Serial Dream

This morning I dreamt that I was part of a search and rescue team trying to evacuate several towns built on and around a volcano that was about to erupt. I kept waking up during it, but as soon as I dozed off again it resumed where it had left off. I know it was caused by the fears over Mount St. Helens- I remember when it blew in 1980- coupled with imagery from the movie Dante's Peak. I often found myself in modified scenes from the movie, actually. At first we had the suspicion that the volcano was going to erupt, then evidence that it was going to blow soon. We (my nebulous team comprised of no known person from real life) tried to warn people who didn't want to know or believe. Finally most of them did when the top started to go. Then some people refused to leave their homes, though they knew it meant death. Hundreds were killed outright as the top exploded in a fiery mess. Dozens more perished when they were trapped or couldn't get away fast enough. It was my job to keep going back to the volcano and its base to rescue those left behind. I never really felt in any danger for myself, but was terrified that I wouldn't be able to save everyone, that I might miss someone and leave them behind.

Scary.

Wandering through the Past

Apropos of nothing I keep remembering a scene from the past...

Newly Discovered Blog

I found this absolutely wonderful blog today, The Creative Journey. The woman is an artist and a wonderfully descriptive writer. I just had to share!

In Search of Serenity

Embracing the Season

I'm sitting in the dark with only the bright glow from the screen to lighten the room. Outside it is dusk and the rain is trickling desultorily from the roof, and from the many-colored leaves of the trees. Autumn has settled in quickly and enfolds me in its cool, comforting arms. This is my favorite time of the year: crisp and sweet and spicy likes the foods traditionally prepared during Fall. If I concentrate I can imagine the aroma of apples and cinnamon and pumpkin pie filling my home. Tonight would be a good evening for sitting next to the fireplace, snuggling with the one I love while sipping on hot cider and speaking in whispers...

Darn that Dumb, Smart Pain in the Neck Dog

And so another day has come and gone. My dog ripped her stitches out- again!- this past weekend. I had to drop her off- again!- to have them replaced. Thank-God they didn't charge me this time, because at this point I can't pay my regular bills thanks to all of the vet bills. When bitter apple spray didn't work they put her in a collar last time, but she tore the sutures anyway so they put her in a larger collar this time.

Within 15 minutes of being home tonight, I found her working on the sutures again! She has figured out how to contort so that she can reach her upper rear leg anyway. At this point I'm ready to either wire her jaws shut, or wring her neck! Hey, she's 9 and she's had a good life, right? It's time...

*sigh* No, I will not do either of the above. Frankly, I don't know what to do. I cut up some old jeans to cover that section of her leg only. Those jeans are now somewhere in the backyard, in the dark where I can't find them.

I don't know what to do, and am exhausted from trying. She is completely singleminded of purpose once she focuses on something; I swear she has OCD! I love her, but one of us is going to have to go on valium. I think I'll flip a coin.

Tangled Thoughts on Careers and Cattiness

I have just finished a passage from a daily meditation book which now has me contemplating working women and what it is that we might really want. While it wasn't the focus of the piece, the author of the passage was discussing the battle between mothers who work full time vs. mothers who work from home, or whose sole job is to take care of the house and children (Stay At Home Moms). I was thinking about the cattiness which sometimes occurs when women who work outside the home and women who don't are thrown together. Professional women make SAHMs feel underappreciated, provincial, lazy and dull by virtue of lack of personal ambition. Whereas the SAHMs look down their noses at career women because they are neglecting the home, husband and children. Career women are portrayed as cold and selfish.

So often in cases like these I think that underneath that nastiness is jealousy. Those who behave that way secretly want what the other side has. They are not happy within themselves and seek to bolster their resolve and belief in the choices they have made. There is no fault, really, with either choice. It's an individual thing. But if you aren't happy with yourself, it doesn't matter what you choose to do. I think most women wish there was more of a middle ground. I believe it's why telecommuting is so popular there are waiting lists for those positions. I know I would prefer to work from my home if I could find a paying gig. In my case though, it has nothing to do with children (my bumper sticker reads "If I want to hear the pitter patter of little feet I'll put shoes on my dog") and everything to do with the fact that I am anti-social. So we need more jobs that allow for middle-of-the-road solutions for career parents (because dads might like to spend more time with their kids too!) which will let them feel fulfilled in every way. I bet productivity goes up after the initial transition is made, and there would be less unpleasantness at the next social function over chosen paths. They'll fight over something else instead...

Joan of Arcadia

I was finally able to watch last night's premier this afternoon; I had a meeting to attend last night so I recorded it. I find it a little odd that I love this show so much. I hate programs that shove God down my throat. Joan of Arcadia affects me differently somehow, though, and I hate missing an episode.

Last season ended with Joan suffering a crisis of faith. Has God really been talking to her, or was it all an illusion created by an untreated case of Lyme Disease? She confides in Adam, who doesn't believe she has really been talking to God, but he does believe that she believes. God him/her/itself remains silent on the subject.

In last night's opener we discover a role reversal. Joan, fresh from the funny farm where she spent 6 weeks making really ugly but inventive lamps, renounces her visions and is determined to be normal. Whatever that is. Adam, on the other hand, has been doing his homework and now believes that she really was talking to God. He tries to convince Joan, but she won't listen. Only when God stalks her in the usual guises throughout the episode does she cave. However, now she refuses to listen or do God's bidding anymore. This leads to catastrophic consequences if next week's preview is any indication.

There was a really sad and moving moment in the show that struck me in particular. Joan's boss is having trouble with his wife, who really is going crazy. She comes down to the store to prove how much she loves him, but in a tragic and gruesome way. She has killed the beloved pet she thought her husband was jealous of.

This episode seemed to be all about secrets kept that would be better shared. It's going to be another good season, I can already tell.

Another Alaskan Night

Matanuska Valley

Commercials

Commercials I love:
-The one in which a man keeps accidentally zapping his co-worker with his cell phone which doubles as a taser.
- The soap-opera/Geico commercial.

Commercials I hate:
-Big Y's commercial in which the mother is running late from work. The kids are bemoaning leftovers and their need to get to their game on time and the father shrugs and blames it on the mother because she had to work late. Lo and behold though Mom has stopped at Big Y market and bought one of their dinners because she cares so much about her family. Son gives Mom an impulsive hug and father gives her a smug smile and a condescending nod of approval.

Give me a break!

First of all, why couldn't the husband have gotten off of his lazy ass and prepared supper when he found out that his wife had to work late? Instead he shrugs helplessly and tells his children that the miserable meal they can expect is their mother's fault. Secondly, the daughter was a teen. She, too, could have prepared something for the family to help out her mother. Finally, the concept that the mother should feel guilty for not being able to be everywhere at once and that it is her sole responsibility to run the home as well as earn a paycheck to help with the bills is not only ridiculous but offensive. I have only seen one commercial which angered me more. That was for a light that was mounted on the back of the garage that was supposed to sense when you're too close and let you know when to hit the brake. Fine in theory except that every person (actor) endorsing it was either a woman lamenting her inabililty to park her car without driving through the back wall, or a husband complaining about his wife's crummy driving. Frankly I was surprised this aired, or that it lasted a few weeks. Every time it came on I ranted to my poor husband, who actually found it as offensive as I did. One day when it aired it had a man sheepishly admitting that he needed to use the light himself to save him from costly repairs. "Aha!" I thought gleefully. "There have been complaints!"

That was the last time I ever saw that one. I wasn't sorry.

The Moon-Spinners

I've finished The Moon-Spinners by Mary Stewart. It was published in 1962 and as a period piece it was fun. I found it among other books that had been given to me and I gave it a go. I'm sure it was a wonderful romantic thriller in its time. A more modern reader would find it a bit silly. If the hypothetical modern reader was a woman, she might also bristle at several points in the tale and declare it all melodramatic rubbish.

For me it was more interesting as a psychological study of both writer and fiction from a past era. How people spoke and behaved, what was acceptable, how the author made characters skirt around certain topics which were understood but not declared, such as homosexuality and domestic abuse.

Yes, it had its points. I wouldn't recommend that anyone run right out and read it, though.

Getting It Out

I have been in the midst of a crashing depression, brought on by the end of my vacation. To recap the last couple of years for those who weren't around before I purged this blog of old entries: my brother (15 at the time) was arrested and convicted as an adult for a crime he didn't commit, he went to prison for 6 months and came out bitter, angry and depressed, lashing out at us all the time because we couldn't save him. My dad (step-father) hooked up with an old girlfriend and left my mother. Divorce took place last October. In January my wrist was badly injured on the job and misdiagnosed, causing my treatment to be severely delayed. In March my (biological) father, who was also bipolar, killed himself. In April I lost my job because my medical leave ran out and I couldn't return to work yet. In May an uncle died in a motorcycle accident while serving in Germany. In June, according to nurses afterwards, while I was being wheeled into OR to have long-overdue surgery, my paternal grandmother died upstairs in the same hospital from complications from pneumonia.

I think it's fair to say that things have been a little difficult. Throughout most of it though, I had a carrot dangling in front of me: my uncle's wedding in Alaska.

Ever since I was little and some of my uncles migrated there, I have wanted to go. It's the rugged beauty of the landscape and the wildlife which has called to me. I found a serenity while there that made leaving very painful. Leaving Alaska meant not only the end of a vacation, but also the return to a life of difficulties and painful choices. Only this time with no relief in sight!

The early days of my return are a blur. I couldn't sleep, or I couldn't wake up. I refused to turn my watch back to EST for almost a month. I felt dazed, with no desire to be any other way. All of the emotions which I had stuffed so well caved in upon me; my defensive walls had been built on a weak foundation and had crumbled upon its collapse. I felt lost.

My father's suicide haunts me and I can't help wondering if I will wind up the same way. I don't think I would shoot myself as he did. I would most likely start drinking again to find false liquid courage. I know I can't drink again. In my heart I know it means death, and this has helped to keep me sober for over 7 years. I don't have a desire to drink today, and for that I am grateful. But the knowledge that I could pick up and commence a slow and painful death is with me every day. I can't afford to forget. Sometimes though one or both of my diseases starts whispering messages that are almost subliminal, about how much easier it would be to simply stop trying anymore. How easy it would be to swing the wheel and drive into the quarry just off the road. I think that is how I would do it; I would arrange a one-car accident for myself that would be quick, if not altogether painless. I used to contemplate it back in my drinking days. My thinking was that if I died in a car accident, nobody had to bear the pain of living with my suicide. Of course, if I survived the crash... that could really suck!

Now that I have thoroughly scared my friends, you should know that I am not planning any such thing. Not really. These are the random synaptical misfirings that occur in my brain, usually while driving, and which last only for a second or two before I move on to other thoughts. The fact that I have these thoughts at all, given my condition, warrants attention on my part. I continue to see my therapist every week and have recently concluded that it's time for an increase in my lithium when I see my doctor in October. I'm still active in AA, too, for those friends of Bill W. who may be reading this. I'm not unstable; I'm just depressed and trying to express it rather than stuff it.

Now it's time to move a muscle and change a thought. ;0)

Cat Stevens vs. Yusuf Islam

I keep coming across entries deriding the TSA for deporting Cat Stevens/Yusuf Islam. Grr. Does nobody know what "Cat Stevens" has been up to for the past 30 years? I don't normally think that I am surrounded by terrorists, and I don't support this administration or its policies most of the time. But I have to say that I think this time the TSA got it right.

Cat Stevens no longer exists. Ask Yusuf Islam; he'll tell you. He renounced himself and that whole identity back in the 70's, I think it was. Too bad, I was a big fan and remain a fan of his music. He doesn't even take his royalty checks. He cashes them and gives away the money, not out of a sense of generosity but because he feels so much contempt for what he once stood for.

Instead he became a religious fanatic. When Rushdie wrote the Satanic Verses and a bounty was placed on his head, Yusuf Islam called for his death. In the 90's he declared jihad on all infidels. He wants us all dead. It does not surprise me in the least that he was on the TSA's watch list. I would have been more surprised had they let him in. Yusuf Islam is not someone being persecuted for being muslim; he is one of the crazed zealots that give the true faith of Islam a bad name.

I love the music of Cat Stevens, and mourn the man as though he died. In essence, he did. I think he would agree with me. If I weren't an American woman and an infidel.

Life of Choice

"What difference does it make how I am treated by life? My real life is within." ~Angela L. Wozniak

Avoidance, and A Past Remembered

I'm trying to put off a chore, and so I here I am. The chore won't go away and it needs to be done. There's a deadline involved. It isn't even difficult or all that time-consuming. I simply don't feel like it. That inner child is stamping its foot saying "Don' wanna!" I'd best get it done soon.

In the meantime, I had a nice day. My grandmother, who is in the nursing home with alzheimer's, won something like Make a Wish. Due to the delicacy of her health we were unable to travel someplace with her, as we would have liked. There are places that she wishes she might see again, but it wasn't meant to be. Instead, we took her out for brunch and some quality family time. After we ate we watched home movies which dated back from the early days of her marriage, to when her children were teenagers. There were people special to her who had passed on decades ago; she was able to see them again on film and remember time spent with them. These things are so important as we age, particularly when the distant past is more clear in your mind than the present.

Most of the family was there to be with her. My cousin took polaroids of everyone with Grammie and gave us a card with our name on it. We each wrote a personal message on the card, which was then placed in a photo album next to the picture of us with her. It helps to remind her of who we are, and that she is loved. Finally, we played a trivia game based on Grammie's life. There was a lot of laughter, and my grandmother could feel just how important she is to all of us. I can't think of a better way to have spent the day.

Now, on to that chore...

Tidying Up

I have spent the past couple of hours clearing out my office/guest room/storage space. 5 bags of garbage and 2 more of clothes for charity have left the building. I'm exhausted, but satisfied with the results. There's still a small pile in a corner which needs sorting, but first I need a little time to recoup. I have been trying to decide what to do with the books. I often re-read, and have wound up with a library of my own. There are some, however, which I feel I am able to let go of now. The question is, what to do with them? Most of them are paperback and therefore unacceptable as donations to local libraries and bookstores. I know about BookCrossing.com but there really isn't much participation in this rural area. In the end I suppose I will place them on a tarp in my front yard with a "Free Books" sign and hope for the best. I hate the thought of simply throwing them away.

And Then There's This

I can't guarantee its veracity. I tend to believe the majority of it because of the experiences a co-worker of mine went through during a march for peace in NYC at the start of the war. People don't believe this sort of thing happens because it didn't happen to them, and they don't want to believe it. I know I wish that I didn't live in a world where such things are possible. Unfortunately, I do. Anyway, here is a forwarded letter from the mother of a young woman unlawfully detained during the RNC:

Hello, supporters of peace. Here's an update on my daughter, Summer Starr,
and her ordeal as a prisoner in NYC during the Republican Convention -- in
the Republican Party lockdown at Little Guantanamo at Pier 57. Summer is now
free and back in Hawaii.

This is long, but read it if you have the time. There's an OPINION LETTER
that I emailed to the NY Times, LA Times, etc. -- I wrote it so that you
could feel free to email into your local publications, if you think they'd
have an interest -- plus here's info following the Opinion Letter -- a
report and update from the paper NEWSDAY that I just received from a friend
in NYC--
xoxo erin starr

onward and upward

******************************************

OPINION LETTER BY ERIN STARR

My 21-year old daughter disappeared from NYC last Tuesday afternoon when
walking with friends through a park where no protest was being held -- and
was held prisoner -- without being charged -- by the NYPD for three days.
The first day and night she spent in an unsafe and inhumane facility at Pier
57 ("Little Guantanamo") provided by the Republican Party.

Yes, it was managed by the Republican National Committee. It was leased by
the RNC to hold political dissenters who disagreed with the Bush
administration. The second two days, my daughter was in a city jail in
Manhattan, where her treatment improved. She practices Buddhist precepts of
compassion (she told the NYPD officers that she knew they must be tired and
overworked also, and she did not resist arrest). She is a graduate student
in Poli Sci at the University of Hawaii and is a MortarBoard honor
society/service club member.

The notorious Pier 57 (owned by the Hudson River Trust--a city/state
consortium) was dubbed "Little Guantanamo" by reporters who also got caught
up in police sweeps and who said it looked like the Guantanamo Bay prison
built by the USA ! to hold the Al Qaeda terrorist political prisoners in Cuba.
Pier 57 was leased by the RNC before their convention.

They arranged for the NYPD to put up the chain link holding pens with razor
wire on top in the old Pier 57 warehouse that had oil, gas and asbestos dust
on the floor from a previous fire. My heart was in my throat when I got a
call from one of my daughter's friends on Oahu who told me she had been
arrested and taken to Little Guantanamo. I looked it up on the internet and
fear crept into me.

I called my daughter's cell phone over and over ("it's mom, where ARE you,
call me"). She didn't answer.

Only hours before, she had been calling us with joy, telling us of the
peaceful protests and beautiful march. But now, nothing. I had nightmarish
visions of a fire sweeping over the combustible floor with hundreds --
nearly a thousand -- trapped in the chainlink pens, razor wire on the top of
the pens making escape impossible.

My husband called the NYPD to ask who had issued a Certificate of Occupancy
or Fire Safety Inspection Certificate and who was managing Pier 57. He was
given the number for the Republican National Committee.

Yes, My husband and I looked at each other in silent, cold horror.

In America? The Republicans have set up a private detention camp for their
political prisoners that can hold 1000 under inhumane and unsafe conditions!
My husband slowly dialed that number, got the RNC, and the Republican rep
who answered the phone said, in answer to my husband's inquiries about
safety: "those protesters don't deserve a Holiday Inn, and they're all
criminals anyway!" ....Say what?! My daughter, who doesn't smoke or drink
or do drugs and is a practicing Buddhist Vegan? A criminal?

Warning signs that reporters saw posted around Pier 57 said not to enter
without protective clothing and mask. My exhausted daughter, with hundreds
of others, tried to sleep that! first n ight ...on the chemical-covered oily,
cold cement floor of these pens, without food or water, without being read
her rights, without being offered a chance to post bail, without seeing a
judge although the National Lawyers Guild offered to represent them pro
bono, without being charged or told why she was arrested and handcuffed and
taken there, without being allowed to make a call to a lawyer or friend or
parent or anyone -- all cell phones were confiscated as "terrorist weapons."
Her purse was taken. She had nothing but the clothes on her back.

Meanwhile...ordinary criminals arrested that same day in NYC for burglary,
rape and heinous crimes were processed by the courts in less than 10 hours.
My daughter, who had committed no crime, was incarcerated for three days
incommunicado.

People suffered chemical burns, bug bites, overcrowding and medical
problems because their medicine was confiscated. A pregnant woman sat
crying on the floor in the oil. It wasn't until my daughter was taken out
of the Republican-managed "Little Guantanamo" and placed in a cell in a
Manhattan city jail that a guard kindly brought her Vegan food and gave her a blanket to lay her grime-smeared body on at night in her crowded cell.

I never thought I'd be grateful to get a call from a friend saying that my
daughter was in a Manhattan city jail cell, but the knowledge that she was
out of that Little Guantanamo actually gave me relief.

I called Hawaii's Republican Party Headquarters, and asked them to report it
to Hawaii's Governor Linda Lingle, who was at the convention in NYC and
could intervene for my daughter and other UH students incarcerated illegally
by her party. The Republican rep woman who answered the phone told me
"Linda knows, and you're blowing it all out of proportion."

Say What!! That's MY daughter, not YOURS, sitting in that
instant-conflagration-fire-trap at Pier 57! Well, thanks a BUNCH, Linda
Lingle. The UH students mean that LITTLE to you???

The Republicans wanted to "teach those protesters a lesson." They wanted to
terrorize my daughter. But the lesson that the hundreds and hundreds of
prisoners were taught... was not the one that the Republican Party intended,
I would wager. My daughter had gone to NYC to walk in the peaceful protest
of 500K people the day before the Republican National Convention began. She
was not engaged in protest at the time of her arrest. She had been walking
with friends near a park. There was no protest in action when they were
arrested along with tourists and city employees going to work.

Anyone caught in the NYPD orange fence netting was told to sit on the
ground, handcuffed, and pushed into large NYC busses. Our sweet daughter,
born and brought up in a small rainforest in Hawaii, was placed in detention
at Pier 57, the notorious "Little Guantanomo."

I recall that when the Democrats held their convention to nominate Senator
John Kerry as their candidate for President, there were only 6 people
arrested, if I remember correctly. At the Republican National Convention to elect Bush as their candidate, there were thousands arrested. I suspect that Republicans might say this was a good thing. Being tough. This group-roundup tactic is called by the Republican party "preventative detention" (like the "preemptive war" in Iraq). It is used to terrorize those who might protest Bush's agenda when he is in town.

America, wake up. Hitler told the German people that they would have to
"give up a few of your rights ...temporarily...so that we can fight the
enemy." That's what Ashcroft said, about the misnamed PATRIOT ACT.

Wake up, America. The American flag that proudly waves by MY front gate and
is on the back window of MY car...doesn't seem to be the same American flag
that the Republican Party is waving.

-- Erin Starr, Makaw ao, Maui, Hawaii

A Quote-Inspired Post, and Norman Mailer

"Truth often suffers more by the heat of its defenders than the arguments of its opposers." ~William Penn

I was lacking in inspiration tonight; exhaustion will do that to a person. In my quest to find something that meant something to me, I came across the above quote. It reminded me of a recent interview between Norman Mailer and his son, John Buffalo Mailer:
Father to Son: What I've Learned About Rage
A conversation between a man of legendary fury and his son preparing to go to the barricades about the uses and abuses of Bush hatred.
By Norman Mailer & John Buffalo Mailer

It seems to me that this is true, that the more passionately people protest- even in a just cause- the more resistance their cause meets in the media and the mainstream. Their passion is turned against them. Thus their cause is damaged rather than helped. This is most especially true in political venues, but may be found elsewhere as well. Though I didn't agree with everything in this article, I really respected what he had to say. His advice to protesters- of which I am sometimes one- I must concede is spot on.

For CoCo

This photo is dedicated to my friend CoCo, who has been going through a difficult time.

Nomination

After much consideration, I have come to the conclusion that I want Candidate Zero for president.

First Crossword Ready!

Try your hand at this interactive Agatha Christie crossword puzzle! The link opens a new browser window for your convenience.

*This puzzle was formatted using dhtml and requires IE5 or its equivalent. Alternately, you may find the grid with clues here. A link to the answers is provided.

If you are interested in creating something like this for yourself, you can download the free software from EclipseCrosswords.com .

A Couple of Quick Notes

I have downloaded software which will enable me to have crossword puzzles on this site. Thanks to Karmon for providing the link to this free download. I am currently creating an Agatha Christie crossword, feeling that it would be simplest to start with. Stay tuned; it will be up soon.

In other news, I have to get up in about 5.5 hours to take one of my dogs for surgery. She has a growth on her leg, resembling an extra toe, that has recently appeared and bubbled up rapidly. She's 9 and there's some cause for concern. We'll have to see what the test results show once the growth is removed. I'm nervous, and will post more when I have heard back from the vet's office later today.

The Birth of Venus

Sarah Dunant's first historical novel,-The Birth of Venus- captured the imagination and flowed smoothly, making it enjoyable to read. It was mystery, romance and history all rolled into one. Some of the characters remained a little two-dimensional and ultimately I was unhappy with the denouement. By that I mean that it was very well written, but that I wish the heroine made different choices. Also, one important plot thread involving her daughter and her lover was left unresolved. It's plaguing me now. That, however, is a sign of how well the author engaged me in her tale. Dunant, who up until now has focused on non-fiction, shows a lot of potential in this new genre and should be watched.

Final analysis: Good, but not exciting.

Remembering

Today my thoughts turn in two very different directions. It is my grandfather's birthday, and the third anniversary of the terrorist attacks in Pennsylvania, D.C. and New York. Two candles burn in my home to honor both the joyous and the tragic events.

Revealing Myself?

Ever wonder what I look like? Here I am! *G* No, I do not have a large, deformed butt; I had a sweatshirt wrapped around my waist. I was sitting on a cliff in Denali National Park, overlooking a 100' drop (approximate) to the river below. I have rarely felt so at peace. My thanks to my husband Randy for use of this photo.

Busy Behind the Scenes

This is not the finished product yet; I'm still playing around. I've been feeling creative and productive. On the other hand, I can't say I have done much around the house lately. I guess there has to be a balance. *L*

Switching things up

I've been making changes and cleaning house, metaphorically speaking. This site will be getting a new look soon. Archives from the past few years will no longer be available.

Artistic Discovery

I discovered Karla Morreira's beautiful artwork while visiting the gift shop at Alaska SeaLife Center in Seward. There are a couple of pieces I would love to have. I think they would be perfect in the log cabin. My particular favorites are "Blue Beary Moon" and "Wolven Bronze Alpha Female." I also loved her marine and dragonfly paintings, and would consider buying some of them as well if I could afford to.

Can't Change the Internal Clock

Since I have returned from Alaska, I am a complete insomniac. This must stop. :0P