The Fanciful Muse

Vacation and Reflection

2008-04-06T14:29:00.002-05:00

I have not been reading my comments for personal reasons, and only briefly checked e-mail, but yes I'm fine, safe, and o.k. At the moment the kids and I are enjoying some time to relax while I make assessments and decisions that I need to for both them and myself. I've had little access to the internet in any case, and I must say that it has been great to unplug.

The mini-muses and I are safe, sound, snug, and most importantly able to enjoy relaxing together as a family. In all of this madness my concern is primarily for their well-being, and seeing how vibrant and excited they've been on this vacation adventure has been encouraging to me as their mother.

Despite the dearth of blog posts, it has not stopped me from writing by any means. I have been able to do a lot of personal reflection in the absence of emotional angst and day to day quibbles and distractions. What a relief!

In this reflection I find a need to reclaim myself, to shed an old skin that somehow was always ill-fitting, but that I tried very hard to make the best of. Whether that was because the cold I would have to face without it would be too painful, or because attachment convinced me that a few alterations here and there would have everything right as rain, the affect was the same... I held on to something that was not healthy in any regard for far too long.

Meanwhile the kiddos are having a lot of fun. I haven't heard as many "I want to go home's" as I expected I might. I am encouraged by how excited and happy they seem to be since the grueling travel aspect of the vacation reached it's end, and we are in a safe and secure place. It seems not having to see the two people they love constantly sad, angry, or at odds has had the effect of letting them just be kids.

For myself, I also feel healthier over all. I no longer feel like I'm struggling against the tide with weights tied to my ankles. Insha' Allah, both the children and myself will each be able to grow and blossom as our individual spirits and hearts dictate that we must.

Veils

2008-03-30T18:14:00.003-05:00

I put veils over my heart to protect it by
Leaving my eyes and mind open and free.
What I didn't count on were the veils my heart put over my eyes,
Obscuring the view that my logic could see.

On Disposability...

2008-03-29T19:38:00.003-05:00

I wrote this on February 11th. Perhaps because on some intuitive level I knew it was an inevitability:

"...And so before I even reached adulthood, I suffered from hardening of the arteries. Mr. Muse has said that I have a heart of gold. Sometimes this hardly seems possible, as gold, in it's purest form, is soft, malleable, compliant... and my heart... my heart is not sure which direction it leans. Some pieces of it are warm and tender, ready to be embraced, others are dark and hidden as hard as black marble, and yet other pieces of it are fortified with granite, armor against the daily siege that life lays on it. I always thought that this jadedness was a natural thing, that it could not be helped.

If I've ever always known one thing in my life, it is that the heart is not disposable. Once it is broken, the scars remain. Once it is shattered, God help the person that suffers such deep disappointment and pain. I do not know if one's heart can be irreparably damaged. I don't want to find out. But with each time that I have been disposed of, it took me a step closer in that direction.

But there has been a positive in it. I've seen the ugliness in human nature. I've seen how people can be an irremovable part of your life one day, and disappear into oblivion the next. I've learned to be glib in the face of this, and to focus on the people who are anything but indispensible to me. My husband, being first and foremost.

But under the surface lurks a fear. It ripples the surface of the pond so very occassionally, it is easy to overlook. Beneath the surface there is always a piece of my heart held in reserve, waiting for the day that I become disposable to him too... a piece to keep the possibility of irreparable heartbreak from wreaking it's devastation on me. There is a piece of me that I must cling to for myself, so that I may survive no matter what happens.

There is a piece of myself that I must never dispose of, and that no one else will ever be able to either. It is the part of me that soars and sings in the face of all things. The one part of my heart that will not be broken. It gives voice to all things in this life that are worth clinging to. I hold it close, and hope that I will be able to teach my children to hold that piece of themselves close also."

Disposable or not, I am not now, and I Will Not Be Broken.

A Mind Full of Fireflies

2008-03-28T09:26:00.006-05:00

The brain is the nucleus surrounded in a cloud, orbited by thoughts, ideas, and dreams following erratic pathways like rogue electrons. They pass and collide in splashes of color, fusing new ideas, and dissecting old ones. They are beautiful to watch, and difficult to track, swarming, amassing, and falling away. At times they motivate, and at others they overwhelm. Now is the time for motivation, the motivation to capture just one and follow where it leads.

Concluding Chapters and Entering a New One

2008-03-27T10:04:00.006-05:00

What do you do when you're just purely exhausted, and the time is right to let go and move on, but you don't want to give up? I've been through things that have profoundly affected my life, and have affected relationships in ways that I could have never fathomed.

A large chapter in my life is drawing to a rather painful conclusion. It's difficult for me, because I'm looking at being purely on my own, while the other half of the equation will have the comfort of someone else in my absence. Should I begrudge them that, or should I be happy that they will have some form of comfort?

On with life. The wind says, "Go West, Young Lady! Go West!" And I probably shall.

The Dance of Connection

2008-03-25T21:46:00.005-05:00

I am currently reading a book that seems rather a timely read for me. The Dance of Connection by Harriet Lerner. I'm not a huge self-help person. I generally start to read them and drop them about half way through, most of the time finding that what's offered is old pieces of wisdom re-packaged into something that appears shiny and new. Which is not to say that I know it all, just that I get tired of the redundant proverbialisms that saturate the field of the self-help industry. In this instance, my mom actually sent me the book a couple of years ago, and I started reading it, but I must not have been in the place I needed to be for it. I thought about giving it away on several occassions, but somehow could not bring myself to.

Given things that I am currently having to face in my life, the messages it contains are ones that I need to hear. The brief explanation on the cover says, "How to talk to someone when you're mad, hurt, scared, frustrated, insulted, betrayed, or desperate." At the moment I find I am facing all of the above at any given moment of the day. Currently I phase from one to the next with no warning. As a warning to guy readers, I'm fixin' to (there's a lovely Southern expression for you) get into some delicate ladies topics, so you may wish to hit the little red x in the upper right hand corner of the window if you are squeamish about feminine issues.

I've briefly mentioned Pre-Menstrual Dysphoric Disorder, but I think this month I've slipped beyond PMDD into something else entirely. I have a sneaking suspicion that I may have had an early miscarriage, given the tardiness of my period, and a few other symptoms that point towards such a conclusion. Now, before anyone gets the notion to say, "Oh I'm so sorry!" Please refrain. No offense, but I'm just not that upset about it, if that's what it was, rather I see it as a mercy because there is no way that my going through a pregnancy and having another baby would be a healthy thing for myself or anyone in my family. But my emotions are far more intense and sending me into more manic spins than I have previously dealt with, and I feel on the verge of a break-down. Add in other intense stressors that I will not be discussing, and I am going from manic weeping, to screaming at people and not even realizing that I have raised my voice, and then swinging back to a very rational if not bruised and self protective mind-set. I am still fighting with medicaid to get the information corrected so that I can actually get in to an OB, and to have a doctor confirm or dismiss my suspicion, and to take any necessary steps to prevent health problems in the case that my suspicion is correct.

Doctor Lerner discusses in her book how conversations are really opportunities for self discovery, and how finding our authentic voice and protecting it is necessary for intimacy. She dispels any notions about having to go through a massive process of excavation to find this authentic voice, but rather, in my mind seems to equate it to simply stripping off the layers of masks that we don with each other, utilizing words and silences alike out of fear, rather than from a place of authenticity. Jodi's theme this year is authenticity, and mine is that of a Journey, so I suppose in some ways my journey this year is about being my authentic self, and knowing when to (or not to) speak in a way that does not compromise what I need to communicate, while still creating an environment of intimacy so that the other person is also free to speak, or not to as they choose. There are other things she further says about the matter that are some times necessary in protecting one's authentic voice, and it seems that I have reached a critical stage where it may become necessary.

The odd thing is, the decisions were entertained and pretty much already made before I picked the book up again on a whim.

As I finish it I may give a further review, or I may not. Time will tell, as it does with everything else in life.

About Blinders and Being Blind-Sided

2008-03-25T10:34:00.004-05:00

First, I am writing this in response to a post from a friend, which I will not link, because they have chosen to privatize their blog, and I absolutely respect that. Secondly, what I'm about to write has nothing to do with the previously mentioned issues that are disrupting my personal life at the moment. Thirdly, Mom, if you read this, and if it is in any way unfair, incorrect, or inaccurate, you have my apologies in advance. Quite simply I can only write from the perspective from which I remember, and I more than welcome you to offer any insights, corrections, or criticisms you wish.

Disclaimers dispensed with, here we go. My aforementioned friend discussed recently an issue he has with his mother, a singular event that seems to punctuate a pattern of behavior that was harmful to him as a child. In this case he feels his mother turned a blind eye to the harmful behavior of her spouse. Now he doesn't accuse her of doing it intentionally, however he does say he can't fathom how she couldn't have known, especially when it came to the protection of her child.

This is a tricky subject, ladened with anger, resentment, a need to understand, and a longing for rectification, but with the hopelessness that the failings of your parent can't be forgiven. There's also a lot of societally charged material about what the duties of a mother are to her child, which can be a lot to live up to for even the best of mothers. Somehow it seems fathers are exonerated from this notion of parental duty except when it comes to providing financial security.

So enough beating around the proverbial bush. My mom is an extremely intelligent and educated woman. She has devoted her life to championing the underdogs, and advocating for them in difficult circumstances. In her various careers she has found herself seeking justice and services for people who find themselves holding the short end of the stick for whatever reasons life has thrown at them. She's spent a lot of time with legislators, in workshops, conferences, and numerous other types of programs to champion rights and legislation for survivors of abuse, domestic violence, to see that patient rights are observed in Nursing Homes, and to see that school systems are adequately providing services to students with special needs. She, while I was living with her, was often stressed out by her work, discouraged by the road blocks, and always seemed to feel that each victory was minimal compared to all of the injustice still left in the world, but was able to use it as fuel to keep her from burning out entirely. Please remember, this is my mom from my perspective. Her perspective on her work and her career paths might be different from what I perceive.

What I also perceived was that my mom was incredibly protective of me. Some have said she was over protective. Maybe that is true. But given my lack of training, judgment, and ability to pay attention to my own warning signs early on, her protectiveness was in no way unwarranted.

So here you have a woman who spends her time learning about the psychology of things such as how victims respond to abuse, why and how perpetrators carry out their heinous deeds, why people stay with their alcoholic and drug addict spouses, how to recognize signs of mistreatment, and ultimately how to prosecute these crimes. So can you imagine the surprise and the sheer impact she faced when she found out the girl living in her home was being sexually abused when she was away. Now talk about being blind-sided. A lot of people would think, "How could this woman not have known what was going on? How could she have not seen the signs?" She asks herself those same painful questions. She still apologizes to me for every time she yelled at me for not having my chores or homework completed because she didn't know what had transpired to keep me from accomplishing them. She still apologizes for yelling at me for things before she understood them fully. A lot of people might assume that she was intentionally donning the blinders, to which I will happily call them to the carpet and tell them that they are full of crap.

Manipulators, abusers, addicts, and otherwise can be quite gifted at throwing people off of their trail. My sperm donor had a million and one ready made excuses to explain away the signs of his abuse. Sadly enough, he actively engaged me in his cover up and I actively participated in it. You want it, there it is. I had some weird idea in my head that I needed to protect my mom and my family from the impact of his misdeeds more than I needed to protect myself. I was also afraid that in some ways I had invited these crimes, and that everyone would see me as being to blame. Even still in my worst of moments, I wonder if I just somehow have a penchant for turning otherwise seemingly normal people into the worst kinds of monsters imaginable. My previous abuse lent itself to this notion quite nicely, and was also a perfect explanation for aberrant behavior on my part, residual acting out of things long past. It fooled my highly attuned mom, and it fooled the counselors and survivors group that I went to on a weekly basis.

So what is the point of opening this incredibly painful and volatile can of worms? The point is, yeah, there are some people who purposefully don blinders because whatever it is they don't wish to see is too painful to cope with. But there are some who don't even realize they have blinders on. There are some whose blinders were put on them whilst they were unaware, and usually these are the people who may have a sneaking suspicion something is wrong, but they stuff that little voice, thinking they must just be acting paranoid. There are some people who actively try to keep themselves blinder free, but that task in itself can become distracting enough that you can still be blind-sided by something.

My mom apologizes constantly for feeling that she was not a good mother. To me, she may not have been the mother I wanted, but she was the mother I needed, and to me that makes her the best mother in the world. As a mom myself now, it's easier for me to realize that mothers, fathers, grandparents, aunts, uncles... they're all just people, just like me, trying to figure out the best way to survive the day whilst trying to care for the children under their care and protect them from all the wolves that inhabit this world, in the guise of sheep. Because of the proximity, sometimes it's not always easy to identify the wolf that has already infiltrated the home, because they can play a pretty convincing sheep.

Forgiveness is something that's acheived over time, and is easier for some than it is for others. Forgiveness is sometimes only acheived on the other side of anger and resentment, and the painful process of working passed them. But recognizing that being human means being imperfect, and that I can never fully understand things I remember from any perspective than my own, and that just as I did the best I knew how, so did she.

I suppose in some ways I also have a lot of grace for my mom, because I was never her responsibility, but she chose to make me her responsibility to care for. Perhaps there is a difference there for me that might not be there for my friend. My mom chose to adopt me where she would have had every right to say, "This kid isn't mine. Her family needs to take care of her."

So you might ask, am I angry with my egg donor? Yeah for a long time I was. But then she actively engaged in abusing me, and when given a choice to kick out the abusive husband and have me come home, she chose to keep the abusive husband. But since then, my anger has long ago burned itself out into fine ashes that blew away in the wind, and all I have left is utter indifference. Have I forgiven her? I don't know if I need to anymore, since there's no hatred and no anger there, there doesn't seem to be anything left that warrants being forgiven. It's like saying I need to forgive a stranger for something they did that has no real relevance left in my life.

Welcome to the Zoo

2008-03-24T18:31:00.005-05:00

I seem to be saying a lot lately, that I have a lot on my mind that I can't write about. Thank God for the potpourri of subjects I can blog about, because without being able to release some things, I think my head would short circuit and possibly explode in a cloud of white smoke, and the acrid scent of ozone. I'm facing my dilemmas in my personal life, some of which are depressing, and others of which breed immense and intense anger and resentment. But, I can not relate them here, because the reach of these dilemmas encompass more than my need to release my frustrations. That being said, because to just light into my next topic without having said that seems grossly dishonest, let's focus on happier things.

Such as a much anticipated outing that the mini-muses and I will be taking this coming Saturday with their Arabic school. This Saturday we will load up in a bus at our Masjed, and we will hop the interstate to Nashville. Our destination in Music City is none other than the Nashville Zoo. I have wanted to take the children to the Zoo for years, and was certain that I had it on my 30 before 30 list, somewhere after a trip to the Tennessee Aquarium in Chattanooga, but apparently I overlooked that little goal when composing that lovely list. Maybe I should make it 31 things before 30?

In any case before the children were very small, and obstacles such as work schedules, undependable vehicles, finances, and distance kept us from being able to go. Now my youngest is four, which is a ripe age for enjoying the Zoo, we're not terribly far away, and transportation is not an issue. I thought finances might be, but Alhomdulilah, it is taken care of. Mr. Muse will be lending me his camera and I plan to snap lots of kid-pics, and maybe some of the animals too. I just hope the weather decides to warm back up by Saturday. Today was quite chilly.

Son-shine hopes to see a Rhinoceros, and K-Bug has been inquiring as to whether or not there will be lions there. Whereas Pookie asked me if she'll be able to see any Giraffes. Personally I'm hoping to see the Giant Pandas and the Penguins. I have no idea what animals will actually be present when we go, so this will be as much of an adventure for me as for them. I'm not certain when the last time was that I've been to a zoo, though some part of me says that I have been... must have been at some time or another. I remember a Circus, Ice-Capades with my Girl Scout troop, a couple of County Fairs, a Stock Show, and a Dog Show. There's been several trips to Sea-World, museums, an opera, several symphonies, a dinner theater, the Colorado School of Mines, Leadville, and the Renaissance festival, and probably a few other massively wonderful venues, even a field trip to a Farm, but for some reason being able to place when and where I've been to a zoo and when escapes me. In any case, it will be fun to go again, since apparently it's been way too long.

As to posting for the rest of the week, I am officially suspending my blogging schedule. I will write and post if and when I choose, but am releasing myself of my obligatory subject schedule until I get things in my personal life on a satisfactory track. If you want something somewhat filling, I was featured as a guest writer today over at Write Stuff, where I speak a little On Carrying a Loaded Gun. As to making my rounds, I will try to be by around once a week or so, some others may see me more often, since there are some blogs I just can't stay away from.

Inclinations and Orbits

2008-03-22T20:48:00.003-05:00

There's no Spin-A-Yarn today, and there will probably not be a link round-up tomorrow. That remains to be seen. I'm dealing with a great number of things in my personal life right now, some good, some indifferent, and some not so fun. Monday will probably be equally consumed. If I have the time and the inclination to enter my orbit in the blog-o-sphere, you guys will be the first to know. Until then, A' Salaamu Alaikum, and best as always to all of you.

Learning A New Language

2008-03-21T00:00:00.004-05:00


This Week’s Theme: Backstory: Have your character give 13 reasons why they should learn a new language. Grant looked over the post it notes on Glory's desk while he waited for her. One in particular caught his eye, as at the top she'd scrawled, "Why I should learn to speak Klingon." He stifled a chuckle and forced himself to read the list: 1) I can impress my trekkie friends 2) If I ever encounter a child that only speaks Klingon, I'll be able to interpret for them a la "Daddy Daycare" 3) I can communicate with other trekkie friends and it will be a safe bet no one else in our company will know what the heck we're saying 4) If I ever meet Michael Dorn I can converse with him fluently 5) I can watch Star-Trek without relying on sub-titles 6) If I'm ever abducted by aliens I'll know a dialect they already have in their data-base 7) I can talk my way out of a Bat'leth tournament 8) I can offer diplomatic services to the Federation 9) If society collapses we can do away with English completely 10) I could fit in at a Star-Trek convention 11) I could claim to speak 4 languages fluently 12) I could curse and no one would understand me 13) I could pass for a crazy person and get myself committed, which I probably should for thinking about why I should learn to speak Klingon. By the time Grant finished the list he was unable to contain his laughter. "Yeah well," Glory said from the doorway, "It beats trying to learn the language of the Martians on 'Mars Attacks.' Ack! Ack! Ack!" She stuck her tongue out at him and turned to walk out the door, while he continued to laugh uproariously.
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Wow I Didn't Know it was That Bad

2008-03-20T18:16:00.000-05:00

67%

If I Could...

2008-03-20T11:21:00.016-05:00

I would spend the entire day immersed in writing. I am bursting with thoughts and ideas. So I'll settle for a list at the moment.

1) War - As in the movie starring Jet Li and Jason Statham. Given yesterday's Blogswarm the topic of war in general is still fresh on my mind, but this is unrelated. Mr. Muse wanted to spend time with me last night so we sat and watched this movie together. We as a couple are indeed quite fortunate in a lot of ways. One of which is that we have enough common interests, that it's not difficult for us to find things to do together. I like action movies, and he can tolerate a well scripted romantic comedy. I'm not much of a video-gamer, but do occasionally enjoy playing Knights On-Line with him, or a good 1 on 1 fighting sim. (Soul Caliber is my personal favorite, as with Sophitia I can wipe the ring with most characters he chooses.) We both like taking walks, though we've fallen out of the habit since having children, and we both enjoy bicycling.

But one thing Mr. Muse and I both enjoy is a story that can surprise the both of us with it's ending. Mr. Muse is a very strategic thinker, and I'm just familiar with the ins and outs of literary devices, so most of the time both of us are simply content to be taken on the journey even though we've already mastered the conclusion before the midpoint of the story has been reached. I am thrilled to say that the conclusion to War caught both of us off guard, despite the obvious foreshadowing that was there... obvious in retrospect that is. Jet Li's character, Rogue, is difficult to pin until the end of the movie. The writer leaves his intentions a mystery while he diabolically orchestrates all sorts of catastrophes amongst the Triads and the Yakuza.

2) PMDD - There is a post coming on the issue of Pre-Menstrual Dysphoric Disorder or PMDD soon. I've already written a short story and a poem to hint at things a bit, but I feel a more intelligent and clear cut piece brewing soon. I want it to convey the facts, but I also want it to describe on a personal level just how it effects the person dealing with it. On the other hand I don't want it to seem like a cry for attention or a long languishing wallow in the depths of self-pity.

3) Conspiracy Theories - "Conspiracy Theory" is one of my favorite Mel Gibson movies, next only to "What Women Want". But in general I think there is a discussion coming up on the actual thing and not the movie. I'm not one who rabidly chases the things down, and dons tin foil hats to keep "them" out of my head. But I do tend to file away small details, and put the pieces where they fall into place over time. Some theories are plausible (but will forever remain theories), and others are a lot of fluff and nonsense.

4) Tall Tales - Paul Bunyan is still dragging his gigantic axe and furrowing out the Grand Canyon, and Pecos Bill is still throwing his lasso over the wild twisters in my mind. I still have yet to write my hyperbole ladened yarn. I was considering writing one set in modern times. But in thinking about Tall Tales this morning, it occurs to me that I may not need to write one. After all George W. Bush seems especially talented in weaving tall tales on a daily basis. So perhaps he is already filling the literary need of the modern age for hyperbole. *N-yuk N-yuk N-yuk*

O.k. all kidding aside, I'm actually considering writing some tall tales for my mini-muses, with characters especially crafted for each of them. The idea is still simmering, and I would hate to pull it from the burner and serve it prematurely.

5) Tomorrow's FF Prompt - Which is "List 13 reasons your character should learn a new language." Huh? Do what? O.k. I was thinking about using the prompt this week to dabble with the concept of a tall tale, but how in the world do I fit that notion to this prompt? Well I thought that perhaps my character could be a writer that needed to learn the language of hyperbole, but I'm rather tired of the thinly veiled self portrait in my characterization of the writer. In "Ensuing Storm" one of the main characters is the writer, or the prophesied bard. In a few of my short stories the writer appears. It's time for the writer to quit personifying herself as a character and do some actual work dang it! So another thought occurred. Maybe I should do something outlandish, like tell a character why they need to learn Klingon, or why the should learn the language of the Aliens on "Mars Attacks". Or perhaps the language of the Ancients as found in Star-Gate.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm revealing my geekiness I know. But talking about why a character should learn a foriegn language that originates here on earth, which yes I realize even the ones in the Sci-Fi shows do, but I mean an actual recognized language, is too easy a task for me. Hello... I eventually want to become a linguistic Anthropologist. I can easily list 50 reasons off the top of my head without blinking. So an "alien" language it will probably be, just so that I can make it humorous.

6) Connections - I have made a great number of friends here in the blog-o-sphere, and in the Muslim community. But it's always great when you reconnect with old friends. I received an e-mail last night from one of my high school friends, which was simply thrilling. She sounds like she's doing really well, and is happy with the life she and her partner have made for themselves.

7) Islam and Jesus - This is a topic I want to address, but it is going to be tricky. I may enlist the help of some Muslim friends, because I would hate to incite misunderstanding by not presenting things correctly. I find it easier to talk about what we do believe vs. what we don't believe. For now I will say that we do believe in the existence and the teachings of Jesus, and I will leave it there. Saying more right now leaves me open to not stating things correctly and possibly misleading people or breeding animosity in places where none should exist.

8) Giving a Common Enemy - There is a concept that I think is extremely prevalent throughout history, and it is that of the common enemy. Give a group of people at conflict with themselves and/or you a common enemy and they will unite to your purpose. Dividing and Conquering is one of the oldest tactics in the book, but this tactic can be used to counter it, and it can also be used as a diversion away from immediate concerns. Smoke and Mirrors are as commonplace in politics as they are in a magic show. We need to be able to see the man behind the curtain for what he is, before we agree that we do indeed have a common enemy.

9) Being Prepared - Early after 9/11 there were all kinds of announcements about preparing in case of a terrorist attack, prepare in case of anthrax or a bomb, report suspicious activity, oh and as a side note, prepare in case of natural disaster. I initially bought into the hysteria of the rising and diminishing threat levels, and the words "extremist", "terror", and "terrorist" being blared everywhere you could hear or look. It was hysteria that was reminiscent of concerns over Y2K. (Anyone else remember that?) I fretted because we lived in places where there was no storage, and because we couldn't afford to buy as much bottled water as our family needed, and gas masks, and where would we go if there was a chemical weapon was realeased, and how would we defend our home and our family if all elements of society quit working and society as we knew it reverted back to survival of the fittest, and..., and..., and...

After a couple of tornado seasons though something in me woke up. I asked myself, "Why the heck am I worried about a terrorist attack when we're having storm squalls every other week that are producing tornadoes?" I realized I should be more worried about having a basement than a gas mask, and a compiled survival kit in the case we were trapped under the debris of a collapsed structure. The heck with terrorist threats! Our family was under more of a threat from nature than we ever were from the dreaded terrorists! And this was pivotal for me because it allowed me to be constructive in my preparedness rather than fearful, and therefor more sensible in what we could and could not live without.

10) Calgon Moments - I'm jonesing for a hot bubble bath, fragrant candles, soft music, all followed by a soft pair of pyjamas and a warm fluffy bathrobe, topped off with a cup of green tea with hints of mint and lemon-grass. Perhaps tonight before bed, I'll catch a taste of such heavenly delight.

Robbed

2008-03-20T00:09:00.002-05:00

Of energy, of life, of reason,
As I undergo this siege,
This treason.

Treason committed by my very own mind,
Stripping me of the strength I need
To get by.

To focus, to think, to live,
Evey month it's the same
As the weariness sets in.

Headaches, weariness, blinding frustration,
Molten bubbles beneath the surface lurk,
Waiting to burst with aggravation.

There has got to be a better way.

Blogswarm: Iraq The Winning Move and the Human Factor

2008-03-19T11:36:00.007-05:00

"A strange game. The only winning move is not to
play."

- WOPR - In the movie "War Games"

Because this is about peace, and not war, I thought this quote highly appropriate. For those who may not remember the movie "War Games" (really you should watch this great classic,) it goes off the premise that all of our missile defenses and offenses are ready to be given into the control of a computer programmed with basic A.I. The conclusion is that nuclear war is a lot like a game of Tic-Tac-To. When you have two players of equal skill the game always ends in a stalemate. No one wins, everyone loses.

Because this is about peace and not war, the movie "The Fifth Element" comes to mind, where the priest says, "Evil begets evil, Mr. President. Shooting at it will only make it stronger." Which reminds me a great deal of the violence we see today. Someone's brother is killed, so they go kill the person that killed their brother. Except that this person was also someone else's brother, or son, or father... and now their death must be avenged. Evil begets evil... violence feeds more violence. Except in this case it is not families that are feuding, but entire countries.

"When the power of love overcomes the love of power the world will know peace."
- Jimi Hendrix (1942-1970) American Musician, Guitarist, Singer, Songwriter

Because this is about peace, we need to examine why our leaders would want to take us to war, and why they would want to continue in it. What have they to gain, and is it worth what we as citizens stand to lose? Or should I say, have already lost?

In my lifetime we were in the final stages of the Cold War. Communists were the enemy, and Communist was synonymous with Russians. Now terrorists are the enemy, and terrorist has become synonymous with Muslim. the difference being of course one was simply a race to arms, and the other is an actual war in which people are dying by the thousands. But yet, we are supposed to be the land of the free, the home of the brave, a country of equality and opportunity, a nation of truth and justice. You know what the rest of the world sees? They see a fat lot of hypocrites who have unjustly invaded 1 if not 2 sovereign nations, and yet we talk about attacking still others. Sting made apt observations about the Cold War in his song "The Russians". The same could very well translate to "The Muslims". "We share the same biology regardless of ideology." With that quote I present the human factor.

And to finish off I have two more quotes that need no further thoughts or explanation:

"You can no more win a war than you can win an
earthquake."

- Jeanette Rankin, first woman Member of Congress

"The real and lasting victories are those of peace,
and not of war."

- Ralph Waldo Emerson

... Because today is about peace, not war, as the lovely lady of the river has said.

Blogswarm: Iraq The Power of One Voice

2008-03-19T00:00:00.001-05:00

I often hear from my friends, who are very much activists in their own right, that they feel their efforts at times are not enough. I have to admit, just speaking out, just talking about the injustices of the world does not seem like enough effort at times. I often say that we as citizens seem content to sit back while civil liberties are stripped from us, so long as we still have the right to complain about it. Soon enough the right to complain will be the only right that we have left... and then they will take that away too. The Prophet Mohammed (P.B.U.H.) said, "If a man sees evil, let him change it with his hands, if he cannot, let him change it with his voice, if he cannot, let him hate it in his heart..." and on the last part of the quote I've heard two different interpretations, one says, "... beyond that there is no faith," while the other says, "but this is the lowest form of faith," in reference to simply hating it, or feeling bad about it in your heart.

Many of us find ourselves in a position that action seems impossible, given responsibilities we carry in our personal lives. How do we balance our duty in raising the next generation with securing the liberty of that same generation? As a mother this is a dilemma I often face. With the inability to effectively organize protest efforts, to lobby, or to go speak to my representatives in person, I am left only with my second weapon of choice... my voice. And I will use it to cry into cyberspace, to talk to people in my community, to write to my representatives, though the last seems about as effective as whistling in the wind at times.

The fact of the matter is, one solitary voice may not be able to accomplish much on it's own, but it is certainly better than remaining silent, and giving way to apathy. And when solitary voices of a like mind begin coming together, well then soon you have a cacophony that can not be ignored, and that is what the infamous "they" do not want. But we're doing it today. Here and now. Will this day that a few hundred bloggers organized to write in protest of the war in Iraq (and Afghanistan) make a difference? I have no idea. But I do know, that we won't know unless we do try, and that it is better to have made the effort, with little effect, then to sit idly with the guarantee of no effect.

Yesterday I watched a movie recommended by Bobby, called ZeitGeist. The word ZeitGeist fascinated me, and I knew I would have to find out what it meant. Literally translated it means "Time Spirit", but is used to mean, "Spirit of the age" in German.

Bobby recommended this film to his readers some time ago, and it is heavy with conspiracy theory, but there are basic elements to it that simply can not be ignored. The first part to the movie talks about the institution of religion as a control factor, mainly in regards to Christianity. Now, I do not agree 100% with everything contained in the first part of the film, as some of the statements made also contradict Islam. However what especially provoked my attention was the citing of Pagan mythology and symbolism found in modern day Christianity. Some of these I was already aware of. In fact many of them were things that spurred me in my decision to convert to Islam. I also finished recently learning of the Precess of the earth and the information about the Zodiac that's found in the film, though in regards to Astrology, I will fall back on my Astronomy Professor's view on this, that it is in no way scientific, because it does not account for the movement/creation/destruction of celestial bodies in space. I also had reservations before converting to Islam over the Council of Nicaea, the Council of Trent, and the final canonization of the King James Version of the Bible, knowing that the room for interpretative error was immense, and also knowing that the motivations of the men in those Councils were not necessarily divinely inspired. But I suppose what punched the biggest hole in Christianity for me had a great deal to do with my desire to be a writer and an archaeologist. When I found out that a great many texts were destroyed during these councils, branded as "heretical teachings" I was appalled. However I stayed with Christianity for a very long time, because it was the only answer I had, and I had no interest in exploring Islam, given the very poor image our media portrays of it. In any case I am straying off topic. The point of the matter is, the film cites Christianity in specific, though religion in general, as being a tool of the oppressive government to maintain control of the populace. In Europe during the dark and middle ages this was made easy with wide spread illiteracy and a lack of mass publication. One had to go through a select group of people for spiritual enlightenment, and if you dared question them, well, then you were an apostate. Now, re-translating and re-interpretation occurs on such a regular basis, it's really no wonder the denominational splits that have occurred in the Christian faith, leaving even many people who follow it confused about what they believe.

Confusion is a wonderful psychological control. Small time dictators (i.e. Abusers)use it on a regular basis. Confusion diminishes credibility, and leaves a person in a state of mind where they are more willing to accept the authority of someone else and what they believe.

The ZeitGeist moves on to the use of terror. Don't think for a second that our government is above the use of terrorist tactics on it's own people. The premise of the film is that our government staged 9/11. Personally, this is still too big a pill to swallow for me. Do I believe that it's possible? There's a decent amount of evidence to give credence to the theory, and being one who sees nothing as impossible, yes, I'll say that it was entirely possible. Do I believe it's probable? I'm split about 50/50 on that. I would like to think that good American people running our government could never commit such atrocity. But, it would be naive to ignore the possibilities.

I also found it interesting what was said about financial institutions given my disgruntlement over the same issue yesterday:

Early on in part II I found it fascinating that a clip was caught of our President making a mistake of announcing that we were going after Saddam Hussein, and then immediately corrected himself to say Osama Bin Laden.

This film is so ladened with material, that instead of trying to write more about it, I'm simply going to give you the link to go watch it. It's about 2 hours long, but well worth the view. I hope that we begin thinking and doing more as a society, that we pull together and put the fear of the people into the government rather than the fear of the government into the people. And may we also realize that Blogswarm is about peace, not war.

Weekly Clutter

2008-03-18T22:52:00.004-05:00

1) Effective delivery is everything... - when relating a story. Whether you are relating an event that happened to you, or a fantastical tale that is your creation, or the creation of someone else, delivery can make or break the impact it has on the person hearing or reading it.

I can not relate how frustrating it is to have the delivery of an anecdote ruined, which frequently happens in a house where there are three children, and a spouse who is hard of hearing and has an impulsive disorder. Interruptions while I am trying to relate something that happened during the day, tend to put me, as the story teller, off track and creates a great deal of frustration. So I finally get to the point where I say, "Forget it!"

To which Mr. Muse pushes me to go on, so I generally jump to the conclusion by saying, "The point is..."

After which he generally gives me a flat look, as if to say, "You went through all that aggravation just to tell me that?", but instead says, "O.k. and...?"

And then I reply, "That's it. That's all I had to tell you." To which he gives me a confused and ingratiating smile, and I usually go off to fume over the perceived fact that my spouse of almost 10 years neither understands me nor my sense of humor.

But I've come to realize that it is not that he doesn't understand me, as much as the delivery of the anecdote was shot from the get-go, and what he doesn't understand is my frustration over it. It's like trying to tell a joke, but flubbing it up by missing one or two key details that give the punch line it's punch. So I've determined in my circumstances it's better to use the conclusion as a hook rather than a punch... when I can remember to do it that way. I prefer to keep things chronological when possible, so jumping to the conclusion first seems unnatural, but it seems to be helping me to stand and deliver a little more effectively.

2) Financial Institutions - I have little to say on this matter except that I believe everyone of them to be absolutely crooked. Personal experience does not allow me to believe otherwise, and given the very unkind things that I have to say beyond that, I think I will leave the vitriolic verbiage for another time.

3)Beauty 101 - I am now a ~~certifiable~~ certified Beauty Advisor through Avon, having completed their on-line training sessions to become so. In some ways I scoff at myself going through all of these little videos and tests when I manage to catch a minute or 20 to do so. I've never really been a girly girl, despising all that was prissy (except when pretending to be a princess of course, because every little girl wants to be a princess). I have very much always been a tom-boy, and growing up in Wyoming only seemed to nurture that further. I was interested in wearing make-up as a teen of course, but honestly, having grown up a bit, it's something I can take or leave, opting most of the time not to wear make-up. Lip gloss is about as made up as I like to get, and there is one that Avon makes that I do favor.

But, I learned a lot about skin care, which with small wrinkles beginning to show, and the havoc that allergies and sleep deprivation have wreaked about my eyes, is something I'm interested in, though at the moment I can't justify the expense.

Fragrances fascinated me though. I learned why Haiku is much stronger than the Perfume Mr. Muse bought for my birthday. Haiku is an Eau de Parfum, and Clinique (*gasp* yes I'm a traitor!) Happy in Bloom is an Eau de Toilett. Had you asked me four weeks ago I would not have been able to tell you what in the heck the difference was, now it seems pretty obvious in a "Duh!" sort of way. Eau de toilette contains less of the concentrated oils used to create a fragrance than Eau de Parfum does... not that you really wanted to know that, but there it is. I also learned that fragrance is supposed to be applied to the pulse points because the body heat causes it to evaporate throughout the day, and it is designed in such a way to give you different levels of fragrance as it evaporates, known as the high notes, mid notes, and bass notes of the fragrance.

4) Hormones - I think even less of these little guys than I do financial institutions. They rob me of my energy, and my ability to reason as well as I normally do (which generally isn't saying much). And in cases like this month, where Aunt Flo is fashionably late, I do not get a reprieve from my unwanted reminders, instead they settle in for the duration and make life miserable. Injuries from a car wreck that happened over a year ago are acting up in addition, which is causing disturbed sleep cycles, and the hormones are causing unrelatably strange dreams.

5) Crocheting - I have begun my Sunflower colored afghan in a different style, opting to move away from the square pattern and to do a row by row variation of single and double stitches, combining a white yarn with it, for extra weight and warmth (a technique my mom used to make my children their baby blankets). I've decided that the way to be able to finish a long term crocheting project is to have two going at the same time, so that when I become bored or frustrated with one, I can switch to the other. I'll see if I can fool myself into finishing a large project yet.

6) Housekeeping - As always, I have a great deal of housekeeping to attend to. *sigh* It never ends.

7) Books - I need to finish reading "1984", but will be putting it off a bit, since I finally broke down and decided to make my last trip to the library be for myself as well as for the mini-muses. They each walked out with 8 books, and i walked out with 2. One of them I didn't realize was the third installment of a series, so I shall return that until I am able to read the first two. The other caught my eye because I'm a die hard Edgar Allen Poe fan. It's called "The Poe Shadow" by Matthew Pearl. If I manage to actually read it, I'll let you guys know what I think of it.

8) Home-Schooling - Homeschooling one's children is an incredibly difficult undertaking. It's difficult to keep structure and focus in the home, and since my children have already learned to tune my voice out, it doesn't make for a conducive teaching environment. I'm hoping to have a better solution by next Fall on way or the other. I suspect that my Pookie Muse may have problems with ADD. I spend a grueling amount of time working one on one with her just to keep her on task. She fights against it too, because she doesn't want to become frustrated with not getting it right. I have so little patience it seems, and often question if I have enough to be the one to be teaching her at the moment. God help me, I'm certainly trying.

9) Spring has Sprung... I think. - The Daffodils, Narcissus, Crocuses, and Irises are making their appearance in a burst of color. (Though much to my chagrin the tulips and mini-irises I planted late in the Fall have not made their grand appearances yet.) Our weather does not know what it wants to do. Two weeks ago it snowed, now it's warm and the grass is green, I hardly even noticed the passing of winter this year, which is incredibly disconcerting, considering how much faster time seems to fly the older you get.

10) Whirlwinds - These last two weeks have moved by at the speed of a gale for me. So much activity in such a short amount of time has left me sapped and breathless. Today, I plan to clean my house at a tortoise's pace (slow but steady) and reserve as much strength as I can. Tomorrow Sister T. is holding another Halaqa, a follow up to one held last month about diseases of the heart that I plan to attend. I may do an experiment and take the children's school work with me, so that after the class I can sit with them in the class room that they learn Arabic in, and see if the change of environment will help improve their ability to stay on task with their school work.

Legacy of a Prophet

2008-03-17T00:01:00.000-05:00

Bismilah Ar-Rahmanir-Raheem. A'uthu bilahi mina shaitanir rajeem. (In the name of God, the most gracious, the most merciful. I seek refuge in Allah from Satan.) A' Salaamu Alaikum to all of my readers.Today, I'm sharing a movie, not because I have nothing to write, but because there is no way that I can say as succinctly what is said here. This is a documentary that was created by PBS. I'll include links for ordering or downloading the film, but according to the length, the embedded video should be the full movie. This is the movie we covered in our Halaqa today.

Download: Muhammad, Legacy of a Prophet
Explanations and Promotions by PBS
Order: Muhammad, Legacy of a Prophet

Muse Approved Posts

2008-03-15T18:54:00.006-05:00

Today I'm taking my ease a bit. I dropped Mr. Muse off at work, ran to Wal-Mart to pick up some juice and bottled water, and came home. The mini-muses have been incredibly helpful doing small chores around the house, and I have been link-gathering. I'm not certain why I call this my day off from blogging, considering the link gathering and compilation is probably more time consuming than writing a post of my own, but that's not actually the point. The point is I get to shine a spotlight on other excellent blogs, under the guise that I'm tired and don't feel like writing. Shhh! Don't tell anyone!

Today is known in Ohio as Buzzard Day, as it's the day the Buzzards come back to roost in Cleveland. It is generally celebrated with a large pancake and sausage breakfast. Happy Buzzard Day to my mom, who is sure to have enjoyed a steaming stack of pancakes and juicy sausage links this morning. I had my pancakes on Friday, sans the sausage. Today I've enjoyed Gyro beef with rice on wheat flatbread, and am curently drinking cranberry-blueberry juice. Here soon I will be heading to the Masjed for another Halaqa for new reverts. On that note I apologize to my regular haunts, as I have been incredibly busy this week and have not had much of a chance to make my rounds.

1) As usual Mr. Lowenkopf starts us off with his pithy writing wisdom. He first brings us the topic of Collision Courses or those lovely events that catalyze a good story, and then he brings us to writing the First Draft in which we interview the characters for their roles, and how suspense is built.

2) The lovely lady of the river, Lee responds to Mr. Lowenkopf with Soirt Humain or Human Destiny, which rather than contradicting, I tend to think expounds upon Shelly's commentary on the process of writing your first draft.

3) Speaking of Collision Courses, you might say the antithesis are those that have trouble Connecting. This in itself can be climactic also, but not very pleasant for those involved in factual situations. Never the less Digger Jones is determined, displaying the fortitude in his marriage that I cited him for some time ago in the old version of Word Picture Sunday.

4) If you have a tendency to read more than one post that's recommended on another's blog, or if you have been reading here for a while, you will note that in several of my favorite haunts the issues of fabrication and plagiarism have been tossed about and mulled over at some length of late. Gloria also has Plagiarism on Her Mind, and offers a bit of an encouraging word to those of us artists that are struggling, but at the very least remain original.

5) And speaking to fabrication, a new acquaintance, Elissa Karen addresses an e-mail she received about a completely fabricated claim in regards to an American University pulling sections covering the Holocaust from History books, because it offended Muslim students. She talks about how she treated it differently than she might have otherwise, having recently found out a close friend reverted to Islam. She says, Thank You, K. Yes , K, thank you indeed.

6) Another friend of mine has a lot to say about fabrication and propoganda as well. Bobby asks, "Will You Vote in the Rigged Election?" So, will you?

7) On a less serious note, Jodi displays her tech savoy when she talks about her New MP3 Player.

8) And if you get all befuddled with tech geekery, and you're as tired of hearing about the campaign trail as I am, maybe it's time for Visit to the Zoo with Smiler, as she shares pictures of her trip to the Sydney Zoo. Or maybe you'd like to take a stroll through her Garden in Progress. Step carefully though, there are still some tools lying about as she's still not quite finished.

9) Speaking of gardens, why not take a walk through a canyon while you're at it and take a gander at some of the oldest trees on our planet, and listen to the whispers that rustle through it's needles. If you listen close enough, you might hear Rose's poem rustling through their branches in the midst of their Carbon Trading.

10) And last, but most certainly not least, I want to take an opportunity to remind everyone that Blogswarm: Iraq is in 3 days, and as the lovely lady of the river has said, it's about peace, not war. On that note, the final blogger I wish to direct you to is Laila. She has shared a lovely song by Yusuf Islam, formerly known as Cat Stevens, titled, There is Peace.

Fire in the Mist

2008-03-15T00:00:00.000-05:00

Well we've arrived. I again will begin another quirky tale, and it is your job to help the story along. Please post about 8-10 sentences to continue the story, but be sure to leave off mid-sentence so that the next person can pick it up. There will be many twists, and wacky turns... but never fear. This is the madness in the method. You do have to wait for someone else to post before you can offer another installment. So now we find out why there's a "Fire in the Mist."

There were six of us on the river that night, paddling along the shore. If we'd had better sense maybe we might have kept ourselves docked instead of venturing down the muddy waters. Trees draped in moss menaced the cloudy night sky, and mist swirled as wraiths over the water. Not even the frogs croaked, nor did the sound of crickets caress our ears this night. It was as if the lot of us had suddenly gone blind and deaf, except to each other. The sound of the water lapping the sides of the small river boat was all that kept us awake, and it was one of those nights that you didn't dare speak above a whisper, though you didn't exactly know why.

"Up ahead!" watchman Joe shouted, and the rest of us scrambled towards the bow to see what it was he was alerting us to. A small pillar of flame danced with the mist over the water, and we immediately knew...

Thrown Against a Wall

2008-03-14T00:00:00.003-05:00


This Week’s Theme: Backstory: Tell about your characters feelings toward animals, and why she feels that way. Margot sat with her back to the corner, knees hugged up close to her chest, as her head slumped forward into her hands. Inexplicable sobs racked her body. "What's wrong with you?" Jack demanded. "You're frickin' loony. You know that? One minute you're a screaming psychopath, and the next you turn into a freakin' baby. How do I deal with this?" "Just go away," Margot replied in a low voice, holding her breath to make the sobs subside enough to answer him. "Just leave me alone." "Leave you alone? That's rich. You do this every month. You start fights with me, and then I'm the bad guy? Get your butt up and talk to me like an adult would you? You're freakin' crazy, I swear. You need some help." It was as if he'd punched a hole into the damn she'd built to hold as many of the tears she could back. Sobs and tears broke forth in torrents, and she could hardly breathe she was crying so hard. He threw his hands up into the air. "You're pathetic," he said in the most scathing voice she'd ever heard him use. "I want a divorce." He stood for a few minutes as if expecting a response. "Pathetic," he murmured angrily before turning and leaving the bathroom. She listened as his footsteps carried him out of the door and down the hall to his office, where she knew he would sink back into his office chair and go back to his computer, and where he would continue to mutter to himself all the hurtful things that he no longer had the gall to say to her face. It was not the first time that Jack had expressed he wanted a divorce, and now she only went numb when he said it. It almost seemed a salve for the other wounds he inflicted, and she wondered if it made the shield he must perceive it as for the wounds she knew she unintentionally inflicted on him. She loathed herself in these moments, for not being able to let go, for not being able to shut up. They egged each other on in their arguments... she knew that. She wasn't certain why Jack egged her on,or if he even intended to do so. But, in her case she knew what was happening, and had no control over it. She struggled so hard to, and failed every time... but he didn't believe that. He never would. Always he believed her intentions were to manipulate and to be selfish, when generally those were the furthest things from her mind. Normally she could let sarcastic comments slide, and sometimes could even appreciate his dry humor, but when these damned hormones kicked in, any roadblocks that reason told her were in place for the sake of peace, harmony, and selflessness, dissolved as limestone before acid. He would never believe that though. Jack would forever perceive her as weak minded, despite the seeming well of strength she displayed at any other given moment. Once these moments hit, every other act she did out of love for him had nothing to do with the price of tea in China, to his way of thinking. To his way of thinking she just became a mean and manipulative bitch, and nothing he ever said or did could possibly have ever provoked a reaction from her. Finally the sobs were subsiding, and now she just felt exhausted. She loathed herself, probably as much as she thought Jack did. She was startled at a slight soft brush near her ankles. As she looked up, her swollen and puffy gaze landed on the gray tabby cat they'd recently adopted for their children's pet, as it took another stride towards her and leaned in to rub the length of it's side against her pant leg. She reached down and scratched Dory, the tabby cat behind the ears. She loved cats and dogs. They always seemed to come through when a person needed a boost, and they never cared how you looked, or whether you were hormonal. Dory climbed into her lap and curled up, purring as loud as any engine could. Margot laughed suddenly at a memory. She'd had a white calico when she was a child, a fat jolly cat that had given her more comfort than she could ever recount. Upon it's initial trip to the vet, despite very obviously being nervous, the calico would not stop purring. The vet joked that she might have to throw the cat against the wall just to get her to quit purring long enough to hear her heart. For a moment, she wondered if she was crazy as Jack thought, for going so quickly from sobbing to laughing. He stepped into the bathroom with a confused look, and as their gazes met, in some sense that gaze threw the both of them against a wall... stopping their anger long enough to be able to hear their own hearts.
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About Dodger

2008-03-13T13:38:00.006-05:00

No the picture is not mine, I found it on Ask.com, but it seems to capture Dodger. Now in my Wednesday post I stated that the orange tabby in my story was purely fictional, that I've never owned an orange Tabby cat. I got to thinking about it this morning though, and our family did have one, back when I was probably 3 or 4 years old. All I remember about him is that he was named Morris, because he resembled the spokes-kitty for the 9 Lives commercials, that he stayed outside and that he ran away when any of us children approached. Seeing the way my children are with Daisy and Jo-Jo (whom I simply call Jo, because who in the world names a cat Jo-Jo), and remembering that at the time my family had three or four pre-k girls, I think Morris might have had legitimate reason to run.

But Dodger is a cat of my creation, or at least I believe he is. He has his own cat-ittude, his own preferences, and he manifests in a number of my stories, usually in the companionship of a single female character. (He likes the ladies after all.) He does not like strangers, and he's a bit uppity, generally making sure that his care-taker knows that he is neither a pet nor a possession, generally by going out of his way to ignore his care-taker until he decides they are worthy of his attention.

His favorite sleeping place is on top of a computer tower, somehow wedged in under the top of the desk above it.

He first appears in the companionship of Gammon, a character in a time that takes place in a very Orwellian type world, and Gammon is a part of a group fighting to correct things. Her main job is as a hacker, but she has much more depth than the other members of her group know.

He next appears in the company of a female private investigator, though he's not really her cat, just residing in her apartment until his usual care-taker returns from out of town. But that story died a silent and painless death, though the concept behind it is still percolating.

After that he appears in "A Cup of Coffee" as the independent companion of a CIA agent.

And this time he appeared as the feline companion that ignores the writer's angst.

Who knows where Dodger will appear next. I don't know why he appears so often, but he seems a natural piece of each story, and will probably continue to surface in unexpected places.

My Fibonacci

2008-03-13T12:47:00.004-05:00

Strive
Reach
Reach More
Reaching on.
This is all I can,
All I can do to move forward.
Reaching, striving, moving forward to do more with life,
To be who I am, to become more.
Much more than I am,
To improve,
To be,
Healed,
Whole.

Fictional and Factual Fragmentation

2008-03-12T00:00:00.003-05:00

This Week's Words:

Apartment
Began
Numb

Gloria at Writer Reading wrote a post about authors who take a real life situation (generally someone else's traumatic experience) and transforms it into a published fictional story, with no credit, notation of inspiration, compensation, or acknowledgment whatsoever to the suffering of the individual the story was "about." David at Quotidian Vicissitudes also has a bit to say about the weaving of fact into fiction, and of late it has been a running theme in my posts as well, what with reading Orwell's "1984" and the events that have transpired in my own life, that make it difficult to sift fact from fiction at times. There is also a problem with factualizing fiction as well as addressed by Lee in her post about Defonseca.

So these things have my wheels turning a bit. I will most certainly say that it is wrong to claim that you have survived major trauma, write an autobiography about it, only to later have it discovered that the entire thing was an intricate flight of fancy, and I will get to why in a few minutes. It is also equally as wrong to take the life events of someone else who has suffered legitimately and turn them into a fictional character in your best selling book. Both of these situations are wrong for very much the same reason in my mind... credibility. Namely the credibility of victims and survivors. Both of these situations discredit people who have legitimately suffered through severe trauma, and in situations where a stigma is carried with the survival of that trauma, there is an element of re-victimization involved. In the instance of the person who factualizes a fiction, inevitably the lie is exposed... and when one person's claim... say about child sex abuse... is revealed as a lie, then it is reasonable that people who have not suffered through that trauma are going to be skeptical of anyone else claiming to have survived similar circumstances. In the case of a fictionalized fact, it is easy for people to assume, when they hear a similar story of survival, that the person merely read an account in a book and is trying to copy-cat. Much like were I to claim that I was abducted by aliens, a person might assume that I'd been watching too many Science Fiction movies. (I haven't been by the way, it IS just an example after all.)

So why exactly does it matter what other people think? Why should a person care if anyone believes them, if they know their accounting of their life to be the truth? In the case of a situation like child sex abuse, there is a fair amount of brainwashing that takes place in order to keep a victim compliant. Messages of blame and shame are par for the course, and thrown in to add a bit of flavor is the message, "No one will ever believe you. You're a bad child, and everyone will think it's your fault." So first, it is important for a survivor to be believed, so that they know that they didn't make it all up, and so that they can recover from there.

More practically, it's important in the legal system. When prosecuting the perpetrators, the burden of proof is not really on the state. Oh, on paper that's what's said of course, but the truth of the matter is, the burden of proof falls on the victim. In most crimes the burden of proof should be on the plaintiff. This is how we try to keep from punishing innocent people (though of course it is not fail-proof). In murder cases, the deceased is not there to have their testimony beaten into the ground... there's a body, and forensic evidence... cold hard facts that have to be proven and weighed. It's clinical and detached as far as prosecution goes. The only people that may not find it so would be the family of the victim, but the deceased at least is not having to be called a liar to their face. In the case of child sex abuse, evidence and documentation are hard to obtain, and there is a living, breathing person, whose word sometimes is the only evidence available. The same can be said of rape cases, unless immediate action is taken after the crime. So when you have people claiming to be victims of these crimes, but are found to be liars, and in turn fictional accounts that can be cited as material for fabrication on the victim's part, this places exponential burden on the victim/survivor to prove that they are indeed telling the truth, and this burden only reinforces what their abuser told them all along... that no one would believe them, and that everyone would blame them. The victim not only has to prove that it did happen, but that they did not want, nor cause it to happen.

That being said, I'm also a writer... a writer who generally writes fiction. I use fact and fancy on a daily basis to spin my yarns, and characters I create often contain elements of fact in them. How else are they to be believable? David issues a word of caution on using fiction to thinly veil facts about oneself. I agree to a point, knowing that there are some people who can see through the veils I use more clearly than a regular anonymous audience. It is a fine line that is walked. So I have half a mind to deconstruct my most recent short story as an example of how I do things. I do not take other people's lives. I may riff on situations at times, or other authors' characters. but I'm generally able to take them in a direction or place them in a context that completely morphs it into something else, a springboard to a new idea or character if you will.

So here is a break down of fact and fiction in "Write Your Fire in the Sky":

The Potbelly Stove - Fact - Growing up we had a potbelly stove in our house as our primary source of heat. When I was old enough it was my responsibility to start the fire in the morning when I woke up, and in the afternoon when I got home from school, unless someone had been home to keep it going during the day.

The Writing Prompt - Fact - Obviously, as issued by the FF Meme.

The Poem - Fiction - I have not recently written a poem about passions. This was completely the possession of the M.C.

The Drawing of the Trees inspired by a Dream - Fact as evidenced by the post previous to this story.

The "haunting melody" or the song - Fact - The song "Luck of the Draw" is performed by Bonnie Raitt, and immediately rushed to mind when I initially read the writing prompt, as did the drawing of the trees, and the potbelly stove. I had spin-offs before I even began.

"Literal or Metaphorical" - Fact - I was not sure if I wanted the fire in the prompt to be literal or metaphorical, and since the prompt was not specific, I utilized both.

Writing Screenplays - Pure Fiction - I have never written in a play format. Too much of it depends on improvisations and the talent of the actors. I like to be able to convey everything the character is doing, without having to rely on someone else's interpretation of how the character might react.

The silent characters - Fact - Doesn't every writer struggle with non-compliant characters? I have a story that I've been writing since my oldest daughter was born, and the two m.c.'s are being absolutely non-communicative and uncooperative, so the story sits, and is dying the slow and painful death that neglect effects on a story.

Taking drastic measures with the story as a form of ransom against said characters - Fact - The threat to destroy what's written and start fresh seems to spark renewed interest from the characters in getting their stories out there. Sometimes destruction isn't necessary, sometimes throwing in a life threatening event snaps them into line too. Specifically for one of my stories, an avalanche seemed to catch the two m.c.'s attention long enough to motivate them.

Work interfering with creative passions - Obvious Fact - I think this one needs no further explanation.

The desire to garner and audience and to stand out to editors - Fact and Fiction - Of course some day I hope to be published, and when I do finally finish a piece to be sent in to an editor, I hope by some miracle to be spared the agony of a rejection letter... though... I doubt that I will get by unscathed in this regard. As it stands now though, I write for the sheer joy of doing so. I'll worry about my loftier goals when I get to the bridge that will take me to them. So presently this is fiction that may some day become fact.

"Write what you know..." - Fact - I can't count the number of times that I have heard this advice, and how many times I have had to scoff at it, being the big Fantasy and Sci-fi fan that I am. Angela's actions in the story kind of fly in the face of this advice, though she believes that she's trying to follow it.

"All she knew was..." - Fact - I've been in the place where I felt that all I knew anymore was the daily grind, and that there was no room left in my life for creativity. Such circumstances leave the mind and the senses numb.That's a very dismal spot to be, and stinks like unwashed bodies, old cooking grease, and stale alcohol.

The Orange Cat and the musty apartment - Fiction - I have never owned an orange tabby cat, and I've not lived in an apartment. At least not the kind of apartment visualized here. The tabby cat appears in a number of my stories though, usually by the name of Dodger. Don't ask me why. I don't even know.

The line from the song as motivation - Most definitely fact - There are a great number of songs that for some reason one line will sink it's hook into the meat of my brain, spurring me to keep going. For any given period of time in my life, I have a theme song assigned somewhere. For my PPD it was "Unwell," My Senior Semester seemed to be summed up in "One Headlight" by the Wallflowers, my romance with Mr. Muse is echoed in "Truly, Madly, Deeply" by Savage Garden. And I've since adopted "I knew I loved You Before I Met You" by the same group. Always in my moments of discouragement, some line from a poem or song will pop into my head to give me hope, or to tell me why I need to keep going.

Not seeing the obvious -Fact - Oh yeah, there's plenty of inspiration to be found right under our nose, if we're aware enough to look at it.

The man who orders water every night - Pure Fiction - I have observed similar quirky behavior in people, but this one is a complete fabrication. It was inspired by sighting a very large man, in a very small truck in my rear view mirror, while waiting in the drive-thru line at Little Caesars. Where the character I presented is not the man I observed, that brief moment of observation inspired the observation Angela makes about the man in the corner.

The question - Fiction - I never sat down across the table from a customer to ask them why they did something odd. My employers while I waited tables were tolerant, but I don't think they would have been that tolerant.

Waiting to be asked the question - Fact - I have often done odd things or said strange things just to see how observant people really are, in hopes that they would ask about it. Odd things make for great conversation starters, and good conversations can make for great stories.

So there you have it, a great deal of fact, woven into the context of a fictional situation... but done in such a way that shouldn't discredit or be harmful to anyone. Credit, is really the issue here isn't it? The credit for the inspired and the inspiree, and a motivation not to discredit those that deserve to have credence lent to their life's tale. This is really the responsibility that writers carry. Even in fiction we are in some ways obligated to tell the truth. If it is pure fiction, a small blurb that any resemblance to actual persons or events is purely coincidence is in order. If it is a piece of someone else's life that has been fictionalized, then we owe that person the decency of mentioning that the tale we've woven was based on actual events, that is if the events belong to someone else's story. In fact I would go further to say that the person who inspired the story should be entitled to royalties in the case that a profit is made. In non-fiction we are obligated further still to make sure that what we present is not in any way fabrication.

First, do no harm. Second, give credit where credit is due, and take none away from those who deserve it. Thirdly, inspire others as you have been inspired, particularly those who have inspired you. Fourth, write your fire in the sky, while giving others the opportunity to do the same. These are the ethics we are bound to as writers.

Of No Country For Old Men and Other Stuff

2008-03-11T11:08:00.007-05:00

I am most certainly not a night owl, but Mr. Muse is. Last night we stayed up until 2 a.m. watching "No Country For Old Men." It's difficult to form an opinion of this movie other than to say, I just didn't get it. There was no form of a conclusion that I could identify, and it left me with the distinct feeling that I had missed something somewhere. It wasn't even a hanging conclusion, it just seemed to end abruptly after Tommy Lee Jones' character relates a dream to his wife, that had metaphoric meaning, but seemed utterly unrelated to the two apparent main characters. I'll have to read the book to find out what the movie might have been lacking, and to see if I'm missing the connection somewhere, which is entirely possible, considering my first statement, which is that I'm not a night owl. Maybe I need to find the Cliff's notes on it... A Guide to "No Country for Old Men" for Dummies maybe. I did find myself thinking of a book I read in High School, "The Pearl" by John Steinbeck, in which the M.C. learned the hard way that some things are worth more than physical wealth... unfortunately he learned his lesson a little too late.

My mind was also befuddled after spending several hours cleaning the mini-muse's room. Many broken and outdated toys found their way into the trash. I need to go through their sea of stuffed animals and offer some of them up on Freecycle. I am once again going to plug Freecycle for those who don't know about it. On my other blog (which has been severely neglected of late) I had mentioned a dearth of bedding in the Muse household. Our lovely bed was being covered in a combination of mismatched twin size comforters, and the mini-muses were making due with a large monstrosity of a blanket on their bottom bunk. I posted a wanted message for my local freecycle group for comforters of any size. Days went by, and I figured no one had any. And then a lady contact me in order to have me pick up these beauties:

Top: The Beautiful Comforter on my bed!
Bottom: K-Bug and Pookie's new comforter. (As you see they've already got some marker on it.)

Top: Son-shine's new bedspread. ( I almost wish his was the Queen size. I love the blue and yellow pattern together.)
Bottom: A Bulletin board that came with the girls' bedding.

There were also some curtains, but I haven't had a chance to hang them, but the matching lamp is on their night stand, and they are thrilled to have it. We find very nice things on Freecycle all of the time, and this saved me probably close to $200 that I would have spent at Wal-Mart, buying products that I wouldn't have enjoyed nearly as much.

Other than that, I have massive amounts of work to do, and none of the energy I need to do it. I've been thinking about doing a piece on PMDD soon, but am not sure how to approach it without it sounding like a whine-fest presently. I can take the cold and clinical approach, but that hardly conveys what it's actually like for the person going through it.

I'm enthusiastic about selling Avon, though am not sure yet about recruiting people. I have to admit that I have a weakness. I am not really a salesperson, never have been. If someone wants a product, then they'll buy it. If they don't then I'm not going to browbeat them into making a purchase they don't want to make in the first place. I'm a "soft-seller" so to speak. Customer Service on the other hand, now I can do that all day long. So I'm hoping my strength in the latter will help balance out my weakness in the former. As to recruiting people, where I know there is more potential earnings, somehow it seems odd to me to continuously flood a concentrated area with more vendors than there are buyers. It flies in the face of logic to me, but then again I have to remind myself that it's not like I'm living in a small town anymore, and that the reason I decided to start doing it, is because I know an entire community of women whom most people don't make it a habit to approach, because they have misconceptions about Islam and it's outlook on beauty. One of my friends made me laugh at the Aqueqa the other night. I offered some samples of lip color, stating that she was welcome to them, but that I wasn't sure if she wore them. (Some women do and some don't.) She responded, "What, you think after 10:00 I don't wear this stuff? After 10:00 the tiger comes out." So I have to remind myself that there may be people who can tap into similar cluster communities that they are a part of. I'm still waiting to see how it will pan out, a healthy dose of skepticism that is just barely keeping my enthusiasm in check.

Meanwhile I need some food, coffee, and to get the children started on their home school lessons for the day, not to mention a kitchen and a bathroom that are in desperate need of being cleaned. The cleaning never ends it seems. Somedays I wonder why I even try to keep a clean house... and then I remind myself that it drives me nuts. It's a no win situation. It drives me nuts to constantly be cleaning and it drives me nuts to have a dirty house. Some days one wins, and on other days the other claims victory. I eagerly anticipate the day that the children have moved out and the only people I will have to clean up after are Mr. Muse and myself... but not too much. Despite the messes I don't want my children to grow up too fast.

Hadith and Intentions

2008-03-10T06:25:00.002-05:00

Bismilah Ar-Rahmanir-Raheem. A'uthu bilahi mina shaitanir rajeem. (In the name of God, the most gracious, the most merciful. I seek refuge in Allah from Satan.) A' Salaamu Alaikum to all of my readers. I should state right off that this is a highly personal post, more of a journal really than an informational piece, though it is about Islam, so I feel it is appropriate for my Muslimah Monday post. That being said, I'll just get on with it.

Sunday was a very interesting day. Son-shine's birthday is Wednesday, but in order to celebrate with his grandparents we met up with them at Chuck E. Cheese's and let the kids have fun. We did not reserve a table and do the whole birthday package thing, having learned our lesson from the last time. This time the kids enjoyed it, and so did we as their parents, but it was not really a good scene for the grandparents. All the flashing lights bother my father-in-law who is legally blind in both eyes, and the noise aggravates a nervous disorder that he has. So in the future we may just take the kids there for an hour or two, and then meet up with them some place a little quieter, and where it's easier to actually enjoy visiting with them. Today we finished up there and then took them to a small restaurant on the way out of town for a cup of coffee.

After that I asked Mr. muse to stop at the Masjed so we could pray, thinking with the time change that I was late for Asr, and had completely missed Dhur. As it turns out, after completing Asr and my to rakaat for forgetfulness, the A'than sounded. Woops! I hate the time change. In any case, Sister Khadijah was holding a Halaqa, or lesson, for new reverts. In my case I'm not exactly a new revert, but I still have a lot to learn. Yesterday we covered the 6 articles of faith and some of the Hadith, or sayings of the Prophet, sallallahu' alayhi wasallam. Now there was some discussion at length about the dependability of some hadith contrasted with others, mainly that the hadith were preserved through a chain of narration, and some are more reliable in their authenticity than others. Generally hadith will include a list of names in the chain of people that narrated it.

The ones that in particular stand out in my mind are a few that we covered today, which go to the subject of niyyah which refers to a person's willingness, or intention. Again I feel the need to reference the video that Laila posted. It's a beautiful song, that still seems to get me all emotional hearing it.

The first one I want to share really struck home for me today, though there are some things that it is impossible to give an explanation for. Suffice it to say, in my personal life there are things going on that I do not discuss in my on-line life... that in some ways I wish wholeheartedly to share because it would be such a wonderful means of unburdening my heart and mind. However I would not just be exposing myself, my problems, and my struggles, but those shared by the people I care most about, and it is hardly fair to lift the veil on them, simply because I am overwhelmed and need to unload. So my intentions at the moment in a great many things are wreaking havoc.

I have always thought of God in some ways as the stern and watchful, all seeing eye if you will, recording and remembering every good and bad thing I've ever done, and waiting to see how I will measure up in the end, while somehow already knowing that I will never make the cut. In Christianity it was quite simple, in that Jesus, peace be upon him, was to be the one to bridge that gap, a personification of the grace that a just God should have. That never sat right with me, (no offense intended to Christian believers) spirituality being the very personal thing that it is, but it was the only answer I had, and I had every shred of faith in the existence of God, so it was what I went with. In entering Islam I struggled a great deal with the concept that it is God who forgives sins, not Jesus (again no offense to Christian believers), because in some ways I felt as if I had been stripped of a security blanket, but was attracted to the idea that culpability and responsibility were once again in my hands, and not the burden of a deity that had been crucified and killed. I will say here, that this is reflective only of my spiritual struggles, and as such are valid in their reasoning to me, and I do not necessarily expect them to apply to anyone else, nor to garner anyone else's agreement or support. So please bear this in mind as you are reading... I am in some ways really putting myself out here, and realize the vulnerability for attack that I am exposing myself to. In any case, though I was happy to once again be shouldering the responsibility for my own actions, I however was once again back to the feeling that God was this stern, all seeing, all judging deity that would find me always lacking, no matter how much I could or could not strive. Such thinking has led to discouragement and a propensity for giving up before I begin of late. Perhaps this is why the song that Laila posted strikes such a personal note with me.

Today in class however we discussed a hadith that is narrated on the authority of
Ibn Abbas, radiyallahu 'anhu, who reported the Prophet Mohamed, subhana wa' t'Allah as saying:

"Verily Allah has recorded the good deeds and the evil deeds." Then he clarified that: "Whosoever intends to do a good deed but does not do it, Allah records it with Himself as a complete good deed; but if he intends it and does it, Allah records it with Himself as ten good deeds, up to seven hundred times, or more than that. But if he intends to do an evil deed and does not do it, Allah records it with Himself as a complete good deed; but if he intends it and does it, Allah records it down as one single evil deed."

In layman's terms, God grades on an incredibly generous curve. Far more generous, at least, than I have ever been with myself. Upon reading this yesterday, I nearly cried, thoughI manged to hold it in check fairly well. I may have been imagining it, but I'm almost certain there were tears in Sister Khadijah's eyes as she expounded upon the lesson of the hadith. In addition another hadith on the same topic was discussed. It is narrated on the authority of Anas, radiyallahu 'anhu, who said:

I heard the Messenger of Allah, sallallahu 'alayhi wasallam say, "Allah the almighty said:'O Son of Adam, so long as you call upon Me, and hope in Me, I shall forgive you for what you have done, and I shall not mind. O Son of Adam, were your sins to reach the clouds in the sky and were you then to ask forgiveness of Me, I shall forgive you. O Son of Adam, were you to come to Me with an earthful of sins and were you then to face Me, without having associated anything with Me, I shall grant you an earthful of pardon."

It is nice to know that the issues of repentance and forgiveness continue to be a universal theme in my spirituality. Somehow on a basic level I knew that God was merciful balanced also with being a just God, but given the compartmentalized view I had, it was difficult in some ways to link everything together into one place. But what it still boils down to, is no matter how big my mistakes may be, God is always bigger, and there is nothing that God is not capable of, including forgiveness of things, which in our limited scope appear at times as completely unforgivable. Astugfar Allah, that I ever had any doubts about His ability to forgive, and about his everlasting Sabr, or patience. Alhomdulilah that I am still teachable, and that there are people willing to teach.

After the lesson it was nearly time for Magrhib, and there was an Aqeqa, which is kind of like a baby shower, for a new mother in our community. We were at the Masjed until around 10 p.m. last night.

Today, I have massive amounts of cleaning, Avon orders to attend to, and homeschooling to deal with, so I may not be able to make my rounds. Insha' Allah maybe this evening when I have a chance to breathe.