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October 14, 2004
I was looking
through past journals for a theme to
stick with for a while and settled on
this one from September 15th of this
year. I'm not sure if I just got
tired of clicking links or if I really
like it. I'm not feeling like myself
lately and so I'm working on not making
any major decisions. Forget that
what picture shows up on my nonsoapy
isn't a particularly major decision, but
these days, it feels like it. I'll
just do true journal style and list the
entries one on top of the last for
awhile. It will make posting easier.
This was originally called "Aimless
Contemplation of the Coming Harvest
Moon." I figured cropping it to
"Aimless Contemplation" pretty much
covered what I do here.
Today has been
an odd day. The sun forgot to come
up. We have wildfires a good
distance from here and the smoke is
obscuring the sky so that there's an
orange pall to everything and it's
extremely overcast. The pine
needles have been falling like mad, so
the road is about 7 inches wide with
huge margins of needles eating up each
side and they are almost exactly the
same color as the air. The sun is
a red jackball in the sky. White
ash is snowing over everything.
Last night, Eric shined a high powered
flashlight up in the darkness and it
looked like a blizzard. We aren't
in any danger, but it's really strange
outside.
Last night,
Eric stopped by to check the hospital
and see how our dog, Spooky, is doing
and was told he has already been adopted
out. Our neighbor had agreed to
adopt him for us over a week ago and I
prayed that she'd picked him up, but a
phone call revealed that she never made
it down to check into it. So he's gone
and he's not coming back. It was a
little stunning for all of us to have it
be so final. I still miss him
every day.
In the Tarot,
there is a card called "The Tower" that
means the breaking down of all you
considered to be permanent and relied
upon. It comes up when the rug is
being pulled out from under your feet
and your world is turned upside a bit.
Certainly, I'm not in the worst place
I've ever been, but I'm really feeling
challenged lately. I could feel
that Spooky was going to come home
and it went beyond just entertaining
what I wanted to have happen. I'm
usually not wrong when I feel something
that strong. It's not even an ego
thing. It's more of a "huh?"
thing. My spidey sense is
something I trust as much as my physical
vision or my hearing. It really
throws me when it's so far off.
Eric got off
on a tangent last night, complaining
about a few things he doesn't like about
me. I couldn't even work up the
energy to argue the points. Just
watched his mouth moving and forming the
words. My mind drifted to trying
to remember the names of the
ventriloquist and dummy on the show,
"Soap." Bob and Chuck, of course,
the same first names as the Head Writers
of General Hospital, except the roles
are reversed. Corrinne was married
to... Father Tim! Eunice was with
Dutch the Convict! Burt's son who
was murdered multiple times in tandem
was... Peter Campbell! Meanwhile, he
continued on and on.
"Are you doing
that thing where you glaze over???"
"Benson.
I mean no. I'm listening."
Jody's last
name was Dallas and his father was
Johnny Dallas who was Mary's first
husband, who Burt inadvertently killed.
I think. Cemented him into a
bridge. Yeah.
"...a pay site
or even pop ups would generate at least
SOME income for the hours you spend in
front of that goddamned computer every
day, hours for which our family receives
no compensation..."
...then Burt
told Mary that an airplane had landed on
the freeway...
"...won't even
ENTERTAIN the idea because you don't
want to make your esteemed fans sad..."
...and the
time he thought he was invisible and the
bathtub scene where Mary said, "No,
Burt, I can still see you" and he
replied, "No you can't..."
"...using your
resources babbling about a pay site
being the kiss of death when you don't
KNOW..."
...left the
dummy, Bob, behind, on the booth seat,
one leg swinging, and told the waiter
Bob would pick up the tab...
"...depressed
or not, there are certain obligations
you are beholden to..."
...Robert
Urich! From Vegas! That's
who played the playboy tennis pro...
"...driving
5 hours a day and working a full day
on top of that to not make enough money
to live on, to have health insurance, to
get a decent vehicle and here you
sit..."
... Benson
saying, "You want me to get that?"
heh heh heh
I never really
know what to do with Eric when he's
upset. He goes into a "take no
prisoners" mode and is out for the kill.
I've tried most coping reactions I know.
I've cried. I've reasoned.
I've argued. I've listened.
I've left. Nothing seems to
work short of letting him get it all
out. Fortunately, it doesn't
happen that often any more. I
noticed a while back that I almost never
get mad at him except in response to one
of his rants. Otherwise, he's a
pretty decent guy and doesn't much piss
me off.
But then, I am
not easy to piss off to start with.
Once someone gets me to the point of
really having me angry about something,
they have to have pushed and pushed and
pushed. In other words, if you
manage to piss me off, you must have
really worked hard at it and ignored a
lot of really blatant red flags.
At that point, I figured they've worked
really, really hard to push my buttons
and ignore my boundaries, so screw it.
People have
been rearranging themselves in my life a
good bit, which is common for this time
of year. As harvest closes, the
things that won't serve you in the
coming year fall away, by choice or by
design. By nature, harvest is a
time of intense change, just as its
opposite side, Spring is change.
One is life and one is a form of death.
When we harvest from the fields, part of
the plant dies that we might live.
That means by its own dynamic, worn into
time for thousands of years, harvest
time is one of sacrifice and "survival
of the fittest." Maybe that's why
we hold our elections just after harvest
ends. (ha)
My sweetheart,
Sherry (she's such a good friend I will
forever call her "my sweetheart," I
think) and I were talking about this
election and how it's really bringing
out the teeth and claws in people.
It's pretty scary how bunged up people
are getting about it. There
doesn't seem to be any "agree to
disagree." It's all out civil war
and if you aren't voting for a person's
patron candidate, you are casting a vote
against the safety and sanctity of their
family and them's fightin' words.
It's not just a difference of
preference. It's an attack on home
and hearth.
I'm a firm
believer in things pushing ever toward
their greatest good, so I'm not one to
get all wadded up about what may happen
or freaking out if things don't go my
way. I have one candidate that I
warm to a bit more than the other one,
especially since last night's debate.
I like the way he presents himself and
what he has to say. Sherry feels
the same way about the other candidate,
so we decided that since we'd just
cancel out each other's votes, we'll
clink together our beer bottles and
agree to stay home and watch the bedlam
ensue. See, people, it's not hard.
You just understand that different
people have different political needs
and personal preferences, cast your
vote, then stand back and let democracy
do its thing. Every four years, we
spin the wheel and someone wins and
someone loses. Either way, I can't
afford health insurance and who ever
wins will go into office looking spit
polished and emerge four years later
looking 20 years older and like 47 miles
of bad road. I'd better be
careful, or
Sean Penn's going to write me a
letter.
*clink*
See ya later,
Katrina
 
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