 871. Threats against President and successors to the Presidency
(a) Whoever knowingly and willfully deposits for conveyance in the mail or for a delivery from any post office or by any letter carrier any letter, paper, writing, print, missive, or document containing any threat to take the life of, to kidnap, or to inflict bodily harm upon the President of the United States, the President-elect, the Vice President or other officer next in the order of succession to the office of President of the United States, or the Vice President-elect, or knowingly and willfully otherwise makes any such threat against the President, President-elect, Vice President or other officer next in the order of succession to the office of President, or Vice President-elect, shall be fined under this title or imprisoned not more than five years, or both.  

 

So I called my local Secret Service office, talked to nice agent there. He said he got another call about it this morning, and they are checking it out too. He appreciated that citizens reported it. He took my name and number. Guess i have to be good now that the SS has my number. ;^) As IF I had to give it to them, for them to have it. lol

In September '09, the Secret Service investigated a poll on Facebook entitled "Should Obama be killed?" Facebook was notified and the poll was removed, along with the application that created it. That is as it should be. Though I must interject that removing the application itself sort of smacks of the "remove all guns, so that no one gets shot" school of thought. The POLL itself did nothing wrong. It's about the human who misused it. It's always about the human, isn't it?

So, as for the Kill-Barack-Obama page, those insipid morons who create pages like that one, have no idea how serious their actions are. In fact, i think that they ought to make an example of them. They ought to arrest them and question them for long periods of time, look into all their personal information, parade them around in front of the media, fine them, and let them sit their stupid asses in a cell for a while. Maybe then people would realize that this is not a game. Yet there are players. The colloquial kind, and the kind who just skip through life with their puerile ideas, never noticing what their actions and beliefs are causing.

This country seems inundated with those of paltry education or little intelligence, or both. Indeed, the combination of ignorance and an instrument of damage has always been a threat to our peace and safety. Another argument can be made in this case, that education is essential-- especially learning the skills of logical thought, and the ability to discern facts from fiction.

  

This is a set of creeds-mantras-mottos of mine. Ignorance touches all of us in so many ways. The most compelling and frightening example of it is within the ranks of the Religious Right ; or for that matter, within any monotheistic religion.

It is the very nature of religion to usurp the independent thought of the individual, and to instead encourage people to follow the pack, and do as their book or their leader tells them. This is at the very core of the concept of Blind Faith, after all. When you mix this with politics, we are talking about nothing less than a flirtation with disaster.

The platform of politics is the perfect vehicle for perpetuating this type of ignorance and harm, as well. In recent years we have witnessed an influx of the religio-politic. 

Case in point: Sarah Palin.

One of the most vivid examples of this insipid damaging, and sometimes volatile mixture is to be found in this video of interviews with followers of Palin, at one of her book signings. This is an excellent example of why people like Sarah Palin are dangerous to this nation--just have a listen to those who "follow" and support her. They don't even know WHY. They are so easily duped by rhetoric and campaign slogans, but they can't discuss an issue and don't even know what the issues are. These are the LEMMINGS in our society who aren't intelligent enough to make sound decisions, but are still able to vote. Their votes adversely affect US ALL.

It is my contention, therefore, that stupidity kills. It's no longer okay to be the village idiot. We have a responsibility to protect our society from those who would undermine it in regard to safety and the right to "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness." The things that the zealots say are "wrong" about this country, are things that are rooted in why and how this country began. There has been no insurrection, no coup from secular  or godless rebels who dismantled it and rebuilt it in another image. The imposition has come from the zealots themselves, who seek to change what is already in place through the methodology, agreement and efforts of greater minds. Those who wish to change the fundamental tenets upon which this nation was founded, should first, READ THE CONSTITUTION, and second, instead create their own theocracy on some island in the middle of the ocean, far away from those things they seek to destroy, which disturb them so much. 

Being in a FREE country, means you also have the freedom to leave, when you no longer wish to live there. I entreat you, zealots-all, to do so.

=========================================

(1) While composing this blog, the page was removed. Glad i got some screenshots of it first.

Politics, Religion & Sedition

Great Conclusion of LOST Wasn't FOUND

Watched recorded last episode of Lost. Have to say I was disappointed. They went for an obvious explanation instead of one more inventive...

They were all just dead--really? And all going to be together in the "afterlife"? How droll. The great big fat finale is that they all meet in a church and go "toward the light"---REALLY? The ultimate result of all this had to have that religious element? Again? it's been done to death. I am so fucking sick of everything mysterious ending up being some biblical, spiritual or religious reference. Come on! I would expect more from the otherwise brilliant writers of that show.

And they also left far too many things unexplained. Too many holes...

 

• they didn't explain how they were able to interact in the world with other people while DEAD, all that time.
• and they didn't explain the island/Jacob/black smoke thing
• Nor did they really explain why the Dharma Initiative seemed so spooky.
• and if we are to believe they were just ghosts living that life they kept flashing to, then how come it wasn't the life they came from? it was a different life.
• When they escaped the island and went back to their lives, were those lives real? or were they already dead? When they went back to the island were they still dead or still alive?
• In the finale, the cut on Jack's neck, was a bleed-through, literally and figuratively-- but it suggested it was a bleedthrough from when he was alive. And that cut happened ON THE ISLAND and I thought they were supposed to be dead there? Or were they alive on the island and dead in their lives? And if so, which lives? The flashback lives only, or the flash-sideways life? Or both or neither storylines?
• so Locke was dead during his surgery in the flashsideways? and Jack who did the operation was dead? what about the nurses that talked to them, the other people they encountered? were they all dead? where were they existing in this storyline? was it a fictional place too?
• Was the island in an ambiguous time-space continuum?
• Did Jacob, with Richard's help, go back in time to manipulate the events and people to prevent the destruction of the island?
• was the list of Chosen, the list of people whose actions had a pivotal affect on the future of the island?

 I tried to get some answers on the ABC site and their "Untangled" vids were too aggravating to watch. I mean, who had the idea to go over the material using Muppets?? This was a DRAMA, not a kid's show. WTF?

I realize I've forgotten most of the material in this show--it was chock-full of details, and six years worth, at that. I will probably have to buy the whole series and watch it all again to figure some stuff out, But that's quite time consuming. But just in general, I was not happy with the ending. It didn't explain enough to me and I didn't like the way it felt. This does not prevent me from still loving the show and the cast and the writing. It's a wonderful show to watch with friends and it always inspires interesting discussion. I just didn't like how they ended it and copped out.

So...How would I have written the ending?  I would have used more modern idea--like those from science--multiverse theory/membrane theory. The idea that decisions we make in one life, can branch into and create a whole new lifeline for us, but in these parallel realities....I was hoping the explanation would be that the flashsideways lives were in parallel universes/alternate realities, and they eventually merged that knowledge of the LOST life with other one. The concept would be that this was a glitch in the universe...because something odd happened with the other elements, like the island and magnetism, it allowed them to be aware of the other alternate lives on some level until finally, they could merge the one where they all died with another one. 

Working thru fears and other aspects of personal growth on the island, would have allowed them to do that. And perhaps those who came before set it up so that they would only allow those who evolved in some way, to access that other life, and so "leave" the island, if only in a metaphysical way; where their consciousness could be merged with the alternate version of themselves and continue on, leaving the LOST life behind. Like Jin and Sun, they died in the sub, but maybe they merged into that alternate life together...This would have fit nicely with the scenes where they all start to "recognize" each other. They would become aware (in the selves in the parallel life) of the life they shared before and during the island... 

I would have had the smoke monster be a manifestation of fear, created in the minds of the people. Since most people have fears, most people saw it. Didn't mean it was real. All the seemingly mystical things on the island could instead be explained by understanding human nature and how we behave and think and interpret. I mean, go for the storyline that HASN'T been explored a million times.

It would have been hopeful, inspiring, interesting and more original.

At least that's how *I* would have written it. sigh.

Great Conclusion of LOST Wasn't FOUND

Brothers & Sisters & Writing & Dating

My number one favorite TV show is Brothers & Sisters. In last night's season finale, I guessed incorrectly about who they were going to kill. Well, in fairness to myself, my second guess was correct, but my first one wasn't. I kind of wish I hadn't been right because i liked the one they knocked off better than the one they didn't. 

I understand as a writer myself, that an engaging story almost always means dragging your characters through all kinds of rough terrains in order to capture the attention of the reader. Television characters are no different. Each episode is like a chapter in a book. I get involved with them, just as I would a good novel.  It's often hard for me not to shout at the television--address characters and writers about things i feel they should know. "Don't do it, Robert!!! It will backfire on you in a really bad way!" ,,, "Kevin, you're a wonderful person no matter what your stupid father might have done." 

As I've watched the character of Justin struggle with meaning in his life, I also feel compelled to offer some advice--I mean if he was my friend, this is what I'd tell him... (really, the advice is to the writers--whenever they decide they've tortured him enough and want the problem solved, here it is): Instead of wasting all those years of his life and enduring all that stress on himself and his new marriage, and all that money wasted by going to medical school to become a doctor--and instead of going to Haiti where he feels he can do some real good immediately--and instead of going back to that damn war where he's already served two tours---why not just give him the idea to go to paramedic school? Being a medic is where he shines. And he could have that (almost) instant gratification, be in the trenches, so to speak, helping people every day, and it wouldn't put financial pressure on his new marriage with Rebecca, wouldn't cause him to be away from her for a year, and would satisfy his need to heal others in emergency situations.


My suggestion is that he'll have that realization in the next season opener when we see what he does at the scene of that awful accident that took out his brother in law, Robert. He will be the hero, saving lives and offering comfort....and a paramedic will take notice of him there and make the obvious suggestion that he should be doing that kind of emergency medicine.

Anyway. Just a thought in my head as i woke up today. Now if I could figure out why I can't solve my own problem of this writing dearth. This is the longest I've gone without writing. When i say writing, I mean, working on one of my books. 

It coincided with meeting a woman I have actually gone through 17 dates with. (The 17 Dates Method, as developed by my best friend and fellow author, Justice Harlow). We're still dating, and I think it worked beautifully in giving us a clear idea of who we each are. It's really the only major change in my life lately, so I can only guess my lack of desire to write is predicated on that. While I am thoroughly enjoying this budding relationship, I am NOT enjoying my inability to write. It's not something I'm okay with, and it's not something that happens very often. Maybe once every ten years. It's a little frightening...like my brain isn't working anymore. I can't get it to function as it used to. I feel stupid all the time. And no, I'm not in love. Not that it's not possible, but i don't fall in love easily. No, it's not the love-thing. Maybe it's the sex-thing. Maybe just having those chemicals roused into action after so long...it's the only thing i can think of that might be making me this useless.

Anyway. I continue to wring my hands about my dry spell. I am fond of saying that i don't suffer from writer's block, it suffers from me. And perhaps that's still true. It doesn't seem that i CAN'T write (as this blog might testify) but that i don't FEEL like it. I'm unmotivated. I would like it very much if I could get my writing brain back, and still enjoy the affections and company of this woman. I want to have my cake and eat it too. All of it. With a tall glass of cold organic milk.

Brothers & Sisters & Writing & Dating