Beth Cassini: In My Monet

Trading Mugs

2012-01-23T09:16:00.000-05:00

Trading mugs.

I have ten minutes to throw something on this page. And I'll take it!

James Morrison just said from my speaker, "If it's gonna be a rainy day, there's nothing we can do to make it change. We can pray for sunny weather, but that won't stop the rain." So, I looked outside my window that has been revealing only gray, misty skies and water drops falling in slow motion for days now and I agreed out loud. "James Morrison, that is true." But, whether rain or shine is the weather out my window, inside my forecast is bright beaming light. The sun is coming through smiles. Nick and I are quite happy to be home. China, Selma Lu Mela, and Te'a are curled into their same old positions, listening to the same old playlist, in brand new spots. And that glow warms me. Cold, damp day- not here.

I unloaded the dishwasher earlier and all the white foggy glasses and water-spotted colanders came out and as I decided what needed a new home and what should stay, I smiled at this particular reminder of Edenton, NC. If I hadn't loved that little village and the certain people it holds, I would've cussed (just ask Nick what kind of crazy comes out when my dishes are damaged... not so pretty), but it made me smile instead. The water there was my rival. It was horrible water. For people and for dishes. But, I laughed and remembered all the frustration I had unloading my different pieces for a year and half there and how tempting it was to want to take long baths but not be able to soak in the blasted water. Then, I grabbed my big North Carolina Starbucks mug and walked to my coffee station (yes!!! another wonderful part of my new home :) and instead of putting it up in the cabinet by the Atlanta Starbucks mug... I kept it down. I filled up my mug. I traded mugs. It's much like trading spaces, but tastes better and is instant gratification- no heavy hauling required.

I sat in Edenton, had many quality, "this is what life is REALLY all about", meaningful moments and drank out of my Atlanta skyline mug- missing it with a tear in my eye.

I sit in Atlanta (Roswell, actually), having a quality, "this is what life-learning, in-progress looks like", meaningful moment and am sipping from my North Carolina mug- missing it with a smile on my face.

And the constants remain.

My love, Nick.

My pups.

My music.

My pieces that together make a home.

And coffee.

This is a morning of rain and water spots; music and moving; trading spaces and trading mugs. I'm home.

Ten minutes are up.

Worldwide Wish

2012-01-01T11:33:00.001-05:00

My New Year's Wish to the World we live in:

To be mindful in actions and wishful in thought

To believe in what the soul speaks of from within and step forward confidently in that belief

To critically listen to words of others and reason independently siting motive more and finesse less

To reach for clarity, to aim for truth, to land in integrity

To realize reality is not so much real as it is anticipated and projected

To be- by releasing conformity and expectation of sameness

To allow difference with a smile

To trust; not a speech, not a handshake, but a life's exhibition

To look in creatures' eyes because what you see there matters most

To pray with imagination and not fear and fall asleep with childlike security

To rise each day as the sun with simple gifts of light and life

To become the person you wish to be alone that makes the world we all wish to share

2012.

At the intersection of Wills and Wells Fargo

2011-12-27T17:02:00.006-05:00

Do you know when it's hard to write? When you don't feel like yourself. It's hard to write when you can't put words on a page that reflect who you are in your heart. And since August there have been very few moments when I actually felt I could write. (In stark contrast, June and July contained some of my life's most amazing moments, which perhaps makes this all the more intolerable.) That is why I have been keeping myself so far away. I'm estranged from my life and to write only makes it that much clearer to me. There's a throb, a heavy thud of a tug in my chest that makes that cavity where my heart sits seem vacant and hollow and the word hurt keeps coming to mind. I believe in a combination of Destiny and Free Will and the older I get the more I see that Free Will is Destiny's gift. I used to say, "One has to embrace Destiny for Destiny to get a part in one's life." And to me that meant that I had to make space for Destiny in my life. I had to decide that I wouldn't make every choice and I would leave room for Destiny to lead me. My role was to follow signs and wish and release. That is still a large part of my belief system. I sometimes think that I had certain topics figured out early on in life and it makes me happy to realize that this heavy thought I indulged in has served me well. It has served me happiness. So, here I sit now- on 12.26- wondering what the hell I did, or rather, did not do, that has led me to a perfect storm of chance and limbo and uncertainty. The very things and moments in my life that I gave thanks for so many times are beyond vanished, they are so out of sight that I feel my spirit clawing from the inside of me. I feel fingernails scratching with desperation, trying to shred this new skin I have on and reclaim my life's peace- my life's place.

On my way to work this morning (there will be many topics I owe explanation on, and will get to in time, but it will take quite a bit of time. Many things have changed.) I was struck by a song I've heard hundreds of times but it sounded new to me and the reason why is because I connected with its main projected thought. It was in the form of a question and the question is relevant in so many ways. "What's going on?" I usually, as you know, would be asking the question directed to the world at large. But, not now. Even though I have many people, places and systems to ask that question, I am bringing it in to my microcosm and asking in a loud voice "What's going on?" I'm asking myself, yes. I'm asking the Universe. I'm asking God- although, my tone sweetens as I do. And I want to know, what was my thought pattern that has served me with such chaos. Was it the fact that I moved so quickly? (We are back in Atlanta, GA.) Was it because I moved so quickly and in that short time of packing we experienced 4 natural disasters, producing a feeling of chaos that has yet to expire- and in turn keeps giving what feels like a perfect storm of a scenario to live in day in and day out for the 4 months since? Did I really opt so far out of the peace zone that I'm projected into this much muck?

Most of all though, I ask "What's going on?" to one particular entity: Wells Fargo.

In August, we entered contract with Wells Fargo on a bank owned town home with a 9.18 Closing Date. It's pretty humorous considering that this listing advertised "Must Close by 9.30.2011" and after we entered contract and set our Closing Date for 9.18 Wells Fargo very authoritatively issued a prospective penalty fee to us for each and every day we went past deadline. Nick and I immediately wrapped up our life in Edenton, NC. He got all things in order at work for his departure. We secured our finances to meet our end of this arrangement in a perfunctory manner. We got Mayflower Movers from Athens, GA , our trusted moving company, in line and ready to haul our belongings and store them for the two weeks between our move and the Closing Date. We packed EVERYTHING ourselves. I wrapped every item, taped every box, labeled thoroughly our possessions in as fast of a manner conceivable. Meanwhile, an earthquake rattled our state randomly. My china was shaking behind me in the china cabinet as I wrapped the Waterford goblet in my hand and I thought "Why, it's the strangest thing, but I think the Earth is moving." I turned and asked mom, who drove 13 hours with my father to come help us meet this very definite deadline of a date, "Mom, is the Earth moving?" Indeed. We experienced an earthquake. It was all okay at that point. No harm done and we actually got to ask ourselves that question which ranks pretty high on a "Can You Believe This?!" story-telling list. Days later, as we continued to haul ass packing up our entire life, a hurricane came knocking on Edenton, NC's door. It was a doozie. Mayor Bloomers issued a mandatory evacuation for the humongous city of NYC (Which is a really dominating move if you ask me. What if you are 80 and have no car and no where to go? Mayor Bloomy gets to kick you out on the street for your own welfare? Wouldn't an indoor facility be safer than that?) Our own neighbors were leaving in droves. I wasn't so sure. Unless told where this gigantic storm was going exactly, I preferred the 100+ year old brick, steel, and beamed building to hide in as opposed to my Audi A4 on an open road sitting in the middle of other scurrying souls. So, we continued to pack. Well into the storm, we wrapped, and taped and smooshed and categorized. The hurricane hit and I laid still in bed watching the silhouettes of trees swaying on my wall in front of me. I listened to the high pitched whistle and howls of the wind. Our pooch Tea' came up to my bed and issued a wolf-howl to me and touched my leg so I followed her downstairs to a hallway, where she sat with me until finally two hours later, she left me and went back to her resting spot. Not so surprisingly, my phone alerted me of several tornadoes that had touched down in that exact time frame. The last one occurred moments before Tea' finally left my side. She sensed the chaos. She sensed it perfectly. As the wind sprayed the rain and the hurricane raged, the tornadoes touched down, spinning off from the funnels, and the waters rose flooding Edenton's streets. The Sound came across the street. Queen Anne's Creek was now in our parking lot. All this time, we packed. We risked a pretty good bit to meet this deadline in our contract with Wells Fargo. I can't come close to saying they treated our agreement with the same respect. Where were my senses in all this? I could learn from sweet Tea'.

We got to Atlanta safely. And we have appreciated our generous friends and family who have let us stay with them in their homes during our wait. Our Closing Date came and went. Over 6 times. It is the day after Christmas Day and I am now beginning a new search for homes. Our town home is still waiting on us. We are still waiting on it. And we are still waiting on Wells Fargo. They haven't communicated. They haven't honored one portion of our agreement. They haven't resembled a respectable institution with which I would ever recommend doing business. They have created a perfect storm that has affected my life in a much more dramatic fashion than the hurricane, tornadoes, flood or earthquake did. Comparing Mother Nature and Wells Fargo is a disrespect to our Earth. There is no rhyme or reason, no purpose served, no higher sense or logic to Wells Fargo and this company's actions. Do they deserve the high quantities of mortgages they are stuck paying with foreclosures? Why yes. I think they do. Because I've been begging them to take one in particular off their hands. They would rather be negligent; lie to keep lives in limbo as they continue to ignore their responsibility, their business. And for every answer I do happen to get this is what is said "It's just the process." No. It is not a process that is to blame. And yes. I am blaming at this point. I am pointing my finger and I am blaming Wells Fargo for being a sorry establishment that fails at its job. But a process? Don't get yourself off the hook so easily. A process is a string of actions that people put in place. A process is an inanimate thing. People are the problem. The people that put this string of nonsense actions in place is to blame. And the people who choose to not perform those nonsense actions and just GET IT DONE are to blame. Wells Fargo. You suck.

I flip them off every time I see one of their ugly yellow and red signs. I cuss at them every time I see one of their ugly bank buildings. And I smile whenever someone tells me they've left Wells Fargo because Wachovia was so much better and they aren't happy since the take-over. I embrace this immature streak because they deserve every bit of loss they get. They aren't good at business. This behavior is unacceptable. Since when do contracts mean nothing to one side of the deal only? Since when do you get to ignore an agreement to the point of non-communication and blatant, knowing lies?

So, 4 months of Wells Fargo is enough. I'm not giving any more of my precious time in life over to an irresponsible bank. It's a great town home, but ultimately- I don't care about that. I care about my peaceful life that I want back. I care about my family: Nick, me, my 3 pups. I care about our music and stories and conversations, our quiet moments together. I do not care about any set of walls enough to postpone my time with the above a moment longer.

So, the hunt is on again. Nick found one fantastic option in a better location, but I found out it sold this morning. It closed in 3 days. So, apparently the process works for some agreements. I choose to put myself in an honored contract such as that. If I had anything to do with this set of circumstances, then okay, I accept that maybe chaos breeds chaos and that is what happened here and I obliged. But, I grasp serenity and order in this moment. I will rely on my Free Will. I will myself to let go of Wells Fargo and not consume myself with their toxicity of a business. I will myself to allow Destiny to take me down a calmer path.

I mentioned signs earlier as one of my life's responsibilities. Back in November, I was in a state of worry and struggle with my lack of the life I had worked to create and I was driving my car. I heard a song that came on and this song reminds me of my angels every time I hear it. I said aloud, "Thank you. I so needed this song right now." I stopped at the light. As the light turned green and the car in front of me eased forward, I was smacked forward. I got rear-ended for the first time ever. The car in front of me was gone so I didn't hit it. I wasn't hurt. The guy who hit me looked genuinely startled when I asked him "You didn't see me?" He blinked hard and deliberately as if he were checking his eye sight. "No. I didn't." he said with confusion. As I got in my car to drive out of the intersection, I looked up to see where I was for the traffic report. I was at the intersection of Wills Rd.. I had been screaming for help. I had a sign from an angel sound loud and clear. Then, I was thrust forward into the intersection of Wills.

I ask myself now, "Which way will I go?" "Do I choose Will Power (never been a favorite)? Free Will? Destiny?"

It's something I will consider, but for now I can say that I will probably go with what has served me best my entire life before this storm of a mess. I'll resort to my hard thought and philosophy from childhood and I'll intersect two. My life's Free Will chooses to include Destiny and I'll read the signs along the way. Did I need to be reminded about signs and the collision of causation? My new direction will begin with this choice and the additional choice to release a negative catalyst- the oddly placed enemy of mine: Wells Fargo. I will make my wish again for a beautiful and perfectly suited home for me and my family. And I will let Destiny help run my course. Take me home.

It's true I had a calm before the storm. I had a great summer. I've since had the mother load of the Perfect Storm. What has it felt like? A rebirth. A difficult renewal. Now, I wait for New Life. I'm here in this location- a decision that seemed to evolve naturally by means of uncanny opportunities. Since then, an immensely unnatural set of results has occurred month after month. There is no more energy for the storm. I am brewed out. So, I wait for the sun to peak through. I say the words I opened my prized possession of a book with: "Lord, Let the Sun Shine on Me." It is the end of 2011. This special year that represents my birth to me, 2.11, is nearly over. And my wish is similar to the story my mother told me of how I was born. She said there was a dark, cold, windy winter outside, the coming Winter Olympics and all the heroic stories of athletic triumph were on the television when I decided to come into Earth. She said she delivered me (naturally- drug free I'll add, bravo mama!!) at 1:55 AM (= 11 :) on February 11, 1980 and when she held me in her arms the very first morning of mine that a tiny slit of sunshine beamed through the blinds of the window on a grey, cloudy day and that it showered my face and nothing else in the room. She told me that she gasped and put her finger on the tip of my nose and told me then and there as an infant that I was special. I visualize this with such detail that I can see myself as a baby in my mother's arms, fresh to the world- just having made it through a Perfect Storm of sorts. (A story like that will get you through anything in life. If you don't have one, promise me you'll make one up for yourself.) It snowed in South Georgia that winter. Unheard of. Since that story, I always walk into the fresh day and say to the sky, "Lord, Let the Sun Shine on Me." or I say it when I feel a sunbeam of light upon my face- but I've forgotten to lately. I've been in a whirlwind.

Free Will, meet Destiny.

This is my fresh day.

He Means Ways of words.

2011-08-23T23:29:00.002-04:00

He steeps like tea over the page. The words that would flow like water have evaporated to steam.

Why can I not think?
Why am I at loss?
When my mind was mine I came across sharp from the tongue. But now all I can think about is the trigger on my gun.
When they came calling, I answered back. And my enemy's wrath has a strong lash.
Where did the time go?
Where did my mind go?
I'm shocked my mind turned to mush. I'm shocked my life has amounted to such.
And if I do not finish the deed what will be done?
Will they come and claim me and worse than my own be shown?
My name is my face now. I will live on- and in that name is what will see and what will be seen.
Time can come to show my love of all that I do.
With time's ticket I gain entry to the demise of my enemy. When the clock goes tock and the day is done- my enemy's deeds will unravel him until he's undone.

These words are stuck within him. They don't fall down to the page. The plug is pulled and cold steel is felt between his finger and his thumb.
He and all his words fall down onto the page.

(~a small tribute to a literary great.)

Show, not Tell

2011-07-30T10:57:00.001-04:00

Today I thought, since I'm limited on time, that I'd post some photos and keep the writing to a bare minimum. That way I can show and not tell and you can come up with your own impressions of this (my) city named Zurich. It's a real gem, a beauty, and part of me wants to keep it a secret. I think, "Oh no, what if I'm not the only one who thinks of Zurich as ideal and everyone rushes in and the madness that has enveloped the world at large pounces on Zurich too?" Then I think, "Oh yeh, Switzerland already thought of that and they aren't taking new citizens very easily." I think that a person seeking Swiss citizenship must live in Switzerland for 13 years before they become eligible for citizenship. (I'll fact check that later and get back to you.) That's a long time. I guess they figure if you have lived in and contributed to Switzerland for 13 years, then you deserve her recognition. I don't blame them for that. In fact, I'd like to learn more about how they have collaborated and created this place I witnessed and revere.

Here are some pictures... enjoy Zurich!

Looking up at the elegant balconies.
In the balcony world, these are roses.

Outdoor Seating.

Nick and I walked by the water before weaving through alleys.
He has told me how much he loved Switzerland since childhood and now I see why.

I'm so happy here in this shot.

Nick and I watched the swans and the water is very clear so their cute webbed feet put on quite a different show than the smooth gliding happening on the skin of the water.

One of MANY pretty structures.

I hold strong affection for birds.
I could watch them and talk to them all day.

I did a lakeside waltz for Nico. I think he's beyond being embarrassed when I do these things.

Passion!

Majestic.

Life happening in the alleys.

I love YOU too! What a happy city!

I wonder what lucky kid gets to sit in that window seat?

Landing in Swiss in Bliss

2011-07-29T17:35:00.006-04:00

Deboarding the plane-getting through customs-exchanging currency-catching the train-waiting on the tram street side. It was all as seamless as the marble floor that I admired as I strolled my bag through the Zurich airport. I made sure my admiring scope of the floor fit Nick's feet in too. I do this cop-out of a thing when I am traveling with him- I follow. It's just so easy. I know it's horrible that I'm not more of an upfront thinking, directing, commanding co-traveler... but, then again... is it after all?? Nick is a seasoned globe trotter. I exit any building or vehicle and just head right, thinking I'll sort all kinks out along the way. Do you see the difference? I am presented with this option: Be a leader. Be an individual traveler. Be lost. OR Be... behind Nicholas. & Hey. That's not a bad position to be in if you get my drift. I lead in some areas, but this area is his forte. I can do it by myself, domestically or internationally, I'm not a moron, but he leads us effortlessly and allows me to marvel and ooh and aah. I love that about our relationship!

Sheep. Check. Marble. Check.
Happy to be in Zurich. Check.

Did you notice my city? Did you catch that or did you skim right past it? ZuRiCh! zUrIcH! ZURICH!! ...oooh... aaah... Zurich has wrapped me around her little alp.

So, the first impression of Zurich was from the air, out the window, over my Portuguese friend's shoulder. Crisp is what it looked. Someone has ironed beautiful sheets of grass in all different shades up and around and smoothly down the Swiss landscape. Meeting this pressed patchwork pattern is a silky greenish blue swirl of water winding along the way rivers like to do. It has come from the most dynamic of zigzags, the Swiss Alps, and this silky river borrowed the ice from the zig and snow from the zag and breathed on it like a pane of glass until that steamy breath made one trickle, then two, then three and then from the fourth flowed a river as pure and crystal as the ice from which it melted. And this I saw from the air and how the clarity of its own character fed and nourished the earth and its people and animal life. Life. This place radiated in a beautiful and vibrant way and that looked like the word Life. And that was just my impression from the air.

The best shot I could get out the window.
I was practically hovering over the neck of the man in the actual window seat!

Entering the society that has flourished in this setting was remarkable easy and comforting. Like I already mentioned, the airport was pretty darn awesome with its shining marble floor and modern EVERYTHING. The only odd thing I remember seeing is a Starbuck's. I thought, "for real?" But, it was limited to the airport.

Waiting on Nick in Zurich's
airport, people watching.

Most everywhere we went during the entire trip, these chains were given assigned seating and it was the Stations. Train, plane... that's where they think their market is and they are right. Americans will be at these locations and so their food is too. (I say their instead of our here because I'm not claiming that sad, sorry, pathetic habit. In Zurich someone wants a Whopper? Give me an effing break! In Italy, someone requests Burger King because they "don't trust foreign food"? First of all, I want to say to them, "You're stupid, go home." Italians KNOW food. And then I want to say to them, "Did the potato and cow you are devouring come from Kansas? Are you in Rome and eating an American cow or an Italian one? And if you want frozen, shipped, old food... you deserve all the yuck that's in your mouth." That's what I want to say to that person, but I don't because that's really mean.) But, Starbuck's is in the airport and it's okay because it's coffee. Not the best coffee in the world, but it is not a terrible cultural trademark. I got to observe these things as I waited on Nick to get whatever he was getting and then come back to me. I stood in the middle of the floor with my suitcase and his and watched all these really good looking people walk around. And, one cute girl stuck out. She had a southern accent and was dressed like a Polo ad. She was marching around looking at signs and telling her husband what she was reading. I thought, "Do I look like that? Do I sound like that? I don't think I do, but do I?" She was precious and I was happy to see someone repping America without a fanny pack, but I wondered if I looked neon in the black and white photo too. By the time Nick came back I had already decided I loved this place I was in. It was just Marble-ous!

Nick waiting with me to get on the train.

Who cares that I got zero sleep?
Not me!
Let's go see the city!

Now, how do we get to our hotel?

Oh! Look! Right outside the airport is an electric tram system that you simply purchase a token for from a conveniently located machine (On the honor system btw! What? No one shoots you in the back five times here like they do in San Francisco because you don't have a ticket and that must, well, be considered the most criminal, death-deserving thing in the modern day world!? No, they don't do barbaric things like that over this tram. You may live... and board the tram.) and then you just get on it and ride on it until it stops at the location nearest your destination. So simple it made our heads spin. Brand new and up to date was everything in this city. I watched the floor of the tram pivot and swivel under my left foot while the floor under my right foot remained still. I was half in the bend of the tram and half out of it. So cool.

This city is full of clever ideas like electric trams
and diesel cars!

When we got off this tram we walked over a block and then down a block and checked into our hotel with an English speaking desk manager. Note: Switzerland has three different language speaking regions. French, think Geneva. Italian, think Lugano. And German, think Zurich. But, all of those regions have one language in common and that is English. Everyone I met spoke English like a professor.

Just one clipping of the pretty streets we walked
to make our way to our hotel
in Zurich, Switzerland.

Happy already and yearning to explore, I voted nada to nap time and yes to getting changed and walking the streets to find dinner beats. Check in. Change. Check this place out.

As I took my awesome key and inserted it into my deep cobalt blue lacquer door, I felt like I was unlocking the one item left in Pandora's box, the good one, the one called Hope, and fairies and gnomes were waiting to poof magical dust on me and shout "Surprise!!" "You're here!" "You made it!" I sigh as I write this and remember the instant pleasure I had in Zurich over just being alive and able to see it. I was thankful to just BE THERE. (I see my name in that. neato.) I was finding treasure. I was in the treasure. And in Zurich I felt I was treasure too. Which makes this sentence round out like this... In Zurich I found myself.

Portugal's Portion

2011-07-28T13:55:00.003-04:00

Is it any secret that I look for signs in all things and like to follow life like a scavenger hunt? Nope. This trip, especially this segment, was no different.

When I sacrificed my own seat and my own leggy joy for my husband and sat in the very middle of the entire airplane, I assumed it might be a discomfort that would pass before I knew it. I assumed I would be asleep. That didn't happen. Even when the captain turned the lights off so that all his little duckies could catch a wink as he flew threw the night and over the Atlantic Ocean, even when all those around me snored in unison after their Ambien released its comatose inducing substances into their tummies simultaneously, even when the elegant flight attendant cocked her head in a way that said "Really????" when I handed my red wine glass back to her after declining a refill and then reconsidered based on her professional opinion that I should partake in at least one more drowsy glass of red wine, even after all of that I could not fall into a slumber. I was uncomfortable and staring into a mini television screen a foot away from my face that revolved from a map and flashing, moving airplane (that's us) to Vince Vaughn shouting in Portuguese to a cartoon and so on.

My view

I managed to pass the state of tired into the state of bodily auto-control. Nick reminded me that "At least you're not flying to Australia. You'd still have 15 hours left. Imagine that with a reclined granny on your lap." (His last trip to Australia- and probably the reason it was his last- was disastrous. The seat in front of him had a witchy old lady in it and she lucked up getting a broken seat that reclined REALLY far. Nick was the unlucky passenger. He was seated directly behind her. And what can you do? You can't get snappy on a granny no matter what, right?) He was right. That was a good point. I only had to stay up a little longer. I closed my eyes anyway- hoping sleep would sneak upon me. Instead I got subconscious picture shows of things like two red balloons positioned in a staggered way floating up and past me. Other things that were vivid at the time but more cluttered than the balloons entertained me, but I can't remember them. The balloons were simple. And I saw them again later...

This is the deal. I find that almost my entire adult life the following question has loomed above me: "Where is it in this world that I want to be?" I want to find my perfect place. Ideally, see it ALL and find my place along the way. I have found some that are perfect already, I adore what I have seen of France. And who in the world doesn't think Italy is perfetto? I love certain parts of California. New York City makes me feel alive. And Georgia is "home"- my roots, South Georgia pines to Atlanta's tree top canvas to the Coast's haunting mossy oaks- "home." There's more to see, obviously. But those are my favorites so far.

from our seats at
Portugal's Airport

Nick and I sat at the gate looking out the airport windows and we both knew we were flying to that spot. We sat down on the smaller plane that was going to zip us right over to Switzerland from Portugal and we buckled our seat belts. I said "I hope we love it. Because I have that feeling this is it." I was all-senses-go. I was ready. I didn't know what to expect because I hadn't been to Switzerland, only over it, but I knew I was on my way to my wish come true. Finding my desired home.

This is melodramatic... it may seem I am exaggerating a lot, but I'm not. To me, this was big.

Beside me was a Portuguese man. He was of medium build, had strong and useful hands, and a simple, quiet, friendly demeanor. He ate his meal served to the passengers methodically and carefully, not making a mess with crumbs. He was invisibly chewing... eating like a cat drinks milk. When he turned to us to speak to Nick, after hearing some of our conversation about me being the language dummy, he had almost-hidden passion in his eyes. This tidy man was probably a physical labor worker, one of a trade that takes care but is demanding- like the person that makes a perfect stone wall. This man that so many would look right past spoke 5 languages. Common. Not common for me, not common for my country, but common for those living in countries that aren't gigantic and isolated and forgetful that others have languages too. I wished I retained those languages. He and Nick conversed in Italian, laughing some. And then, this man included me with a separate, universal language. When the plane landed and we rolled down the pavement in our new location he started humming a song that means a very specific thing to me. Fur Elise. Do men normally hum Fur Elise when their plane taxis? Honestly, I didn't think they did and hearing it sent tingles down my spine. This song means one thing. I have an angel. And I think she brought Nick and me together. Her portrait hangs over my (our) bed and I see her and smile everyday. I never met her, but I feel much from her. I think of her when I hear this song. (And after a chilling instance in my house, my friend Arin does too!) Considering the number of times I have looked at that portrait and asked, "Where do I want to be?" this hum was more like 'dong'. I gasped a little meek gasp and looked at him with childlike curiosity and tried to find mutual understanding of what that meant. Silly, because he didn't pay mind to me and kept humming away. But this meant I was getting a sign. This meant "I'm here. I'm giving you sweet signs. You might be right..."

Gotta Go Keep Urban Village. Didn't proof. Don't be mad. I'll tell you where I've landed tomorrow.

City Sights and Late Night Flights

2011-07-27T13:25:00.008-04:00

Trip continued...

New York City- fantastic! We walked the streets, checked out a few stores, ate picture-perfect food, and we sat and absorbed Battery Park on a perfectly temperate and sunny day. Delightful is the word.

Enjoying Battery Park on a perfect NYC day.

Balthazar

To recap- We woke up feeling perky and we got dressed and concluded that my choice of a brunch spot was the winner. Balthazar on Spring Street. I love the atmosphere... and the food is notable too! We caught a cab there because my feet said "no" to that many blocks of walking and in ten minutes we were sitting and observing the cozy, yet bustling energy that really special city restaurants claim. The feeling of walking in off a busy street and being sucked into a comfortable setting of pleasing light, toasty aromas, and the clinking of flatware and glasses is one of my first memories of New York City and I have really held that feeling close to me. I captured it so well that I revisit it frequently. Balthazar grants me that feeling.

We sat at a table that was positioned so that we could see the SoHo streets and its walkers and riders. We could see the booths filled with intriguing socialite type people eating eggs in 'silver cups' with mini spoons, something I adore seeing and refuse to do. I am uber particular about eggs. And I am not fooled by calling something fancy or a delicacy... foie gras is not appealing to me considering that someone force-fed a duck until its liver exploded and they decided to serve it on a porcelain plate and label it special. That's nasty and cruel and shameful. The egg in a cup thing started from people copying English royalty's preferred manner of putting an egg in a cup and "beheading the egg" before eating it with trinket spoons. Louis XV should have recognized he was focused on beheading too much and creating a bit of bad karma. (Actually they found egg cups in the ruins of Pompeii so it must have made sense to them also.) The mirror above these socialite-esque, delicate egg eaters was aged and enormous and tilted downward so that the floor and action of waiters' feet, the daylight streaming through the windows, and even the people like us sitting at tables across the floor were reflected. Nick immediately noted that this effect made him feel dizzy and like he was sitting on a ship. Our waiter, who had only recently started working at the restaurant agreed and said he hadn't yet adjusted to that detail.

Nick and the bread rack.

Not only was that feature of the restaurant worthy of talking about... there was a tall rack of bread on the other side of Nick's head and it was quite difficult for me to focus on his eyes as we were chatting about this and that. It was crusty bread that begged to be clinched and broken and stuffed into a watering mouth to satisfy a starving tummy. Fangs were forming- I was transforming and had to concentrate on remaining seated. Deep down I wanted to hurdle Nick Olympic style and full body thrust myself into the bread rack. I was imagining the loaves falling on me and me tossing them around like movie characters do so annoyingly with money. (I hate that. Who tosses money around on hotel beds? Count that shit and stash it! That's what I'm sayin'.) Luckily for me, and Nick, the waiter returned with cappuccinos and our order was filled and placed at our table soon after. Nick's choice: Omelette with Gruyere and Potatoes. My choice: Roasted Pepper and Caramelized Onion Quiche with Mixed Greens. It was an appropriate start to the day and to our adventure that was going to be jammed full of deliciousness and ambiance.

For me!

For Nick!

For both!

After shopping in the standards like Banana Republic and Anthropologie (where I found the cutest journal- leather free!) we moseyed through Dean & Deluca to admire things like olives, chocolates, and the largest assortment of salt I've seen to date.

Nick perched while I shopped.

Even Aveda made our shopping list as we thought it very important to not discriminate genres- mainstream retail to one of a kind boutique, clothes to food to shampoo. We are equal opportunity shoppers. Hey, we even eyed a SoHo Psychic offering a 10 dollah special and considered it! I took a peek in the door and there she was (the psychic) giving her reading at a round table draped in fabric (she was draped and so was the table) looking exactly as you imagine she would look- sans the crystal ball. I walked out and giggled and we passed the offer. Tempting, but no thanks. I'll stick to John Edwards. Who knows though... she probably has a 100% accuracy rate considering the real estate she keeps! But, I could have told her my future and been correct. I was beginning my trip of dreams and it was going to rock my world! I was going to meet the city I want to live in. I was going to cry happy tears simply because my body, my mind, and my soul was in a location on Earth that offered what they craved. I was going to feed myself, all of myself, all of my senses and relish in every aspect of information I was bringing in being beyond my expectations of what I considered beautiful in life. (That will be 10 dollah please.)

Salt selection at Dean&Deluca.

Later in the afternoon, when we decided it was time to dine again, I sat next to some children eating sushi with chopsticks and enjoyed my mixture of greens and sprouts and all sorts of raw, probiotic goodies I didn't know how to pronounce. It felt like life-giving richness with every bite. Honestly, it was better than chocolate. It met a need for organic, natural foods in my body. The day was going to continue into the next without sleep and I was fueling up on the good stuff. I admired the children by me too. Their habits and healthiness was refreshing compared to so many kids filling up on fast, fried food. I nearly hugged them from pride, but realized how inappropriate that would be and smiled at them instead.

loving life!

After our day on the streets in SoHo and TriBeCa (where we tend to spend our days in NYC and usually stay) we headed back toward our hotel, Marriott Downtown in the financial district and right by the World Trade Center Buildings past and present, stopping to hang out in Battery Park first. Here we yacht gazed, watched frolicking people, playful children, many runners, many dogs and lots of financial people going about their business. We laid on the ground to absorb the weather like the New Yorkers and I played with a flirty butterfly. Who outgrows that? Nobody. When they come a dancin'... join. The butterfly's wing beat is like the human's heart beat. Just ask Deepak Chopra.

Butterfly!

To the hotel. Talk to this one, tip this one. Talk to that one, tip that one. Sit. Retrieve bags, tip for bags. Bag man hands bags to doorman, tip doorman. Doorman hands bags to driver, tip, tip, tip. Better have cash in the USA. Jobs based on tips exist everywhere. And I am a sucker and feel like a grade A ass if I have no cash. That's my rap. Eminem, you can have that paragraph.
(But, I shouldn't have to write these words in a rhythm for him to know it's a rap, right? haha. I'm not afraid. (Hopefully you know I'm semi-quoting him.)

The nicest man drove us to the airport from our hotel. It's often easier to take a car, in this case it was a suv, rather than a taxi to the airport. Especially depending on the time of day. I've experienced the taxi shift change exactly when I needed to get to the airport. Not a good feeling. I finally found an empty cab and the driver broke his rules and took me all the way out to the airport any way. Wouldn't you know that on that occasion my flight was late, then later, then finally cancelled and I had to get another taxi to a hotel. I went back to the SoHo Grand and they presented me with champagne (I think it's standard) since I was checking in so late and getting up so early and had that look on my face. But, I gulped that sucker and walked the streets... they're always awake. I also shared my table during that delay in the airport lounge with a Ford agency make-up artist that was trying to get to Miami. He gave me the scoop on Oil of Olay's huge transformation prior to the marketing campaign. It was interesting. He also told me that jump roping was his biggest beauty secret. All in all, it wasn't a terrible evening. Anyway, we chatted with this driver about how he lived in New Jersey and how he knew no one wanted to live in New Jersey, but the difference in real estate prices isn't a matter of wants for him. He was pleasant and our commute was swift. We exited the vehicle curbside and we were so early we cruised through to the security scare tactic area that I so vocally find absolutely wasteful seeing as it doesn't work- statistically- and only causes paranoia and cancer. Get a couple of dogs and use metal detectors. That will do the job better than these expensive and toxic machines that only fill orders for some Washington homeboy and his company. They use K9s anyway on planes and when they are serious about finding anything. In war they use them, in emergencies they use them. They are the best. They do not discriminate. And they are intimidating. A criminal cannot fool a dog because they sense and reason and use their intuition like a laser beam. Like I said in the entry prior to this that story-line-wise backs up to this one, the lad next to me at the gate found his kitchen knife in his backpack and almost threw up. It was a mistake and here he was, dressed like a gothic punk, sitting on the other side of mostly uneducated, unreasonable, power-tripped-out "officials" that would lock him up for days and probably ruin his entire life with secret asterisks next to his name on his passport. What was he supposed to do now? He went to a police man, not the security man. He tried to find someone who was hopefully trained in dealing with citizens in a respectful and peaceful way. I should've kept up with him to see if he made it to his plane, but I got sidetracked with my own attempt at noise control from airport chaos. Later I will give my international airport/customs review report. Now, I'd like to remain positive, so I'll promptly board the plane with you.

Air Portugal! It was splendid.
The stewardesses and stewards were over-the-top nice. I had forgotten what that felt like on an airplane. They used words like please and thank you very much and welcome. We boarded when our zone was called and I watched Nick's seat-finding anticipation fizzle as we located our row and found.... the middle three seats of the plane... and he has the middle seat! Hahaha. I told him I'd win the aisle seat and I did. I totally made him suffer too. He sat down trying to invent room for his body and trying his best to laugh and not scowl at me. He looked uncomfortable (understatement). Then came the kicker. Another Nick-like, young guy came to our row and confirmed his seat was the one on the other side of Nick's elbow. You should have seen Nick's face when he turned to look at me. He mocked what this guy was thinking aloud to me, "Really? Really? You're going to do that? It's going to be you I sit by and not her? Nice." His sarcastic tone is one of perfection, by the way. I just shook my head as a reply saying, "Yeh, that sucks. I hope you don't fall asleep on him." Both of the guys formed a DaVinci 'V', leaning away from the other so obviously. It was priceless and I made him sweat it out past take off and until I needed to use the restroom. His glee over my offer to sit in the middle was cute. The other guy on my left was nice too. I gave him my chocolate bars that came with our dinner and we were friends from then on.

More distinctions about this flight. Europeans, from my experience in observing them, stand up and socialize on airplanes. They do this and walk around for exercise and laugh and make friends. No one tries to tackle them and demand they sit or else. And not only are the plane employees kind, but they give you wine and encourage many refills at no charge. Then, they give you edible food! I am a fan of Air Portugal. Even though I did not sleep a wink and my feet had stingers in them (something I had never experienced before. ouch!) I liked the flight. Their instructional videos were funny and instead of avoiding cliché's of certain personality types they poked fun at them and exaggerated them to make points while being funny and light hearted. I got the impression that no one was going to file a law suit too- that's a plus.

Sneaking sips from Nico's wine glass.

Fast forward to landing.
Smooth Easy. Clapping all around.
Porto's airport was modern, clean, and hassle-free with pure water dispensers for your enjoyment. Little things like pure water go a long way, don't they?!

This is as far as I got in Portugal, unfortunately. It was a connector.
I sat looking out at the runway and the docked planes with Nick by my side. Neither of us had sleep and neither of us felt really tired. The next stop was our most anticipated of all. I was prepared to fall in love.

First stop- New York City

2011-06-13T20:16:00.002-04:00

All signs point to a perfect journey!

I stood in the line, zeroed in on the cute female "agent" on the other side of the normal scanner. My belongings were on the belt, all rules followed- and barefoot I stood hoping to not be felt up and instead be allowed to simply get to my terminal.
I sit now, safely away from the hazard and non-radiated, non-fondled. The wishing worked. I made it through the check-in and scanning and did so in a time friendly way. Cheerful me.
We have oodles of time before we board the plane. We decided to head out early to avoid any frantic racing to make a flight. Our driver was pleasant and was speedy with delivering us curb side. And gentleman have been helpful by toting my bag for me when they didn't really have to. I tell ya, every single time I've been to New York City I have had the same reaction. I hit the street and my breath draws deep. I feel an internal buzz and sweet vibration. And the love greets me like I have come home. New Yorkers are nice, very nice. And New York is like living in an imagination.

When we got off the train at Penn Station it was still an underground world- far away. I told Nick I felt like we were all little maggots swarming around and making our way around one another in formations that curve and wind. Somehow we all remained mildly courteous as we slowly found holes in the crowd and then sped ahead as if it would matter. When we stepped to the street though, "Hello, New York City!" we walked a few blocks with our baggage to get our legs in motion again.

Coming out of Penn Station.

Can you believe I got out of there with this honkin' bag?

Hailing a cab is an art. I always do it, but it makes me feel dumb and rejected. They pass with passengers already in tow and there I am waving to nobody after all. Then one swoops up and saves me from embarrassment. I feel like friends with the driver immediately because he didn't leave ms hanging. He actually high-5ed me.
Marriott downtown was our spot to relax. I hadn't stayed in this district yet, so it was great. We were right next to the World Trade Center construction/memorial/wreckage site. The new tower is partially up. And there is a lot of anticipation surrounding this unique piece of land. I walked past this once before in January of 2002. I never saw the real deal. Only the aftermath.

I can't say I was prepared for this picture.

New World Trade Center Building well under way.

Dinner was at The Odeum. We were starving! Nicks tuna burger was a success with his belly and I had a goat cheese and greens salad that was incredible.

Odeon for dinner.

We were both set on dessert so after eating real food we walked and found the perfect place. Their apple cobbler and ice cream was served up and devoured in a flash.

Ever since we arrived in New York City we appreciated the weather. Strolling back down the streets of TriBeCa was a perfect way to spend the first night of our much anticipated trip.

Snooze.
6 am... Yeh right.
Snooze.
Up and at 'em for bag check and another day to enjoy NYC. Balthazar is the opening act.
The enormous tilted mirrors on the walls made Nick a tad dizzy at first and the bread stacked above his head made me not only dizzy but I had to retract my fangs and impulse to hurdle him and attack the bread rack. It is a beautiful sight.
Quiche with peppers and caramelized onion and Gruyere cheese and fresh greens for me, cappuccino please. Omelette with herbs and potato home fries for the gentleman. Cappuccino due.
SoHo shop shop.
Ooh, Soho Psychic? Ten dollah?
Pass.
We walked until I had to resort to the havaianas.
Battery Park was pure delight. More later on all of that. I am side-tracked by the slightly gothic lad who is calling his mommy to tell her he just went back to security and turned in a kitchen knife he had found in his bag and when he realized it he freaked out. He was so scared he didn't know whether to go back of not. It's really hard not to eavesdrop.

Journey tracking will continue... I am at airport and am suddenly overcome by all the noise. Crying, talking, ringing, beeping, loud speaker blaring, horn sounding from something. I have to go. I need my hands back. I need to insert my forefingers into my eardrums.

Hugs and smooches.

Here we go, on the move, again!

All Aboard

2011-06-12T14:25:00.005-04:00

I want to share my trip with you.

Here is the first entry of my travel journal that I'm posting:
(Pretty please keep in mind that the only way I could post this was to do so by typing it all in on my iPhone. We all know how autocorrect can bite us in the bum, so just giggle and keep on reading if you don't mind. I'll correct what I see as soon as I have a normal set-up! Oh, good news! Late last night I finally found my lost mouse plug-in! I was ecstatic! Writing operation glitch fixed.)

6.13.2011
I'm on the train, boarded and looking to my right- only vines draping the trees to make a curtain of green foliage. My view straight ahead- the seat back of a grouchy passenger who promptly slammed his seat to its farthest reclining position possible. His head and moppy brown strands of hair tilt to the right. He is trying to sleep with his head mashed to the wall of the train. To my left sits Nicholas Cassini, my husband, in a navy blue and plaid button up Lacoste shirt that looks modern and not dated as plaid so easily can look. He has his earbuds in already. I didn't even notice what was behind me, aside from my seat, until a man just now started coughing. He apparently has an itch in his throat that won't be satisfied.
We sit on row 11 on an Am Trak train in 2011 on June 13.
As the train rolled on its track, aimed north, I got to see the entire station due to the fact that our train car was located all the way at the very front of the train. I know that it is the front of the train though because our seats face South. So the green curtain of foliage is quizzing past us in the opposite direction of typical "forward"motion. I do believe some people get sick at this sort of backward zooming. But, not I. I've done it on a jet too and I thought the blast off was fantastic.
After waving to my parents, who stood outside waving to the train and couldn't see me at all through the tinted glass, we gained speed and are now moving along quickly. I was surprised when I looked up from the page to see that we were going much faster than it felt.

~
I took a sort break to send and receive messages to/from a friend. She is losing her beloved black lab Sadie right now. Her dog- and best friend, as they most often are- is having a very tough time lately and has shown the signs of a dog who knows she will leave soon. I've cried twice and haven't yet fully stopped all this time later. I feel sad Sadie has to leave. I feel awful for Katy, who loves her so much and is expecting first baby in September. And I feel awful about the whole situation in general because I know what that feels like. We lost the brilliant and beautiful charmer, Shakti in February of 2009. It was one of the most painful moments of my entire life and so, to go there mentally and think of Katy and Sadie, it hurts enough to get sick. All the while, I remind myself of my thoughts and beliefs which should take the sadness away and I find I try and share them with my friend, but I also know words can't reach that place to help and I sob like a baby, mascara streaked face and all. Which is why when Nick asks how I can stand it, referring to the gentleman (I use this term loosely) behind me who has gone from coughing his nasty breath past my right ear to snoring so loudly Nick hears it through his movie he's watching and listening to via earbud. My answer to him was, "I need the comic relief."
Oh... I got cobbled on the train...
Two snoozers takin their sleep deprived states out on me in true man-fashion. Big Recline- Big Snore. And I don't care. I'm in row even on a train headed toward the trip of dreams. I'm happy about that. Aside from Ms. Sadie, who I saw on Friday evening and petted and gave a mini massage to as I said bye-bye to her, everything is well- green.
Golf courses, lakes with boats and green lily pads, trees and some kudzu or other rapidly spreading vine.
Onward I go.

~
It's 10:00- spot on.
We are pretty far past the lovely train station in the Richmond area that I admired. It was brick, tall and elegant. It looked as if it had been built during the period of time when train stations were modern hubs and the 'it girl' of the transportation world. I have to note that the coughing "gentleman" behind me has perked up and his energy that he gathered while asleep has turned to chatty babbling with his every acquaintance. It may seem as though I do not care for the passenger behind me, but I find myself liking him okay. For one- as I said earlier, the snoring was just enough to make me laugh while sad over lost pets and more than enough to embarrass him horribly if he were aware of it. He also spoke to me to ask if I thought he could de-board the train, smoke a cigarette, and board once again. This I did not have an answer for, but thought it was mighty kind that he cared for my thoughts about it. When he decided to ask an Am Trak employee he got up, stretched and proclaimed, "Man!! I got some food sleep in!" I nodded and secretly knew that fact all too well.

Oh my goodness!! We just moseyed past the largest lily pad pond I've ever seen and never imagined! It was completely covered with white blooms and it made me gasp. So I reached for my iPhone to take a quick shot and I was too late. Disappointing. It would have been one for the books.

Oh- passenger update.
Sleepy, smash-my-head, grump has changed seats across the aisle. He hS even made uncomfortable eye contact with me. It was when the friendly Indian looking and speaking gentleman,who snatched the seat when grouchy left for the restroom, relieved me of the recline factor on his own accord and the seat slammed forward such force that my coffee, resting on the let-down table topi am writing on, jiggled and almost splashed and bounced off of the surface and on to me. But Nick, acquainted with the various harmful outcomes of the contraptions and their adjacent seats, was quick and grabbed my hot beverage, setting it back down safely. This is when grumpy made eye contact and then hurriedly looked forward again.

Speaking of my coffee- I am reminded of three things I need to tell you about.
1. Norah Jones is on. I grabbed her when the chatty man behind me started telling his "peeps" about how he not-so-accidentally took his roommates cell because he forgot to purchase minutes for his. It's his first time on an Am Track long haul too. I know that from his different conversations. (He is super sweet to his girlfriend, mother of his daughter, but not wife yet, even though his dad , being old-school doesn't dig but is okay with- fortunately.)
Nick looked at me and asked, "Is there anyone on the line?" I cackles at that. It was perfect. This man hadn't given a pause or released the so called conversation one bit for another person to join in and actually qualify it as a conversation. This was a monologue. The way Nick timed the remark to note it almost me cry again but from laughing. He's already held my hand, put his big paw on my leg (which is what he does when I'm so sad and need my hands to cover my face or dry my hands, and he's even asked "do you need to talk about it?" which is the biggest sacrifice a dud can offer right? I said "no thanks" because this isn't really my sadness to claim. It's Katy's. But, Katy being a good friend- the kind of friend who shellacks vanilla beans for your home-made birthday cake and does it twice because the first turn-out wasn't good enough in her opinion- tries to not say anything about her sadness because she wants me to to "viva la Italia". She's that kind of friend. She brought me coffee as I kept the store on Friday because we normally meet for coffee on Fridays. So, she brought it to me instead. And Jennifer, our coffee companion as well, was there too in a way because it's her store. Even though she was actually in Chicago. Anyway, very thoughtful, she is. And with that comes sensitivity. I know she is heartbroken. And I know she will take a while to mend because I'm still mending from Shakti. I can become a dribbling, drooling fool in a second and I grab her photos in frames (in whey room) and kiss her face all the time. Friends like your pup, and friends like Katy- they matter and they make me emotional. So this led me to Norah Jones ( yeh, I did almost forget I was talking about Norah) and her song "Sunrise". This was a soothing choice and when paired with the motion and rumble under me, and the streaks of scenes out my window it is healing on many levels. I send thanks to artists like her. They can make a moment perfect. It's why motion pictures have sound tracks, I presume. It is this invisible but hugely present backdrop with the power to change the tone of others' words or the lighting in which you see the world.
Norah Jones+Train Ride = a dream come true.
One down already!

2. I went to get my coffee in this cafe located at the very opposite end of the train that had previously been a mystery to me. In several ways. The first way was me wanting water and/or coffee and thinking, "how does one find beverages on a train?". The second mystery came in the form of me transporting the water and two coffees back to the seat. I was able to perform this longed for task of walking a train.
"how does Tom Cruise do that? How does John Travolta do that? Can you really walk in between rail cars as the train moves? How do they open the doors? They don't lock when in motion?"
Well, now I know and not only do I know that they do,in fact, open- but I myself have made them open and have walked the line- the jiggling, unsteady line. Me. I did it. With hot coffee and water in my hands b
"Yes!"
Two down!
The mystery, the mission seemingly impossible... No longer. And I did play the Mission Impossible theme song in my head, barely humming it as the doors opened and I was there alone in the limbo of train cars reaching for the next door.

3. By now I can't remember what 3 was, but I'll go with this observation and hope it's the right point. We have passed towns and stations, courses and courts, ponds and pastures- all gorgeous. But one really cool thing to see is the line of traffic that is waiting on us, the train, to roll through their intersection. The line we passed was already snaking with length and the big arms were down holding cars back and I was right next to the big RR stoplights and thee they were... all of the disgruntled car drivers holding their heads up with the palm of their hand, elbow propped on car window sill. I felt their pain and the anguish of having to have patience you don't have time for. (my version of funny) But why I felt more- was my excitement! I have the good kind of anticipation. It is matched with leisure and possibility, almost promise, of relaxation. It is the childish kind of anticipation. When safety is felt and worlds are waiting to be discovered. Hope and marvel sit winking at me from the horizon. And I'm taking my time to meet them. Not racing, but walking and enjoying the view toward them.
Andiamo piano.

ATTENTION ALL AMERICANS: you have been cuffed.

2011-06-03T08:33:00.002-04:00

I have pasted an article below that I feel everyone should be aware of and I'm pretty certain that won't happen until randomly your good-standing citizen of a neighbor is arrested, humiliated, fined, and probably even incarcerated for copyright infringement that was sneaky passed into law in Congress. whew! That was one long sentence...
The way I understand this is that not only will you be a criminal if you post the video that has copyright infringement (which is easier than you think... for instance if Katy Perry's song is playing in the back ground... bam! Copyright Infringement. It is an extensive web.) on YouTube, you will be prosecuted if you embed the video, if more than 10 people view the video, and pretty soon if you share a link to someone else's site.
So, this pretty much means- shutting down the internet. Clever. The legislation is crafted to again- pretend it is designed for protection, but ultimately constrains the public from sharing information.
This means if I find an interesting article or video I can't share it. This will definitely benefit the government mob because showing TSA harassment or police brutality through personal video will be illegal. This has been a thorn in their side for a while and they finally got tricky enough to make it illegal.
In today's world- there is something copyrighted everywhere we look. Even the words we speak have ownership. Are we now going to jail for saying Paris Hilton's very own personal term "Hott"?

Embedding YouTube Videos May Soon Be a Felony

by
Kurt Nimmo
June 2, 2011

Techdirt reports that Senate bill 978 – a bill to amend the criminal penalty provision for criminal infringement of a copyright, and for other purposes – may be used to prosecute people for embedding YouTube videos.

According to Mark Masnick, if a website embeds a YouTube video that is determined to have infringed on copyright and more than 10 people view it on that website, the owner or others associated with the website could face up to five years in prison.

Read Masnick’s article here. He explains how the new law would expand copyright violations from reproducing and distributing to performing – including streaming video over the internet.

As readers of Infowars.com know, many videos are removed from YouTube after copyright owners complain about infringement. This happens with thousands of news clips every year. Most people are familiar with the now common black box replacing a video that says the video has been removed for copyright reasons.

If enacted, this law will go one step further and turn people who embed a copyrighted video into criminals. It will also set the stage to criminalize linking to copyrighted information — like corporate media news sources — and shut down the alternative media.

It will also make people think twice about putting up all kinds of videos, from news reports to clips from documentaries and other educational material.

It does not take a vivid imagination to realize the political implications of this legislation.

So, here is another example of harassment that makes my blood boil:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_iMr76atjUA

I really don't understand why we aren't, as a nation, protesting this. Why? This is happening EVERYWHERE now. You don't have to surf the internet very long to find girls being punched by cops, unprovoked brutality, and now "legal" sexual harassment in airports. These officers, like the ones in this video, make me sick. They are no better than the brown shirts... ready and eager to show their authority over citizens in any way they can. "Show me your I.D." They demand it. What if he didn't have any? Because this isn't the Soviet Union, right? Right? You don't HAVE to carry identification cards with you when you step out of the house, right? Looks like "ever since 9/11 things have changed!" Point proven. The patriot act they point to as their reason to detain this guy for taking a photo is in no way a patriotic thing. Are you a patriot? To whom? Our citizens? Or our system?

I want Congress to answer for this kind of criminality going on everywhere. Why the hell aren't they doing something about it? Unless they are encouraging this, they should be defending our rights as FREE Americans.

Free went out the window.
Vote for Ron Paul. He is the only one defending us.

Why? Well, because...

2011-06-02T09:27:00.002-04:00

When I first saw Claude Monet's Le Pont Japonais it sort-of took my breath away. Something about the strokes, the bridge, the colors took me away in thought and also brought me inward, inviting me into myself. I have thought of this painting as 'life' since my teenage years. This painting, and thought about it, has been a friend to me for a long time.
"Step up close: I'm not perfect. I'm not defined. I'm abstract and confusing and cluttered. It seems I make no sense. The colors that make me are contrasting, dark and deep, then light and glowing. The strokes are harsh here but cleverly rounded there. Step up close and the wish to see more, all of me, grows intense. Up close the search for what I am seems never-ending.
Blink.
Step back: What am I now? I am art. I blend the once disconnected dashes to make this scene you see. I use that dark to highlight this bright. I build a bridge, a pathway, a hopeful place to put foot. Put all of me together and from a distance I not only make sense, I am beautiful in every way. Take only a portion of me and I may not be, but all of me shows wonderment. I may not be finished. I could be added to more and more, but this is where the brush strokes stopped- this is where the paint was put down. It makes me no less precious. I'm perfect just like this- already.
The brush stroke, the breath.
The dark and devastating lending its light to the vibrant.
I make sense from this distance.
I am life.
What is your perspective of me?"
...that's what this painting whispers to me. So, I brought this page into my 'painting' to help with my perspective or to just be imperfect up-close. I hope one day, when I have stepped far away, I can turn around and look back and see something like Le Pont Japonais. This is In My Monet.
I am committed to being as honest as I can with myself. I am committed to putting myself out there. I strive to be forthright and wrong or right, but thinking. And above all, I try to just push the 'publish' button and not treat this as a place to be perfect, but as a place to step forward. For me, this is a bridge to an unknown place. That place is me, my life, and after.
If I can remember this, the moments within can each be a painting unto itself.

... and Back.

2011-05-30T20:43:00.001-04:00

Resuming chit chat...

So, there was a NGA Hooters Tour tournament here at Scotch Hall Preserve Golf Course last week. Before you write that off because of the name of the sponsor you should know- if you don't already- that it's a pretty fierce field of players. It is the 3rd largest professional tour in the United States. On the average course they are able to play, about -20 wins the event. I bet no one is scoffing at Hooters now. I bet your eyes bulged instead. The Hooters have low cut lines.

I'm sorry, that last line requires me to take pause and give applause to the craftiness I just heard in my head. Very nice.

This course was a little bit different for the participants. It is a difficult one. It is beautiful, very hard, and very windy. For instance, on the 3rd day when one player walked off the green and noted to Nick that the wind had changed direction (making the course much easier), he said "This is probably more like normal!" Had it not been competition and completely out of place I would have piped up and inserted a "No, not really." ...that I've never been out there when the wind was so calm. Granted, I don't go out every day, but I sometimes have to lunge and exert serious energy to open and close my car door. Never am I able to carry on in a phone conversation with Nick if he's out on the course. I can't hear him through the static the wind makes. But, that's the charm of the course. Golfers like the challenge. That's redundant. People don't play golf unless they want a never-ending challenge... so golfer kind-of means 'one who torments the self with perpetual challenge and most likely defeat.' The course reminds me of the European Tour events I was able to watch Nick play. They have weather that whips. That's why they do so well when they come to the States. Especially if it's stormy. They are used to it, it seems.

-12 won the 4 day competition. The cut was 6 over. That is NOT normal. That was with typical Scotch Hall Preserve wind.

Now, my sweet and talented Nicholas had one victory and one defeat. His intention was to get the tournament to come to Scotch Hall Preserve, do the work required with rounding up sponsorships and all of that logistical planning, help set up the event to make sure nothing was over-looked, and then play in the tournament too. Sounds brilliant.

... if your Ironman.

I came home from the writer's meetings and subsequent traffic debacle feeling puny and tired. Then, I saw my hubbo. He was about 20 pounds lighter than when I left him and looked ragged. He wasn't sleeping because he kept thinking about what he needed to do from all sorts of different angles for the event and for the other aspects of his job. On Wednesday, I went to the Pro-Am dinner hosted at the course under a tent and realized he was hauling around water coolers with ice and crates of water... different tasks requiring manual labor that he is, of course, up for doing, but when I saw it I also saw disaster ahead. It was like rounding a slight curve on I-85 to see that all the lanes are stopped and DETOUR- ROAD CLOSED is flashing on the electronic billboard. (I'm referencing my Carzy situation.) And like that, I knew there was nothing I could do about it. I asked to help. I assisted and drove trash to the big dumpsters at the back of the property... but that's the extent of what I was able to do to make it better. I imagine it's like mommies feel with their children. They are constantly confronted with the fact that they can do nothing to "make it go away" for the ones they love. That is what golf reminds me of at times. Because, if I were him I would have declined to play. But, he tried to anyway because he said he would. I have never, ever seen him play like he did. I hope he doesn't feel like I'm throwing him under the bus here... but it was bad. Really, really bad. Everyone knew. Nick was out of commission. It was just hard to watch. He even had the red-eye I talk about when he's passing out from fatigue as he walked the course.

From Wednesday to today I have gone out to to see if there is anything I can do to help. I will probably continue to do so until I see him with energy. But, it isn't just him I'm itching to help. It's his entire staff. They are all hard workers and such positive people. The tournament was a success because of all that effort and sweat and smiles. When I asked Nick if he was disappointed, he replied that he was, but that it was his job to make sure everything was in place. That this is how these guys (players) make a living. And if something went wrong because of him, that it would have been the failure on his part, not that he couldn't even resemble the way he normally played. And THAT my friends is the man I am proud of and respect. He hits life's fairway every single time.

I do want him home though, just for a day or two, to stick in a dark cave of a room and close the door, only opening it to give him chamomile tea or pasta. I want him to be dreamy for a good long while.

More on the actual course- It is phenomenal! It is gorgeous and everyone who plays it raves about it- including professional golfers. The guys who maintain the course should walk with their chests bowed out because it is something to boast about. Our friend Brent, who did well and was in the lead group on Sunday, said it best. "This is a hell of a course, man! I'm mentally tired at the end of the day from thinking about the wind and my shots. It's great... Yeh, it's a hard course." Nick replied, "I knew you'd like it." Which he explained why as being- because it's more like a Tour course... meaning PGA Tour, because Brent played out on the PGA Tour.

... and I'm done on the tournament talk. I'm done dee. I shanked it from the tee, I'm in the hazard... my tournament talk is lost.

To talk about a subject that doesn't surround moi, because I know you are sick of hearing it, I will bring up the movie I last saw. No, I won't. Because I last saw Solitary Man. I like the lead-in song by Johnny Cash and I like the lead man, Michael Douglas, but I don't like the thought of writing about that movie. At least right now, anyway. The one before that was Knight and Day. I liked it. Did you like it? 'Cuz I did.

It was over-the-top like Salt, but I liked Salt too. A movie doesn't have to be realistic for me to enjoy unless it is stressing realism throughout the movie. And this most certainly didn't give any pretense that it was completely realistic. I am surprised that I only now watched it. I heard about it when the script was still called Wichita from this friend that shoots on location during filming. He didn't say much except that it was going to be great. And I agree. You know, Tom Cruise may have jumped on Oprah's sofa, but he's great to watch on-screen. I don't care what people say about him, I like watching his films. I think it is amusing when people scoff and say he sucks, can't act, yada, yada. I think that's amusing because he's an icon in the film industry and in between Top Gun and Oprah's sofa people thought he was spectacular across the board. I think when speaking of him in professional terms he's solid, hard to dispute it. He has a distinct style. He is entertaining. He is believable. That goes a long way in acting, no? (insert chuckle here)

Cameron Diaz, well, everyone knows she has chops. No need to discuss. ... And legs. She definitely has legs now doesn't she...

I wish I had more for you, but that's it. It was writers to golfers and now I'm back. Waiting for my husband to join me, but I AM BACK.

Half Way to Carzy

2011-05-29T12:30:00.001-04:00

The funny thing about writing what you think down and pushing the "publish" button is that you are certain all those thoughts will expire and develop into new perspectives and opinions. Then, with a head full of fresh, changed thoughts you read your old then-fresh thoughts and you think "Geez, I don't believe that at all anymore. I was so naive, so short-sighted." Then, if you are like me, you get the shivers because it nauseates you to read the stupid words you produced once upon a time. You wonder, "Should I erase the stupid words?" And then J.Lo answers the question with one catchy Ben Affleck influenced album title This Is Me... Then.

Ownership. Owning dumb thoughts in print is a real downer sometimes. I was the person I now growl at... it's there, right in front of me to see and read. I still don't delete it. And it is because of the same reason J.Lo held her head high after each boyfriend transformation. It only matters if it is the only thing anyone ever reads. Life is a progression. To be truthful, the change I see in my thoughts makes me proud. I think being a learner for life is a badge. I don't want to think and believe the same things in twenty years as I do now. For one thing, the world changes and won't allow it. That must be for a reason right? Everything changes, so my thoughts must change too. That's the way it rolls. And I don't want to be stuck. So, if I have to read ridiculous statements from the past to remind myself of the precious value of learning, then so be it.

It still is embarrassing, though.

Things have been busy lately. I went to Atlanta for a Writer's Conference. I spent time with family (not enough). And the entire week since I've been back has been jammed full of golf tournament madness. Would you like me to elaborate? Because I will. No problem.

I'll start at the Writer's Conference. I must confess that it was my first function of the sort. I will put it as my professor did when he asked me, "Are you a joiner? You're not a joiner are you?" My response was a quick "No." He said, "I'm not either."

I don't like to bind myself to big groups of people. When you are associated with a group and in the group are people that don't represent you in any way whatsoever, it is troubling. I hate it. I did join a sorority in college. But, I remember during RUSH that the reason I picked the sorority I did was because there seemed to be no clones in the bunch. There were all sorts of girls and they got along. It seemed like a group of individuals and not a bunch of mimicking gals that you feel like you never get to know because they never show anyone their true self. So, (and I was a Kappa Delta) I loved my girlies. The whole variety. I still do.

-I'm really having to focus right now to stay on point.-

The Writer's Conference was quality. Very interesting.

I only registered for a 3 hour seminar and to attend a panel Q&A due to the timing of when I signed up for the event. But, it was productive and I met a few wonderful people.

Can I be completely honest?

Yes.

Okay. I had an odd realization during the event and that was: I related more to the agents than the writers. I didn't expect it. I didn't know what to expect but this certainly wasn't the outcome I imagined.

For instance, (and this is excluding the few wonderful people I noted earlier) I witnessed grown individuals acting absurdly desperate and rabid. One guy cornered an agent, a strikingly beautiful and expecting lady. It was late, she looked like she wanted to call it a night and this guy kept leaning over her speaking intensely while invading her personal space so much that she had to continuously step back. She got out of the conversation just in time. She was about four steps from hitting the escalator! There were several conversations going on similar to this and I was moaning inside because it was painful to watch.

During the panel discussion I experienced a similar thing. Complete invasion of space and a conversation I could NOT get out of no matter how hard I tried. I thought "Where is your third person point of view now? Don't you see yourself from above? You are acting like a lunatic."

To sum it up... It was positive. I met a few writers that were sweet and interesting. I met a couple of agents that were fantastic and helpful, one being a contact I can rely on in the near future. I attended a couple of informative sessions led by agents in the know. But, the urge to donky-kong-bonk some agent-cornering writers and sweep some of these agents up and take them to safe space was still present throughout.

These eager writers aren't the only people that morph uncontrollably when confronted with people they consider special. I've seen grown men giggle and squeal, run behind a tree and make an inappropriate call to a friend during a golf tournament... I repeat DURING A GOLF TOURNAMENT, right by the green, where golfers were trying to putt, to say that he just saw Kevin Costner and was acknowledged by a hand gesture. It was a celebrity pro-am. Nick was playing behind Kevin Costner, which meant slow play, because so many people want a little piece of personal entertainment and Kevin Costner is nice and obliges them. The men especially were ga-ga over it. A joke didn't even have to be funny and they were pouring with laughter over the words.

It's all really weird to watch.

Happens every time.

Next is the car ride home... during which I went half-way to insane and back. I call that going Carzy. Do you get it? Like crazy but CARzy... pretty funny, huh? I played with my relatively new iphone and video recorded some of the drive. I have always been a driver that, when going solo, acts absurd. The longer the trip, the more absurd I get. So, as I-85 was detoured off the interstate due to the entire road being closed, I decided I should see what the absurdness looked like in case I needed to change it immediately. At the beginning, I was conscious of myself. Then, as traffic worsened I forgot more and more about the video and there I went... just being me... ridiculous. I have five stages of Carzy. I showed stage two to my parents and sister. It was SO long that I had to load it on YouTube because I couldn't email it and when I called her a few days ago I heard her kids in the background making fun of me and laughing. Which made it all okay. I sacrifice pride for the sake of their laughter. It took me 11.5 hours to get home and I was initially on track for 8, having made superb time in the first part of the trip. By the end of the night I was listening to Michael Jackson and talking about how my grandmother's name was Billie Jean and that that was probably the coolest thing I'd ever heard of. Yep. Then I said I got turned around because I started going Weast. Stages 3,4,and 5 are staying in my pocket!

I'm not done, I still have golf tournament chit-chat, but it just so happens that I have to go TO the tournament now. I need to help my husband who has been working day and night and forgoing sleep to make sure it is a success. So, I am going out too. It is the first day I didn't start out on the course... but, i.m.m... you are important. And I am often neglectful of you. So, I'm splitting my day for two duties.

... I'll be back.

sneak peek

2011-05-09T14:12:00.002-04:00

Clearly, she sees what the world intends to be. But what she seeks, the clarity she searches for, is just beyond her vision.

Can she wipe her eyes; can she scrape a layer of haze away and it reveal the one she hopes to rest her eyes upon?

Or, is it forever disguised as a possibility and in fact a never-ending tease?

Hope can only hold her for so long.

With nowhere to turn for an answer of any kind, she desperately clinches her belief that she can't be wrong. In a world where truth is a constant illusory mirage of a destination, it feels that her course is limited anyway, in the attempt to find what exists in a real- not practical, not proven, not pragmatic way, but in a purely relevant, revelatory, and renascent way. Real is the word she searches for.

Real is the word she defeats and defies, as is.

Real is more than a word.

Real is more than a world.

Real is .

What exactly?

She searches on, with hope and with fervor and with the resourcefulness she was born with as a compass and shield. The sky's code must be broken. And the air must be opened, like a curtain call- show the cast and crew hidden backstage helping to produce the show called life.

"I spare my props, I shed my costume, I throw my lines to the side. My character is bare."

She declares.

She cares not about the applause from this audience that could be imaginary. And she dismisses the hisses they call out. They are ghosts of a bad dream.

Bum, bum, bumbum-

Drum rolls and drum beats-

Reveal-

Real.

We meet.

...Just a sneak peek. An excerpt. Please, please tell me your thoughts. :)

ifinally write

2011-05-03T23:32:00.005-04:00

I have lost a crucial component to my writing operation. The mouse is without. It sits beside me motionless and with no green light indicating the link to my laptop is a solid one. The last time I updated this blog I wrote about scary weather creeping our way. It wasn't creeping actually. I think this is how they started using these expressive words- "It came storming through." or "He came thundering down the hall." The weather charged us and having seen examples of the potential whip lash that could be ours too without taking precaution, we all picked our closets (I'm speaking for the entire town.) I gathered my laptop, cleared the small guest room closet out completely, put a pillow in the floor, and sat in it. One by one my pups came. China crawled on my lap. She had screamed already. I am not misprinting that... it is a scream, not a bark. She was seeking comfort and wanted safe keeping. Then Selma Lu (my other lap dog, ha!) came in and fit in the left over space. Honey Te'a is still learning our ways so she sat outside of the closet looking at us intently but with her own elbow room. And then, Nick came home... he drove through that whipping mess... and sat in the floor looking at all of his ladies huddled in a tiny closet. It blew over. Then I had to clean up the room and fit everything back into that tiny closet. To make this all relevant to the lifeless mouse on my desk top- I snatched the usb remote plug-in thingy out of my laptop, not caring about it beyond thinking "Do I need this? No. I don't care too much about it. I just won't lose it. I'll lay it here." I remember the thoughts. I don't remember the place I put it in order to not lose it. I hide things so well sometimes that I can't even find them. Mostly in haste does that happen.

Now, I care about it.

It will come to me... things always find their way back.

Since the storm, I have watched a couple of movies. Due Date was one of them. I rented two from RedBox- Black Swan and Due Date. We watched Black Swan first and when Nick picked it to put in the dvd player I remarked, "You know Nick, that's one thing I really appreciate about you. You picked Black Swan over Due Date to watch first." Then I reminded him of what Due Date was and he responded "Oh... shit." He was mildly disappointed that he passed over the funny movie, the "guy flick". So I, of course, said "Switch it. I don't care which we watch first." And he did not. We watched it and we both liked it better (much better) than the comedy. Due Date was pretty good but like Nick said when I asked what happened to a dropped off character, "I think they said, "Umm, we need to end this. Done." I'll admit that I did go upstairs and leave the ending unattended. That was not polite of me. Could I have guessed the ending? Yes. Did I guess the ending? Yes. But it was, no doubt, funny.

Next, we watched a two part documentary about the Russian Revolution and it brought to light a subplot so-to-speak. It was a story within that large tragic story that I hadn't heard. It was about the Kronstadt sailors. They revolted, gained their freedom, handed it over to another tyrant, wanted it back, and then got killed by the Bolshevicks. That's basically it. A massive generalization of what went down, but do you want to hear me yap about that? No. I can guess you don't. Because I begin yapping about my feelings about anything less than pure, undiluted freedom and I get a bit ferocious and then I don't mind slinging a few insults- soft ones I think- just jabs here and there- and I don't make any new friends. I might lose some. (At this point in my life, that's okay with me. I want my principles in tact over my popularity.) You never know, it could deliver a friend or two. I have friends now that see things like I do, from the same point of view. They talk about it. They don't mind discussing. Regardless, I will not explain further the documentary.

Then, we started watching Gandhi. I looked over and Nick was shut-eye. As soon as I pushed play his head went down. When he is tired and his eyes shut, if I wake him and he opens his eyes to look at me, they are so red. It's as if he were sleep deprived for ages and is out of focus with blood shot eyeballs. It strikes me as a curious thing every time I wake him. I did that the other night when I got a text that Osama bin Laden was dead after we were already in bed and Nick was asleep. I, as gently as I could, stirred him and read the words. He muttered something and then he rolled back over into his sleep again. I think my face displayed several consecutive expressions as I contemplated and had a few thoughts about it. I leaned over, turned the lamp off, and went to sleep. First things first- wait. Several stories and retracted stories will come out and then at the end of the day, nobody will ever know the exact truth of what happened. Even the ones in the location at the time won't know the entire sequence of events start to finish. It's such a large-scale start to... wait. Was I about to say FINISH? I'm sorry. I apologize. It most certainly isn't finished now is it?! One person is dead, but before that heaps of bodies fell and it appears they still are and still will be falling with no end in sight. Cheering and chanting in streets like the opposition did ten years ago is not my M.O. There's nothing to celebrate in war until it ends. And even then, it is relief not celebration. Anyway, this relationship between MidEast and West has been going on for a long, long time. You saw it with Carter. You saw it before Carter. Even I remember it in elementary school with daddy Bush. It is here today. On and on and on... That's the reaction that came from the two of us. We rolled over and went to sleep knowing nothing really changed. It's a machine in motion. Wag the dog. All of that. Nothing reported is reality. As John Mayer says- "And when you trust your television, What you get is what you got, Cause when they own the information, oh They can bend it all they want."........ At that sleepy moment Nick gathered what I said, but the eyes were in some sort of repair again, red as fire and bright blue in the middle. It's kind-of freaky looking.

Gandhi will be watched tomorrow evening. I already liked it. Before I realized Nick was unconscious I enjoyed the sidewalk scene. "There is room for us all." I love him and his words. It is such an abstract paragraph up there. To have mentioned Gandhi and bin Laden in the same paragraph is disorienting.

I have continued reading my books- The Crooked Timber of Humanity and Night of Stone. I read the latter aloud to Nick in bed and guess what I got three pages in... the red-eye.

It was horrible though. (The book is great. What happened is horrible.) I will pick different material to read just before bed. It is descriptive and the subject matter is Stalin's (Lenin's possibly worse successor) grotesque and barbaric reign. What a murderous s.o.b. It is not human. He and those like him are creatures that have none of the humanity I know of on the Earth. They are compositions of something far darker and loathsome. You could see it in his eyes. His eyes say it all. The eyes always do. I'm learning a lot of new things about the Russian history and the world's- including U.S.- part in it all. They consistently traded one tyrant for another. There was always a mad-man ready and waiting. I'm going to try and write about it later when I've gathered more from my reading. I think any and everybody I know would be interested.

It has been a John Mayer night. I enjoy it. It is playing now and I dig it. Nick selected the tunes and he was spot on. Each song provoked a thought.

"Why Georgia?" I want to know. Why? Am I living it right?

How about: "We're never gonna win the world, We're never gonna stop the war, We're never gonna beat this, If belief is what we're fighting for." Indeed. Indeed.

"My dear, we're slow dancing in a burning room." Such a beautiful description of a complex relationship. These lyrics choke me, "How dare you say it's nothing to me. Baby, you're the only light I ever saw."

And of course, "There is no such thing as the real world." Tru dat, homey. When I first met the "real world" I was astonished that there was no other layer in the back of what I was seeing. "This is it?" I thought. I couldn't believe that the systems and components (people) of those systems is what was moving and shaking the world. No magical potion. No wizard or genius that comes with adults in the business world. It was a shock. It was scary. I'd always assumed that there were supremely intellectual and creative leaders pushing things forward in a seamless, perfect manner and if one could not meet the highest of standards, they failed short of the cut line and were ousted. In other words, I thought the business world was like athletics. I thought it was a solid performance, judgement, excel or pick another kind of operation... this "real world." Disheartening. It is smoke and mirrors. It is fake-it. It is get by and/or put the time in... or just lie to get ahead. Sell yourself and you'll get the job, doesn't always matter if it's true or if you can do the job. Once you get it- delegate. Pass it off. I kept thinking "Who is actually doing the work?" My answer was the one person in the group who can't let the project fail so they do whatever they have to and then they end up resentful and full of stress in the body and the jokers that take the credit and talk a big game gallivant around as if they matter so much in the world and at the end of the day... they are the ones stress-free with a healthy body and bank account. That "real world" was disappointing. (He's right. There's no such thing.) It rewards doing nothing, abandoning morals and ethics, and being the sort of sorry person that your grandmother would be ashamed to claim. I'm not on that corporate ladder. It is hard to live doing something that, in your life, doesn't matter. If you can't see the contribution of your efforts being purposeful or positive it is so hard to wake in the morning and bust booty doing it over and over and gathering the resentment that goes with being the one who DOES it. I am lucky, I realize. I have a husband who appreciates what I do. He also takes care of me. I don't have worries because my husband makes it so. It brings a tear to my eye as I type that. He is my strong, insightful, hunk of a man. He suggested I could, if I wanted, jump off the Corporation Station-bound train and I hopped while it was moving, rolled in the long grass, and jumped on my horse to ride into the sunset of a blissful horizon.

Luckily, I have experiences that were better than many I hear about. I had pretty sweet jobs. But, I looked around and saw the grime. It was the world of Busting A** To Do Nothing Really Important In The Life Of The 'Buster'. Every morning take your ticket. Hope your number is not called and you are the one spoken of on the traffic report's fatal wreckage site to avoid. An ant in the scurry racing to gather for the queen. Then, a skipping, humming kid comes and steps on your ant hill. Over. I didn't want that for my life.

It was really nice when he toured playing golf. It was intense at times, but the new places, new faces, new course to walk across the country was something that felt special. And the friends I made were special too. Even if we don't speak often, there is a bond that comes with traveling and grinding week to week while everyone else in your life thinks your husband tinkers around on weekends! It is unique because it can make you want to collapse, but it also feels too special to complain about. So, everyone out there has one another, who knows in an unspoken way what you mean when you make references here and there about issues that remain hidden to the typical golf tour profile.

We got new neighbors! I'm super-pumped because they look normal. Young, normal people we might become friends with anywhere. It is exciting. Normalville (as my friend Katy calls it) doesn't send many new people here.

They even have a rescued dog that likes to play in the field.

Cinco de Mayo is coming... many funny stories to follow. The second annual Flip Cup tournament is sure to resume. We get rowdy and firey. I'll try and take photos to post.... with my new iphone!!! As I posted to facebook, "ifinally!!!" I have joined the rest of the world and it feels good I must say. I have the cutest Kate Spade, Dancing Couple artsy case for it too. I'm crushing on my new gadget.

What else is there... not sure. I'm set for now. Katy brought me Silk- French Vanilla Creamer back from Charlotte and so I am cheerful about tomorrow morning. Nico is "La, La, La, La." downstairs with Jason Mraz. He sings along and he's good. Ya know, I'm not going to try and think of everything I have to say... I'll just come back later. I'll do the same as my new voicemail "Hey. This is Beth. Leave me a message or just call me back." I was leaning toward the just call me back option. Although, Nick called me laughing at me and my message. "What do you mean? Hang up and call right back?" "No! Later. Call later." I said. (Duh.) And then he told me I didn't say that part... like it was so crucial that one wouldn't know what I meant. That was my second attempt too. The first one I botched and then started talking to myself aloud and the recording didn't stop so it was all on greeting message. My third try was a success. I think so anyway. It's staying regardless.

Until Later.

Okaaay... before I REALLY go I have to share this video that my bro-in-law posted. It is one of the best voice overs ever! I laugh every time I watch it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nGeKSiCQkPw

The Shizit

2011-04-28T16:34:00.004-04:00

The weather is foreboding outside my windows. Remembering the videos I saw of mile-wide tornadoes in Alabama makes it so. Wind is whipping and the branches are bending. There is lots of howling going on on the other side of the window pane.

I have two cravings lately. The first is for cauliflower. It's on my mind. I should probably just give it to myself... but that would mean I had to go into the market here... which is a Food Lion... and images of employees bleaching meat in the back have recently re-emerged. When was that expose? The 1990s? Yuck. So, I have been holding out on purchasing food. I have a stocked pantry and fridge/freezer. That will do.

The other craving is Maroon 5. I have been waking up to them lately. Particularly 'Never Gonna Leave This Bed'. And that is pretty funny because it makes me want to stay in the bed and never leave the bed. I like the bed. I am not one of those people that have an issue with sleeping, falling asleep, sitting still, napping... I can do it! And I love doing it! I like wrapping up in the cool sheets and letting my body heat warm them to form a cozy cocoon. I like the air in the room to be chilly so I feel even more snugly and special in my warm space beneath the fluffiness my duvet creates. I am not an adrenaline junkie. I like to sit still and absorb thoughts. I like observing art. I especially like observing exceptional art and performances.. like Black Swan, which I just watched the other day and am still enjoying the thought of it. I love it. It was a simple story that was turned into just what human beings are... complex, mental, emotional creatures that have the ability of creating something gloriously beautiful while they, at the same time, eff everything in their life up!

(When I write eff that is a stand-in for a cuss word that I'm sure you can figure out and probably use. I am using the substitute because I realize that not everyone lives with an Italian. In our house that word is like a term of affection. "Get the eff outta here!!" "What the eff is that?" You see, this word makes those sentences sweeter somehow in this house. If they are left out then that means to take the tone seriously and one of us is probably mad. You should hear Nick's older brother that looks and acts totally Hollywood or Rocker. He could probably do anything and pull it off, but he cusses almost every other word... and it sounds fabulous and hysterical.)

Back to subject... My favorite type of movie is something that challenges me to think from my seat and sweeps me into the plot on screen at the same time. I like to be engaged and to watch an interactive film. To watch just entertainment can be okay, but it is boring mostly. If I want to laugh it can be refreshing to relax and let someone else do all the thinking... no that's a lie. I hate that. I hate stupid comedy. I actually hate class clowns and people that MUST be funny at all times because they depend on the laugh they get in return. I hate feeling obliged to laugh at their joke (or sarcasm) that isn't funny, but I must "ha,ha,ha" anyway to fill that awkward void hanging in the air between bodies. As far as professionals go- Jim Carey is the most confusing to me. I can laugh so hard at him or be really annoyed by how silly and forced he's acting. My favorite types of funny are... situational (Ben Stiller is so great at this. He gets himself into such uncomfortable situations that I have to make myself NOT leave the room because I can't bare to see the embarrassment on screen! Love that.) or witty (Comments that are snappy and require a thinking, sharp individual to produce them. Ya know, not just a fart. Please quit writing farts for laughs unless it's an out-of-this-world crazy place and time to fart. I do hate the word fart. But, that's the way it is written to be funny because it's crude and crude gets laughs, right? I prefer toot. It's much cuter and is the only acceptable version of the word when describing little girl toddlers who produce such. I think Vince Vaughn can be very witty. And he talks so fast and has that quirky laugh that cracks me up.) or dark (I like dry and dark funny people. I'm at a blank here for a really good example but I guess I'll throw in John Malkovich or Kevin Spacey. They are funny and can be very dark, even sinister, while they make you giggle.) humor. I guess that says a lot about my personality. For instance, in movie theaters I laugh at off-beats. My dad says I always have, even when little. I used to laugh at strange things and it was noticeable because the theater was so quiet and there was my laugh... alone in the darkness. But, every single time, my dad's laugh followed mine. Because, he thought it was funny that I thought something was funny and was laughing when no one else was. So he laughed at that. I did that the other day when watching The Tourist with friends. All the Russian gangsters hit the floor, shot dead in slow motion through huge glass windows from an across-the-street stake out. And standing very beautifully, unscathed and in love are Angelina and Johnny. Hahaha. That's so funny. It was mostly the way it was shot. It was so over the top dramatic and of course we know how it's going to play out so I thought the director was attempting to make it sort-of comedic. It was a comedy, right? ;) I think I've already written that. It wasn't long ago so it's fresh on my mind.

Oh my gosh, do you know what other thing is blistering me when watching movies and television. It is the dumbed-down, obvious, cliche' lines writers insert to make some political point about their opposing party. Give us all a break! Please! We're begging. I mean, these are mostly liberal/Democratic jabs at the conservative/Republican party. We all get that. But, really, when one character describes a generous act of kindness from Joe-Blow and the other character says "But, he's a Republican!" with astonishment... or the villan is always a Republican, or Bree from Desperate Housewives doesn't even like to have sex... why? Oh, yeh, because "I'm a Republican!! Gasp!". Boring. Writers, heads up, this tactic is boring the EFF out of America. Especially the ones I know. It has worked before, that's why it keeps on coming, episode after episode after episode. Unfortunately celebrity and Hollywood is so craved that America doesn't draw the line between Smoke and Mirrors Bullshit and Real Life Importance. Wanna be cool? Be a Democrat. Wanna be a dud? Be a Republican. Or visa versa. Are you cooky? You must be a Democrat. Are you sensible? You must be a Republican. It's so absurd. But here's my chance to voice my opinion. "Eh, hem... America (especially the Americans I know) is sick of the Party Food Fight in the cafeteria of the Political Elementary School you all attend! The I'm a Republican/ I'm a Democrat game is OLD. You are both the exact same asshole. What has ever really changed with either of you. You have both royally EFFED up our country. I vote you all out. Get out. Gosh, I wish I made the rules for a day. I'd elect Ron Paul and we may have a chance to survive this mess these old geezers have created for us. At this point I feel that if we do not elect Ron Paul- a representative that actually reads, and follows the Constitution (what a concept!)- we get what we deserve. And that will be a whole bunch of ugliness. For instance, if this country was as infatuated with a looker and an orator back in the day as we are now... Thomas Jefferson would never have been elected to much of anything. Why? Because he didn't like speaking. He was a thinker, not merely a speaker (or reader). I want America to quit blinking and breathing and remaining oblivious to a lot of news that is in our face (like the dollar- it's collapsing) and elect an actual person who is consistent, who is not a hypocrite (a Washington rarity) and who doesn't make up all the ideas as he goes. Instead, he reads the Constitution. If you vote according to Hannity... I feel sorry for us all. He can't even win a debate on his own show. He repeats himself like a parrot. "Here's my 1,2,3 points I say over and over as I count them on my 1,2,3 fingers! Then I throw a Nerf ball off stage like a dork!" I'd put up with that ridiculous sign off he was even half-way worth listening to. But, I gag when I hear him now. And that's all over FOX. And CNN too. Has beens. It's been revealed that baby-boomers may be hanging on to their news channels, but the new generations have caught on. We get that you are big corporations. We get that you are a business. You have an agenda. You are not the NEWS. We go to other reliable and unbiased sources. (I'd be happy to suggest some if anyone is interested.) Ask around. Ask a thirty-something if they believe an ounce of what CNN or Fox reports. Nada. That will be the answer. Thank God for that.

I'm typically tolerant and don't push my "Vote for..." on anybody. But, I'm over that. I'm screaming it this time around. There are a lot of people that don't like to look stuff up, and instead of hoping they do, I'm going to say what I think to them. Maybe, just maybe, they want to hear it. We are at the point as a nation where we can't afford to make mistakes.

Fox will bash Ron Paul because he's not a Fascist and CNN will bash Ron Paul because he's not a Communist. And that's why I like him. He's what we're supposed to be as Americans- a follower of our Constitution.

And quite frankly- neither children, excuse me, neither Republicans nor Democrats have a solid, substantial, sensible argument against him. Why? Because he follows our Constitution and doesn't act as dictator, making rules up as he goes and having us all pay the price for it.

Do you know what Bush said about the Constitution? That it was "just a piece of paper." All of you Bush lovers hate me right now. But, he did his part to ruin this country and take our liberties and he made everyone think it was for their own good. He made everyone think being a Patriot is to give away your freedom. (And Obama is on the same track. He's made absolutely nothing better. Has he? What can anybody think of that is a truth and not a lie or a skewed statistic politically implanted to mislead? Obama is Bush on steroids. They both are on a fast track of "Crash and Burn America".)

"If freedom means not having liberties, then I'm okay with that." That's an actual comment from a stupid by-stander who drank the Kool-Aid. Isn't it amazing how propoganda works? Well, I'm not cool with that. I'm not cool with many, many things that the Patriot Act makes law & strips from Americans. Thomas Jefferson would fight these Patriot Act-pushers. He would. No doubt. He would fight the Federal Reserve and he would fight the Patriot Act. And Thomas Jefferson is, well, probably this country's hero if we had to name one person. I'm sick of losers off the street, unqualified individuals, becoming TSA officers and reserving the right to fondle Americans or view them completely naked... meanwhile the machine used is not effective at what it is proclaimed to do. (Maybe we should follow that money trail too... you guessed it! Michael Chertoff, former Secretary of Homeland Security and co-author of the Patriot Act and an advocate for body scanners. Not only was he an advocate for them, he purchased them while in his position. Now guess who gets paid for them. Drum Roll... Michael Chertoff!! Rapid Scan Systems is a client of his consulting firm, The Chertoff Group. Lined pockets my friends. That is what 'We the People' really means- 'Line my Pockets'.) That is not acceptable. I'm not cool with the government's ability to track my every call, text, email, location from my cell phone and it remain stored for them to tap into at any time they choose. I am not cool with the new questions they are asking "the selected Americans" when passports are requested. I am not lying to you... one of them is "Are you circumcised?"... Is that okay with you all? Or is it okay with you if it doesn't affect you directly at the moment? Is it okay with you if get to keep watching American Idol and slurping on aspartame (another scam that was illegal until Donald Rumsfeld pushed it through to line his own pockets)? Because if it was you or your kid, my bet is on it NOT being cool with you. The list of examples of jaw-dropping laws goes on and on. It is probably why my muscles are in knots. I read these FACTS that most Americans don't have a clue about (because CNN or FOX didn't feature them) and get super-duper tense.

Breathe.

I am going to sum it up and not take this to a new level with a rant-a-thon.

Vote Ron Paul.

In baby boomer lingo "He's a Patriot."

In thirty-something lingo "He's the only one who's saving your ass from absolute disaster."

In I-am-just-legal-to-vote lingo "He's the shizit."

Speaking of shizit...

I have realized a new personal protection device and strategy. As I walk my 3 dogs I often daydream. Recently, I thought about what would happen to an attacker if they approached me. I thought, My dogs would be a deterrent. China will scream and probably bite them. Selma can do whatever she wants to them because she's a massive muscle and I hope she would choose to eat them. And Honey Te'a would chase them and it would be her choice if she caught them or not because she is quick like lightning. And me? What would I do? It's genius really. I am a responsible dog-owner which means I have about two pounds of dog dung in a plastic bag, knotted and hanging from my hand until I reach a trash can (And there's always more where that came from! I have three producers.). I bet it would be a surprise to any ill-intender if I slung it around old-lady-bag style and whacked them right in the face with it. It's such a positive to a negative thing. Two negative things: the ill-intender and the poop I have to tote. Think about it... squished poop on the face... the smell alone would stop them in their tracks. I am packin' heat and didn't even know it!!

Oh my gosh, I have to go, I've been at this too long. I'm sure there is more to say, like to figure out who made up the word shizit... was it Snoop? Mr. Snoop Doggie Dogg. Smooooth talkin' Snoop. Ugh, I'm delirious all of a sudden.

I'm going to go eat some gnocchi and relax from the political frustration I have induced on myself. You'll hear from me though. Because earlier in the week I was reminded of some great Thomas Jefferson quotes and I thought that I would post them every now and then. They are interesting and I love Thomas Jefferson. I do.

Oh, I promised a friend I'd keep up the chat about music. Lately, I have listened to this song repeatedly 'Big Jet Plane' (acoustic) by Angus and Julia Stone. It is lovely. Here it is. I am including my favorite version, the acoustic version, first and then the official music video next.

Acoustic

Official Video

And Nick gave me a nice surprise after I kept the boutique on Tuesday. I came home and he had dinner ready and Jane's Addiction playing. There was some head banging at our table. Revisit Jane's Addiction if you haven't listened to them lately. Here's one I really like- "Stop". And I LOVED Nick's performance of it complete with the Spanish introduction. To me, he is ultra sexy when speaking languages I don't know. Especially while I eat pasta he made for me.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZwI02OHtZTg&feature=related

Click on it... I had issues...

Tornado warnings here... gotta go.

This week's highlights...

2011-04-22T14:50:00.001-04:00

Why is basil so impossible for me? My husband calls me The Great Basil Killer. He jinxed me. Now, I can't keep it alive or fresh for more than a day. It's very upsetting considering I view basil as a simple but fine luxury in my life. Caprese sandwich, mmm. Pizza Margherita, oh my heavens. Pesto linguini with toasted pine nuts and cherry tomatoes, my eyes just rolled back in my head. Delicious. Basil, oh basil, please be my friend again.

This week has turned into a nature camp for me. I have saved two baby turtles, conducted a funeral ceremony for a frog who had stretched out in prayer position and died (I returned him to the pond and he floated on his back with his little frog fingers clasped together like "namaste" while the big tadpoles swam below the surface.), I saw a snake, spoke to a man who petted a snake (no joke), saw a beaver, transplanted snails, watched the birds, scared yelping bullfrogs that kerplunked into the creek to hide from me, and marveled as a bunny rabbit ran away from one dog, skidded right by my three- luckily on leashes- and into the woods again. Oh, and I dodged the five million squirrels that live in Edenton. It has been an impressive exhibition.

Yesterday, I spent a portion of my afternoon baby-sitting my little pal Henry. He's not quite a year and a half old. He slept until the very end and then we had shake-your-maraca dance party. His mommy pulled up and once he saw her it was Bye-Bye Beth. This little lad loves his mama.

Excuse me... sorry, I was just interrupted by a call from someone who got my name and number from a hotel registration and was telling me in a frantic way about a right-this-second promotional vacation. I'm so over it. "Really, give me your website, or email address, or phone number and I'll get back to you." "Oh, no ma'am, we can't do that because if you call in two hours we won't be here. I can't let you off the line because it's a secure connection and we'll be liable. Blah, blah, blah." I don't buy your sense of urgency madam. I don't believe you called me from out of the blue to give me a fantastic vacation. Are these people really calling our cell phones now? Give me the no-call list again, sign me up.

Back to yesterday. So, as my friend's children played throughout her house, she and I talked and on occasion were entertained by Henry. He let us look in the trunk of his push-truck. Wow. There is an eclectic mind at work. Toys and jelly balls with tenticles, yes, but also in the mix- remote controls and child-safe bottles he asked for, and no telling what else. He apparently finds must-have items all around the house and packs them in his trunk to take on his trips to the various rooms. I asked, "So, when your missing things, do you head straight for Henry's truck?" "Yep." It's so fun to observe tots. They are full of wonderment and inventiveness.

Mark my words, this friend and I will take an exotic trip together some day. I can see it. Eating, dancing, hiking, exploring cities, wrapping ourselves in exquisite silks... watching street artists, the whole bit.

As you all know, a horrible storm passed through the southern United States last weekend. It was on our anniversary, actually. (So was the Virginia Tech school shooting in 2007. Very sad.) We watched Hereafter, an interesting but predictable and slow-paced movie that opened with a natural disaster, a tsunami. At that moment in time, a natural disaster was in action about 10 miles from our sofa wrecking lives all over Bertie County, Chowan's neighboring county. The aftermath is devastating. There were many fatalities and the destruction is widespread. I feel that there are many helpers coming forth though from all around and things will get better for these people and their families. I hope so. Bertie County was hit by a flood not too long ago. And from what I hear, that was on the heels of another flood. Maybe, there will be a nice, long break from disaster for these exhausted communities.

As a celebration for our anniversary Nick and I went to a Salt Spa in Williamsburg. It was superb. We relaxed in a salt cave and had massages. Nick apparently is "a dream for people who do what I do" according to the massage therapist. She thought he should be a trainer. She thought he had the best muscle tissue she's encountered since she began massage in 1994. "For someone with this much muscle mass, you are remarkably free of knots. You must stretch and workout..." You get the picture. I was proud to hear it though, as I stretched back in my reclining chair, inhaling salt air. Trying to relax all of my body, I did succeed by the end of the hour, before my turn on the table. I dozed off a time or two. I kept waking myself though. I was cackling in my dream and then my eyes would pop open because I didn't know if I had done that for real or just in my dream. I do that kind of sh*t all the time. I jerk before I fall asleep sometimes. Massive jerks. Or sometimes I sleep on my arm until it falls asleep and is numb, I wake up, freak out because I can't feel my limb, reach over and pick it up with my other, working hand, and sling it. Then, the deadened arm slaps me in the face. Whack! Ouch! Miscalculation. Anyway, it was then my turn to get a massage. One minute into it and she was like "Oh. My. Gosh. You are way over due. I shouldn't be stopping right here (pointing to my wrist) from tension!" She got to my shoulders and it was like a grunt fest. My knots were giving her fits. She worked her way down to my feet... she's still baffled. "For such a little body, I can't believe you have this many issues going on!" Now, you get this picture too. I was an extreme opposite picture of healthy muscle mass to Nick's- I was seriously tight. Muscle tension mania. Sigh. I looked up from my table at Nick, who had a sympathetic look on his face. That quickly turned into a sly smile as he raised his fore finger into the air to show me that he, indeed, is #1. Again.

Inhale, Exhale, Relax. I need to tell myself, "Just breathe." I need to get back to my yoga. I need to go exhaust my muscles by dancing until I can't dance anymore. I not only need to do that... I want to do that. Want is better than need.

China and Selma Lu Mela are being serenaded by a chirper as they sleep on the window seat. Curled into little balls, they snooze and sigh. They love my writing days. I do too. Honey T'ea Lina spaced out two days ago and ended up getting the dreaded bath twice in one week. (My other two run into the shower. They love it. Not the TeaLite. She freezes in fear.) What happened was this- She was playing chase with Selma, ran into the woods which isn't a big deal because she does that sometimes, but she kept going. Selma Lu stopped and looked back at us- she was not participating. Then, Honey made her way all the way down to the nasty, muddy creek and stood there. We called her. She stood there. (It was a while until we spotted her, she was so deep down in creek.) We kept calling. She kept standing there, staring at us. She must have blacked out. She was frozen, blank. Finally, Nick tossed a rock through the trees and into the creek to splash the water and she became unstuck, responding again to the world around her. Then, it was straight to the shower. Bet she won't do that again.

Last but not least- Earth, we love you. Happy Earth Day. And Katherine, I love you to the moon and back. And past that even! You are a special, wise, perceptive young lady. I adore you with all of my heart and soul and will continue to do so forever. Happy 10th birthday to you. You make me proud every time I see your face. In my life's painting, you are a bright stroke. You are a highlight. You are a focal point.

The 4.11 on April 11th

2011-04-11T21:52:00.018-04:00

The Three Pooches
A Typical Morning Walk

I walk my three dogs now. Not two, but three dogs. They dance around each other nicely and I do pretty well myself, occasionally hopping over a leash or twirling to avoid being wrangled like a rodeo clown. This is the amusing part to me. I walk along and people, without fail, say the same words. They are, "You've got your hands full there." Not kidding. The only variance is when they tack on "Looks like" before "You've got your hands full there." Upon completing the sentence they promptly urge their dog to run over and mingle with my three. I then have a fourth pooch to wrestle around and avoid tangling leashes with as I am dragged around at mercy to the 95 pounds or so of canine chaos. China, the little one, weighing about 13-14 pounds somehow pulls the hardest. She has a bit of a "little man syndrome" when on a walk and competes with the big dogs to prove she's the alpha of the group. She has a frantic greeting with other dogs. It's the funniest half-bark-half-scream scurry I've ever seen. Selma Lu Mela has all the potential to be the hardest to walk, but she is less curious than she is a nervous pleaser. Honey (Te'a Lina) is quiet and steady and focused. She really stabilizes the group so it is no problem that she has joined our walks. She helps out as best she can. Selma Lu has started her annual Selma vs the bumble bee saga. She jumps, bites the air, tries to be sneaky and suddenly charge them. She never wins. Once when she was a wee little pup she came over to where I was sitting at a table and when I reached down to pet her chin, not looking away from my mom during our conversation, she carefully put her upper lip on my hand. I felt it and immediately looked down at her. It felt so unlike a lip. She looked up at me with the fattest left upper lip I have ever seen. The bumble bee started this life-long fight apparently. She was stung on the lip. A dog's immune system is marvelous though, and it shrunk back to normal size in no time at all.

Have you ever heard of the Niacin Flush? If you ever take Niacin you will know what the Flush is. I sit here typing with skin the color of a red pepper and I am itchy and on fire. This is the worst it has ever been hands down. This is normal I have read and actually shows signs of progress in the body. It's all about blood flow and detoxification. You'll have to put it in the search engine and read up on it if you ever try Niacin- I can't recite what I read. It lasts only a little while. It may be gone and I may be my usual winter white self by the time I am half way into my next paragraph.

So, today is April 11th, significant because this is the ten year anniversary of meeting my husband. We will be married 6 years come Saturday, but this date is just as important to me. It is the date that my world went from No-Nick to Nick. An important transition. I am less traditional I suppose by saying this, but I value this date as much or more than a wedding anniversary date because I could have lived with Nick "like married" forever and it would have been fine with me. I was as happy with him before as I have been after a marriage ceremony. Our behavior didn't change nor did our loyalty and love. So, happily married I sit, but I am sure that I would be as devoted as I am now if we weren't technically hitched. The ceremony of it and the way marriage presents you as a couple to society- that is the main distinction that I have noticed. But, as I have noted before, we are the type to live 'as married' with one another whether we are married or not. Which is a hefty dynamic in a relationship. There is so much junk that I never have had to think about in our relationship and I am so thankful for that because the drama that some people endure with the ones they love is heartbreaking to hear about. It must be draining to deal with certain devastations regarding an unequal approach to a relationship.

First Official Date!
April of 2001- KD Luau

As for April 11, 2001- I look back at all my giddiness and the gut-feelings I had about this handsome boy I found at a bar in Athens, GA and say with delight, "It all turned out wonderfully." The main memory I have is the eye contact. I locked eyes with this really handsome guy across a crowd and he didn't look away. My eyes bounced around a time or two as I contemplated whether or not he was looking at me and he did a bang-up job of answering that question because his eyes stared straight at me and didn't move. And that confidence (and his calves) definitely got my attention. So, he came over, leaned in to my ear and said, simply, "I'm Nick." Voila. Hello, Nick. I'm in love. I think I stuck my foot in my mouth several times during our initial conversation. And then I kept calling him by the wrong last name every time I introduced him to a friend. He finally spelled it for me and I had it from then on. What can I say... I'm visual... and it was probably 2 am at least by the time I was into introductions.

The Katherine and Beth Duo

Not long after I met my love, another love came into my life. I think I may have been the first person on Earth to see her. (Her birthday is Earth Day too.) I was being the loving sister that I am (eh hem, Paige) and pampering my pushing sister during her first child birth. Shane was focused on her completely and so when the time came for Katherine's entrance something came over me and I just had to be there! I never asked permission from my sister, which may have been nice, but I was there and it was miraculous indeed. And from the first moment she hit light she has been a beautiful ray of light in my life. And the same goes for Landry and Madeline. But, I was the baby in my family. I had never seen a fresh, new baby. This was my first infant to claim. I never even knew if I could do kids before then. I had never held a baby for any substantial amount of time, never comfortably without being scared the mommy was going to snap and bite me if I did something wrong. I had no instinct. And every time I was shampoo shopping and a cart full of screaming kids was sharing my aisle I really thought I was going to slam my head into the shelf to put myself out of my misery. That's the sort of uncertainty I had before Katherine. But, she came and I couldn't get my hands on her fast enough. I could have swallowed her my affection was so intense. And now she is nearly 10 years old. A special thing Katherine and I share is that she was born on the 22nd and her Life number is 11. I was born on the 11th and my number is 22. So, we are mates.

Before Nick and I wed in 2005 I planted the Sunday before. I was in my garden with the back door open so that I could see the golf tournament on television. It was Masters Sunday and Tiger won and I remember it vividly. This past Sunday I watched the Masters (a thrilling performance by all) and was pulling for Tiger again. I like watching him play and especially in The Masters. I think many are afraid to root for him now given all his past personal problems, but I still do. I am not asking him to be a spiritual leader or an elementary school principal or an elected official or anything that concerns his personal life and poor or wise decisions. I see him for what he has offered to be publicly and that is a professional golfer and he is amazing at that job. I must also say that people who drool over JFK scorn Tiger Woods and that is perplexing. JFK was an elected President who did many shameful things in his private life. Tiger Woods is a professional golfer... That's just an example. Tiger screwed his personal life up royally, but I don't want to be in the audience- it is none of my bee's wax. The fact that he was seven strokes back and I could say to my husband that he was still in the race and be right... that I will be a spectator of and say "wow." Anyway, I am just saying that I pulled for him. It was all crazy. So many people were stepping in and out of the lead and all of Tiger's putts were spitting in his face. How they didn't drop I do not know. Golf versus physics is like Selma versus the bumble bee. It is one-sided.

I am again translucent in skin color and do not feel like hot dragon breath is blasting me. Thought that may be note-worthy.

April 11th has another neat memory for me. It is Nick's uncle Oleg's birthday. He would be 98 today. According to his last plan that he told us about this would only put him slightly past the half way mark in his ten year plan. He said he started working with weights. Anyway, he passed and I would ask him for signs occasionally to know he was there. I got many. Really cool ones like seeing a Punk'd episode where the 'victim' wore a 'COLEGE' teeshirt and his button-up shirt fell over the C and the E leaving OLEG in the middle. That was right after I was talking to him in my head. And I had a dream of him that was probably the most real life dream I have ever had in my entire life. That's too long to get into now. There are many other neat signs but the one having to do with today is this: I told him often that I met Nick on his birthday and so I always remembered it. I was driving my car in Atlanta after having returned from his funeral in NYC and I was thinking about it all, very sad. (I am hoggish about asking for signs & the ones I love that have left probably get really tired of me asking for them.) Then, suddenly, coming from across the many empty lanes of the road I was on was this car. It zoomed directly in front of me and stayed. I thought the guy was on crack. It was the dumbest driving I had seen in a while. But, there in my vision was his car tag. It said APRIL 11. And I said, "Thanks, Oleg." Because the first thing I think of on 4.11 is meeting Nick. The second thing I think of is Oleg. So, the tag made sense to me. Little things like that add up.

Spring Flowers and Blue Skies
at The Cotton Mill

Spring sprung. It is here. The weather has been pleasant and being out doors feels better than it has in a long time. Selma Lu Mela ran through a field of yellow flowers bringing her ball back to me so that I could throw it in pathetic fashion for her to chase. Honey Te'a Lina hasn't been farther than an arms length from me all day. She didn't even leave me to explore in the woods by the creek. And China Lingua has learned how to follow her leash around me so that I don't have to do anything but say "Other side, China" and she lines up. She is a smart cookie. It has been a very good day. Oh, and!!! My husband has publicly (on facebook) agreed to "spoil me absolutely rotten" for the next 50+ years. That sounds like a Master plan. That is an April 11th to remember. (...Just in case he doesn't.)

pssst...* Here's a link to listen to another song that was on the long-ago song suggestion list. Perfect song for a morning walk!
Norah Jones and Wyclef- Any Other Day

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dPjATjFlIqk&feature=player_embedded

time=life?

2011-04-08T13:41:00.003-04:00

Mornin', Mornin'.

That is how I learned to say Good Morning while living in Anguilla, BWI. I noticed they were extremely early risers and this phrase means it is a really good morning. I guess they drop a Mornin' when it is just fair or mediocre. They, in general, stayed up late and got up early. It could have something to do with the pace of their day. Maybe they get to enjoy more of their days because they don't run themselves into the ground and enjoy looking around, stopping to laugh, and exercising the right to say "I'll get to that tomorrow... or next week." That really means, "You'll have this done in four months if I like you." There is one establishment there that I frequented and I liked the people a lot. They rented cars and would provide tours of the island. Wendell, the owner, did other things too of course, because Anguillans have multiple jobs. In fact, they live longer and have less debt than Americans. They build their houses as they go and don't 'borrow' them. When I would go in to rent a car or set up tours or book any other service they provided I was typically working on a short deadline (the American way, you know, like "right now") and had a long list of things to complete or sort out- some of them not even on the island so imagination was key. I have this image/memory in my head of me walking in the door with all of the frantic energy that comes with "I need this on American time (done right now) and not island time (not a chance you crazy American chica!), can you help me?" The two wonderful ladies behind the counter would stare at me, smile slowly, and together they would remind me that I was acting crazy and needed to slow down in life. They would tell me I was going to miss life in the process of hustling. And all that time I thought I was a stop-and-smell-the-roses-er. I thought I belonged in the club of people who stepped back and took it all in. I guess that is outside of work. When I work, I have found out, I get a bit fierce about it. Any perfectionist trait moves forefront, and control-freak tendency bumps up a dozen notches, and I do not relax until it is done- and it better be right and make someone who judges it happy. If not, I add pissed-off b*tch to the list of awful characteristics above. It turns out I smell the roses if there is no deadline to run across behind them. The only exception to this is my wedding. I was zen, blissed-out, in an out-of-body state. That entire wedding time was calm and we all glided through it. I take some of that back. On every event day I am as cool as a cucumber. In the States I was okay on the job too, I have remembered. For instance, at PureRed Creative I think I handled things in good time and in great spirits. That is because I was one part of a huge team that was on top of everything rolling across their desks. So, I'll give myself more credit than I did previously in this paragraph. When slow motion is paired with right-now expectations I am frantic. When warp speed is paired with right-now expectations I am fine. But warp speed and right-now expectations drive people into the ground. Slow motion paired with 'take it easy' style creates long-livers. How many words have I invented and hyphenated in this entry already?

Long-livers. This is sweeter than saying old people. Old is a nasty word to use on people. Use old to describe stone walls and ancient trees and a pair of socks that need to retire to a trash can. Right? People, not old. We all feel like 8-year-olds inside. That is the puzzlement I hear expressed from everyone as they age and find themselves being pushed against their will into a category considered old. Yikes. I prefer having to recount my age when people ask because I don't think about it and/or give a flying kite about it one way or the other. Jack Nicholson, I'm with you. Time is for the birds.

Speaking of long-living. I wrote something a while back that has served as useful to me recently. Specifically, a very tragic thing happened to a family living in Edenton. I do not know them personally, but I do know some of their very close family friends personally and so I tried to be a good listener and friend for my friends that were experiencing this painful situation. And, even though I did not know the family that lost their dearly loved and very young son, I thought of them often and sent out many prayers for them. No one knows how to heal a heart from pain like that. The only chance of that happening stems between the hurt heart and Grace. Those are my own thoughts anyway- loss of that sort knocks a soul off orbit and the only gravitational force strong enough to pull it back to what is most likely a new orbit, nowhere near the same, is God and a person's spirituality. When my friend was wrapping her mind around the loss I was noticing that my heart ached with recognition of this kind of grief. Emotions can challenge beliefs. The mind/body/spirit has a lot to do. I did recognize certain similarities between this loss and one I knew. That's why when I spoke toward the above to give a sign of the bigger picture or help me get back to a happy space I was warmed inside when I reached in my bag not even ten minutes later and accidentally put my hand on folded paper. I pulled the paper out and curiously opened it and found words that I had written on paper, folded them up, and forgot about them. I read them.

On Longevity:

In this notion of protecting one's self against life, in this attempt to protect and be safe, the spirit is held back and in the effort to live a longer quality of life, the thing that happens instead is that life becomes one thing that holds fear and doubt and guessing. In the attempt to savor life, in the attempt to show respect to the idea of life and that it is a precious, sacred thing- the life is drained from the process. In this fear of doing something wrong, the life's joy that one wants to live for goes to the winds- vanishes and we are left with regret. At the end of a long life we sit and recognize that our life's purpose of living a long life isn't enough. It isn't longevity we wish for, it is passion and it is panache that we yearn for in life. This cannot be gained in a hesitant, weak grasp of the days. But, to grab hold boldly your life and steer- That is the wish we make and only then do we sit at the end and face forward knowing that we have nothing to turn back on with the face of regret.

Because of the way people think of time being the most precious thing one can hold (the real prize isn't time) there is hiding and shrinking from death. Because of this thinking, the person is deceived. It is not time to cherish. It is zest. It is zest that matters most. Live life as you wish and do it with happiness because this is why you live at all.

Next, is the one thing in the world that stops people from doing what they want. The one item/reason contributed most is money. Then time. Then that the resources other than those wasn't available. These reasons suffice in many lives. Can we understand this and why? It helps soothe the reality one has created and this choice of a life far from what they truly want. It helps with the ability to absorb the life and way in the daily routine one performs. It causes such sadness, but it is still the 'medicine' people prefer. Whether or not it is the real reason at all does not matter. It isn't the thing that is why one can or cannot live properly.

And this is the ticket.

This is the secret of why or why not one achieves or does not achieve dreams.

The reason is quite simple and does not require thought at all.

It is one of thoughtlessness.

It is candor.

None of it leads to a life distracted. Have candor and have your life of dreams. Having candor and having no fear is the clue. It is the key. It is how and why we will live a life full and not sit with regret in our heart and soul.

It is why we can live such wonderful courses and walk with smiles and it leads to what is treasured. Now to cease the past mindset and go forward with candor...

Why else could we stop? Why else could we stop from pursuing happiness of which we were created and not hope for more?

Don't look back.

Look forward with vigor and with zest.

Have candor.

Clearly we do not see the simplicity when we are in the middle of it all. We only see how simple it can be when we look into it from afar. But it is very simple. Not even thinking will make it accessible. Don't even think and it will happen. Do only in this moment what is pleasing and feels easy. Do what feels easy because that is what is meant to be done. If we find resistance then it is purposeful in shifting us.

What would our advice be to ourselves at the end of a long life?

"Don't take the road to the end and not have many winding ways in between. It seems that if you can find amusements on the way, it will be a great journey. Don't worry and don't avoid your own desires. Realize what you have. And that is much! It is much that you have wanted in the past. Realize this and soar.

It is on the wings of a grateful bird that flight is taken.

Fly on the wings of a grateful bird and you will find pleasant winds upon your face.

Glide into a life of happy times. It is in the ease that we fly the freest- There is no weight on the wings of the flier's feathers.

Be resourceful with the way you pick your passions, love and wishes. And that is all in the world to consider."

Panache is a word of French origin that carries the connotation of a flamboyant manner and reckless courage. Panache is now used to describe someone who has a dashing confidence of style, or shows a certain flamboyance and courage, and is a familiar word now in English.
Candor is a whiteness, brilliance, unstained purity. It is freedom from prejudice or malice- fairness. Kindliness. Unreserved, honest, sincere expression. Forthrightness.
Vigor is physical or mental strength, energy, or force. It is the capacity for natural growth and survival, as of plants or animals. It is strong feeling; enthusiasm or intensity.
Zest is an enjoyably exciting quality. It is a keen enjoyment- relish, gusto.

These words were helpful for me because one thing I recalled as a similarity between my friend's loss and the one I knew is that the ones we lost were fine examples of how to truly live. Both were full of the words I used on paper. And that made me happy. For them, there was an understanding of the difference between going through the motions in life and living. Either it was an understanding or uncontrollable urge... and either is brilliant to me.

Fast paced living or slow motion. Recklessly daring or hesitant to the point of boring. Or bits and pieces of all of these. It is a matter of perspective to what is pleasing to us, but I wish to read these words more than once in while and in situations of many emotions because this perspective helps me to have a little hindsight in the present.

Mornin' is now hindsight and I guess I should wish everybody an Afternoon, afternoon before leaving the page.

I'm going to grab hold of something boldly with lots of zest and panache.

ta-ta.

Taking a two song-ond break.

2011-04-07T14:58:00.000-04:00

Break time.

I have one beloved itunes playlist that starts with Fall At Your Feet, Acoustic, James Blunt version. I was looking for a video to link, but none are great, so I'm just going to say "look that one up and listen." It's a go-to song for me and you all may enjoy it too.

In keeping with the mood and intention, I picked another James Blunt song that stays out front in the race to favorite. I found this live performance in France and appreciated it. It has some extreme close-ups and wild eyes, but the lyrics are exceptional and the setting is great. He is an artist.
(Super-close-ups are common lately! Whether watching this or The Lincoln Lawyer, as I did last night, or watching the next video by James Morrison note how extreme the close ups are. Also note that when watching Matthew McConaughey extreme close ups are welcome. Let's talk about that movie later!)

Here is I Really Want You, James Blunt, Live from France:

Now, here is the SOC snippet that I wrote earlier this morning and mentioned in the last post and a video of another song that fits its topic. This is not an edited piece of work, it is just what I dumped on the page this morning.
...and it is not personal.

Separation
Between you and me, there is a long line of disconnect. Open circuits forming a line of nothing being transferred from your mind to mine. Blankly we stare into one another's eyes and we see nothing. We look for what we want to see and it isn't there, doesn't exist. We can't complain. What did we expect? Person to person, you to me and me to you- we confuse. Hope for common ground or common interests at least? But, there is nothing common about a human being and there are no grounds to walk with another in the space between us. Should we stay and try? Should we remain? A promise is a sacred thing- but happiness is the divine. We face the day of decision with tears in our empty eyes.

This is why it happens.

Turn- and walk away.

I thought of a song that goes:

The Pieces Don't Fit Anymore, James Morrison

I'm going back to "work" now. Watch The Lincoln Lawyer so we can discuss!

Tour, Pace, & Finish the Race

2011-04-07T12:50:00.002-04:00

I recently did another Southeastern tour. I drove from Edenton, NC to Atlanta, GA to Brookhaven, MS to Moultrie, GA to Vidalia, GA back to Moultrie, GA to Atlanta, GA and then home- to Edenton, NC. Yes, it did make me dizzy.

The reason for the trip? Ginny. She got married and a beautiful bride she did make. That's a funny way of saying she was a beautiful bride. I have design imprints from events and the imprint from this event was a romantic, shabby-chic, moonlit night with a pop of modern, peach and white, round paper lanterns. In this night stood a lovely lady in a soft white gown with copper colored waves of hair falling around her shoulders and reflections of light-filled happiness twinkling in her brown eyes. Virginia Caroline is married. Happily.

After the weekend of family fun and after a long drive east to Georgia I made another trip. I went to Vidalia, Georgia, home of a famously sweet onion, to meet with a former English professor. He looks as I remember and is, in a masculine way, elegant in nature. He has a proud posture and dresses in a way that is perfect for a man of the English language. It is exactly as you imagine, easily smart with a quiet formality. This man is dear to me and I hadn't seen him in quite a while. I quickly remembered how deep of a pool his mind is and that to jump in is humbling to say the least. When speaking with him I am skimming the surface of that well of knowledge, going under to look around and coming back up to gasp for air. I realize how dumb I really am. Being with him is like watching 'Good Will Hunting'. I beg to be smart. So, I have five books that he gave me, two of which are collected poems he wrote. He also gave me This Side of Paradise and The Beautiful and Damned by F. Scott Fitzgerald and A Handbook To Literature that is remarkably helpful and interesting. I have a list of books to read that he advises will cover everything (in the ways of writing and reading) and another recommended book, The Trivium: The Liberal Arts of Logic, Grammar, and Rhetoric, to purchase. The good news is that I showed him the first 42 pages of my book and I wasn't slaughtered. I got a look of puzzlement a time or two and that was expected because I have tried to be different in the writing of this story. After reaching a certain point he seemed to get excited because my style of writing became clear to him. Of course, as you could guess, it is Stream of Consciousness. I won't bore you now with all of his insights and amusements at my writing... I think for a man of his sophisticated intellect I am humorous. I handed him the Synopsis of my book after he read the pages I handed to him- ill timing, but it seems that's the way I roll. He looked at me, said it was really good and then it was as if I could read his thoughts as he gave a slight hesitation. I picked up the slack at that moment of hesitation and said "Why didn't I write the book like that?" "Yes." He said, "Why didn't you just write it like this?" What is the answer to this? It didn't come to my head that way. And I am being true to the way the story unfolded in my head, even though it may be an obstacle. At the end of our six hours at his kitchen table he put his hand on the top of my stacked pages and said "Don't change it. This is you." So, aside from his insistence on changing the word 'by' to the word 'near' and some other pointers like that... I passed and feel good about it. He has a Ph.D. in English and Literature and a minor in philosophy... I am proud of anything outside of a trash can. I could have seen my words slashed and dismembered and my bloody pages could have been as good as a crumpled paper ball in a trash can. So, I give myself a passing grade. I hope he agrees.

I did hand these pages to my friend Julie and she, being a positive person in general, gave me the supportive feedback of wanting more pages to read. That is my goal. So, I gulped the "Gatorade" needed to finish the race. I have gotten encouragement from a peer and a "keep it the way it is" from a person possessing far more superior brain cells than mine. From a new mommy and cake pop queen to an English language purist and professor... I feel I traveled farther than all my routes around the Southern states. He may never have read this book on his own if he didn't know me. It is romantic and is probably more appealing to women. Regardless, I did it. I showed them both.

My dad had a birthday on the 14th of March, just a couple of days after my cousin's wedding. Her wedding was like a gift to him- a get-together with all of his family. He is so easily pleased. He sets a very good example of how to be happy any time, anywhere, with no requirements. He is happy. As simple as the sentence, is his happiness. He, like his mom was, is very accepting because he listens to me in the back seat as he drives his family to Mississippi or elsewhere. He'll say "Are you my daughter?" every now and then, although he knows full well, I have many of his tendencies. I apparently have many character traits of my mother's father too. I get that a lot. I never knew him, but can feel him at times. I can sense his personality. I missed having a grandfather. They left before I arrived. Pictures help. I cling to them. Paige's children will never say the same because my father is a wonderful Papa, or Poppy as Madeline would say. Her kids have two sets of wonderful grandparents.

I have been away so long that I have so much more to say. I am pacing myself because I want to work on my book and not become sucked into anything else. I did write a little something that is either amusing or nonsensical but it shouldn't be paired in the same blog entry as that of my cousin's wedding news. It is of disconnect and the opposite of a happy union. Happy unions are bountiful lately. I have two wonderful friends that have become engaged and I have one friend that is expecting her first baby (talk about a union!). I am gearing up for shower-my-friends mode. Another cousin is wedding April 30th. And Nick and I celebrate our own happy union on the 16th, which means all month. Six years married. Ten years together. We have been together like-married almost all of our relationship. We are the type that live that way. Which is now another reason to put my SOC on disconnect and separation in another post.

For me, on this day, I am devoted to sitting my bum in this chair. I'll refresh my coffee, light my candles, pick tunes, and occasionally walk the doggies. Otherwise, I am sitting. Typing. Thinking. Hoping. Writing. Editing the rest of my pages.

Luxury-ess: Day In, Day Out.

2011-04-06T14:50:00.002-04:00

I dare say, "Do what you want to do."

Luxury, to me, means just that. I spent some time thinking a couple of years back about exactly what it is that I want to do in life. (on a day-to-day basis) My answer to myself was: I want to wake up in the morning and ask myself with my head still on the pillow (no jumping up to start the ant race with frantic energy) "What do you want to do today?" and BE ABLE TO DO EXACTLY THAT! That is the most thrilling thought to me. What an absolute luxury.

Like today, I went to a yoga class. Great.

I went to a yoga class with a couple of my friends that I just treasure. Even better than great.

I drove past my favorite view in Edenton. Aah.

I came home, feeling relaxed and healthy, to three fuzzy pups that greeted me with pure enthusiasm and I poured deliciousness into my pretty mug. Segafredo. Ground luxury. Mmmm.

Now, comes the best part. I am writing. I am doing exactly what I want to do.

Some of my friends suggest to me that I write more about writing. I have thought about that before, but the idea that it would be interesting to others is new. I may do that. For now though, I am going to spend my day seriously moving forward with my project. I am aware that sitting on a product for three years is a bit much.

I am about to make my writing task completely luxurious and have my desk adorned with a silver cup of sharpened, brand new pencils; grab a customized blank notepad; use a handmade coaster courtesy of moi to rest my pretty mug; supply a stack of useful, smart books; and play music that stirs creativity in the mind. I may go put on a stylish pair of shoes so that my scarf doesn't feel like the lonely fashionable accessory. I might even lean back and put my feet up on the desk and speak with sass to nobody.

Oh, I almost forgot. I have no fresh flower. But, I will keep my bottle of Caldrea near me to squirt in the air and sniff. Lavender Pine is my suggestion.

So, luxury-ess tip of the day is: Do what you want to do. Live it up! Laugh about it. Don't be obliged all your days.

... and Segafredo is the coffee way to go.

All this being said... I will try and take my own advice, Day In and Day Out.

* Segafredo is at Mitchner's, downtown Edenton.

* Caldrea is at Urban Village, Edenton. Leave enough for me. ;)

Can I get a Ketut?

2011-04-06T13:33:00.004-04:00

Eat Pray Love plays to my left. The ones sitting in front of the television are China and Selma Lu Mela. They snooze and seemingly enjoy the sounds of Italy, India, and Bali. Honey, our adopted addition, has just joined them, situating herself so that she sees me from the floor near the coffee table. Either she prefers the floor or she doesn't feel she has gained sofa-status. I think they relate to the story. They eat, they love, and there is proof they pray because Honey isn't stranded in an empty, lonely field as her last owner intended. Instead she is brushed every night while curled on a feather pallet and gets sweet wishes whispered in her ear. I think she has this eat, pray, love thing down.

I saw this movie in Edenton's movie theatre that must claim historical significance as the rest of the town does. Out front is a really cool old marquee with big bulb lights. Nevertheless, the fuzzy screen did its job and I sat there salivating as the shot zoomed in to a plate of pasta. The parmesan cheese sprinkled and scattered over the perfect-looking al dente noodles like magical fairy dust. I looked to my left where my dear friend sat and she looked to her right locking eyes with me. Both of our jaws went slack and we stared at each other with the same expression not even whispering but knowing exactly what the other meant. We would have metaphysically transported our bodies to Rome with no hesitation if we could have in that moment. After the movie the group of girls filling up our row of seats gathered in a circle on the sidewalk. It was as if we were in second grade and met on the playground. We all buzzed about where we would go after we dropped everything in life. And we exchanged confirmations of the fact that Javier Bardem was cast perfectly. ("You don't need a man Liz, you need a champion." Wow.) Then, behind us came the older, more traditional generation. We overheard their exchange of opinions and it was remarkable how greatly they differed from ours. They pronouncedly didn't like it all and were bored with her pursuit of happiness and sense of knowing more of herself than she did before. This difference has stuck with me. I notice how things have changed with time, as they always do. Change. One can not fight it. You change, or you die... seems to me. The body is built on the ability to change and the soul is the same, in my thinking. As far as the masses go- The flexibility within has increased from the former generation to the one I sit in- and the allowance to exhibit this outwardly has increased too.

Did the set before us learn to be dot connectors from their parents or was it a collaboration? How have we learned to be less rigidly traditional if this pattern is passed from one age set to the next? I guess it is gradually loosening, this stranglehold on "The Way to Live One's Life". We can see the creative differences everywhere. An easy place to start is fashion. It is about individuality not conformity these days. It is about ease of movement not restriction. We don't have to fake comfort anymore, we can pursue it. And if we want to choose discomfort, no one judges that either. Stilettos and tight pencil skirts are completely acceptable when worn next to jersey knit and flip flops. Just an example.

When I was younger than I am right now I would drive home from college bursting internally with frustration over the same idea that had frustrated me for all my years in high school. "Who came up with the rules? And who says I have to obey them? Why do I need to connect the dots, marching down the same path from check point to check point, and draw the same outline as everyone else? Why did society conform to this particular direction and call it best?" It felt like suffocation. When I watched crowds of people doing exactly the same things in the exact same way, I felt like running in the other direction as fast as I could. It cost me some friends that I adored too. But, it was impossible for me to join the crowd and flow uniformly. So, I chose to be a friend to myself- as best I could anyway. I was, after all, going to be around me longer than I would be around anyone else. ;)

I read a comment from an interview of a celebrity that does things consistently her own way. She said (paraphrasing) that being an individual is not always easy, that people who choose to be individuals can find themselves lonely sometimes because that is part of it. I was in the bathtub relaxing and reading by candlelight when I took notice of those words. True. I thought. It was so basic and so true. Also, it was admirable. I enjoy seeing people be genuine to themselves.

It serves well as a reminder. When faced with huge gaps between your ways and another's ways, these words are comforting and reassuring that we all have our own company and there is a sort of bravery in marching down the path we choose to be ours and not the one others plan for us. It is a 'road less traveled' moment. It would be nice if we all had a Ketut like the subject of the film-someone who knew our way as much as we did and could subtly point us in the direction we meant to be facing before we got sidetracked or turned around. Maybe if we are aware enough eventually we find our inner Ketut.

Look inward not outward for answers. Repeat.

It was a generation gap, the differences in what each group of gals gained from the film. So often we are told that we have strayed from what is right and good and that we should go back to solid values. New generations are often scolded. I see that we could also move forward to better values. The world is more dangerous 'they' say. Statistically, based on percentages, the results say the opposite is true. And I think of the fact that in those "good old days" two World Wars dominated civilizations and atomic bombs were dropped and... still the older set keep marching us toward war and utter disharmony (some do this while preaching the opposite). Who is telling who about right versus wrong? If we were all confident enough to march down our paths toward happiness & difference and not toward expectations & uniformity would we find peaceful existence?

Maybe a better question is- How did all this come from watching Julia Roberts globe trot?

Starved

2011-03-23T23:12:00.001-04:00

This one is heavy. It will weigh on the mind.

I have to stamp something physically with my thoughts. There are many happy and sweet things inside of me right now. I have enjoyed a lovely time spent with family and friends in the past days and I would love to express those feelings in an entry. Now, here comes the lingering BUT.

But, there is an image my eyes rested on and in no more time than it took the optic nerves to send the image to my brain, where deduction of meaning and reaction of emotion and all that stuff that happens in our magical brains that makes us creations and creators, I had a painful feeling in my core. It is a manipulated image. A graphic designer has taken liberty to create a stark portrait of reality. And it is not abstract. It is not even imagined. It is simply a view from a distance. It is a truth.

It (and some other images and words) was sent to me via email and then I was asked by text “What did you think about that?” My words in reaction to this image (and the others):

“They were disgusting, sad, pathetic, devastating, repulsive, shameful, appalling, degrading, loathsome, grotesque, sickening, glutinous, and worst of all true.”

They responded, “So what are you trying to say?” The joke with my friends is that I really need to learn how to form an opinion. But, it would be hard to find any sensitive individual who wouldn’t react the same as I did.

This is such an ugly truth and such an accurate reflection of circumstances that it burns a hole in the pit of the stomach and burrows tightly within the hole, never leaving.

It is a blessing to have ample food. It is a blessing to have a selection of food and the ability to feed our bodies properly and with exquisite taste. We know that.

And this, my friends, is what we have turned that blessing into…

Look around, look in the mirror, look on your plate, and look in your trash can.

Have you ever felt like weeping so much in your recent memory?

The thing that makes this worse is that we have done this and we see this and know this and we CONTINUE to do this. Let’s just stop. Let’s be appropriate and decent and respectful to not only our own bodies but for the bodies of the other human beings on Earth that are STARVING to DEATH. There are people… children… that die, fall over and die, from not having food. On the other hand, our disgusting society insists on Biggie Fries and we complain like maniacs when too few are in the greasy heap in front of us.

There is plenty of healthy food on Earth. We shouldn’t be the only ones ashamed at our disrespectful behavior. The criminal corruption that rules Africa’s continent- and other regions- that note and ignore this sort of tragedy should be… well, that’s the point, what could be done to equal this sort of pain and horror? There is no suitable disciplinary action. Only Karma comes close and then, still, only negative energy resounds.

I just wish them gone. I wish the wind would blow the persons and organizations that starve their children to nothing. I wish them gone and replaced by nurturers and celebrators- defenders- of life.

That could happen. They will die. All people die. And these insane assholes that hoard food and goods, stock pile foreign aid money, and deprive the citizens of their soil the basic right to eat and live and be happy… they will die. Please God, replace them with good people that protect life.

If there is ever a time to pray to God for reason and good will to echo so loudly across the lands of this planet that it bursts the drum of ill intent and leaves simple peace and harmony called FED, then this is that time. We don’t need a miracle; we need mindfulness. Capability is not without- it is so obviously within us. Basically, solutions exist. In my opinion these solutions aren’t going to come from government. Why? Because we have government now and they aren’t doing anything about it. We’ve had government all this time and they haven’t even made progress. Why would we keep relying on failures grouped together calling themselves “government”? Sir Isaiah Berlin states in his book The Crooked Timber of Humanity that aiming people and their exhausted efforts toward an unseen goal, one that is never attainable is “a cruel mockery”. That applies to this idea from my point of view. This is a mess that governments have contributed to and we are told to keep on trusting they will work toward a solution… yet they have no solution mapped out and they ignore blatant mishandling and they keep saying the same taglines with no results. It is insulting. They think we are rats racing toward cheese on a string. They hold this string and pull, creating a situation that is forever “just within grasp” or “on the horizon”. I am not quite sure of Alexander Herzen’s entire intent when he wrote these words because I read an excerpt of the essay that contained them- but these particular words are basic, relevant, and make sense: “… a goal which is infinitely remote is no goal, only… a deception.”

No, I think this solution is going to come from collective agreement within the minds of people all over this planet that this can and will be solved and then simply act in accordance. That may sound vague and broad. It is. That’s the point. But, what would happen if every consciousness tuned into solving this very solvable matter? If every person on a boat simply leans to the right, do you think a ripple results? And that ripple continues on, gaining momentum and energy until all of that displaced water crashes on a shore making an impression.

In essence we are all on a boat together. Let’s lean our minds toward what’s right.