Another Brick in the Wall

While I realize that cogs play an important role in the working of a piece of machinery, I'm tired of being a cog.

For the past 20 years, I've been a quiet person with a quiet job leading a quiet life, and it's just not enough for me anymore. I want to BE somebody, ya know? I want to impact the world in such a bright way that for years and years, people will recall my name. I don't want to be famous (or infamous); I just want to be remembered for doing good.

I don't want to do good with the explicit purpose of being remembered, because that sounds like it's all for the wrong reasons - like when celebs do something charitable while making sure the cameras are rolling. It would just be neat to be such a wonderful example of do-goodery that people would say, "We're really glad she was around to do what she did." I guess that sounds egotistical in a way, which is unfortunate because that's not how I'm meaning to come across. Charitable works would be their own reward for me, and it would be a true gift to know I made someone's life easier, maybe even inspired him/her to turn around and do something good for someone else.

Don't get me wrong. I don't find fault with leading a solid life. Cog-like people form the backbone of society; without them, this machine called Life would grind to a creaky halt, and I am grateful to the folks who perform their duties day in and day out. I just don't want this for myself anymore, after so many years.

I have no delusions that I'll become the next Shakespeare or Gandhi or Mother Theresa. But, to paraphrase the words of Mufasa from The Lion King, I want to be more than what I've become. I know there is so much more inside of me, so much I'm capable of doing for the good of the planet. I nearly feel like I'll burst sometimes with the want of making a difference.

But, like so much in my life right now, the question boils down to "How?" How do I make an impact? What do I do, what direction do I take? How best do I use my skills and my passions to make my dreams a reality? How do I turn this flame inside me into a roaring fire that consumes me and drives me forward to do what I'm meant to do?

I fall victim to the erroneous thought that a simple act can make no difference. It's always "all or nothing" for me - I have to save the entire world; otherwise, why bother? It's ridiculously short-sighted, I know, but it seems to be how I'm wired, and I need to retrain my psyche to think differently.

I'm currently reading a book called Me to We, and it's turned me on my head. You know you're in trouble when you're only on page 14 and already you're reading the story of Kim Phuc, who's most famously known as the "Girl in the Picture" - Vietnamese child, running screaming toward the camera, naked, her clothes burned off by napalm, her skin starting to fall off in black and pink chunks. Ye gods, how can you read this and not want to do Something? How can you not be changed by it?

The book is filled with stories of regular people doing simple acts that have swelled into wondrously wide-spread kindness. I haven't yet been able to get it through my skull that hey, if these folks can do it, why not me?



(And although I'm not a fan of Pink Floyd, considering I used one of their song titles as my post title, I have to ask: How can you have any pudding if you don't eat yer meat?)

Time in a Bottle

I dreamed last night that I was on a train with Tommy. The door of the train was open, and Tommy was crouched beneath a seat near the back of the train, and my sole purpose for the entire length of the dream was to keep Tommy was getting out. I knew I would be broken-hearted if that happened. He never escaped, but I still woke up with a broken heart.

It's been nearly three years since his death, and I miss my little guy. From the first moment he gazed up at me with a look of "What took you so long?" he was my furry soulmate. He was a part of my heart and my soul in ways I just can't explain and today, for whatever reason, I am feeling the gaping, jagged hole that was created the moment the light disappeared from his eyes.

I try to comfort and to cheer myself with all of the good memories of him - his sweet face, the little tippy-toe dance of his back feet, how he would lay beside me draped over my arm at night, my husband-to-be saying "Goodbye, Piggles" before he left for work each morning. But it gets obscured with my pressing guilt of not spending more time with him, of not knowing he was so sick.

I'm sorry, Tommy. I'm sorry that you had to spend so much time alone. I'm sorry that you had to suffer before the end. And even though I'm grateful for the time we had, I'm sorry that we only had 13 years together.

I just wish we could have one more moment together so I could hug you and tell you I'm sorry. I guess I'll have to be content with raining my tears upon the wings of Raven, the celestial messenger, and asking him to fly my message to you, wherever you are.

I miss you, little Piglet.

Hell Hath No Fury

I am an angry person. For all of my soft-heartedness (Disney movies and most Animal Planet shows make me cry), I am generally a smoldering pit of rage most of the time.

I was reading an article the other day and the author said she got road rage while walking. My first thought was not "Wow, this chick's got some issues." My first thought was "Wow, that sounds a lot like me."

Why so angry, bubby? In the words of Karen from Will & Grace, what's the problem, what's happening, what's going on?

It was Sartre who said, "Hell is other people." Therein, I believe, lies the answer to my question: Other People. Others is who gets my goat - Humankind. Not my friends, mind you, but the Populace in General.

There are exceptions, of course, but humans have pretty much gotten dumber and more self-centered and more oblivious and more de-evolved as the years have passed.

More and more, I encounter grocery carts left in the middle of an aisle or laid crossways at the end of an aisle, effective blocking passage for everyone else. It's like trying to navigate between Scylla and Charybdis sometimes, and all I want is a damned box of Cheez-Its. Of course, if I were to take some sort of gentle corrective action - like, say, smash my cart into these idiots' carts with the force of two bighorn sheep ramming heads - *I* would be looked on as the rude one.

Louie Anderson said his father would growl at the public while driving. I growl too - if by "growl," you actually mean "yell." Dennis Miller said that being on the road with other drivers is like being a part of a suicide/homicide pact of which you're not aware, and I fully agree. I sometimes get the sense that some of the people around me have been lobotomized, a procedure which has actually improved their IQ. If you are the first person in line in an arrow-lighted turn lane, and the arrow turns green, for the love of all that's holy, GO!! GO GO GO GO GO!! It doesn't get any greener, and it doesn't stay green long, so GO!

I guess I shouldn't be surprised. We're in this downward spiral where "Me" is so much more important than "We," where obliviousness to the fact that other people inhabit the Earth is nearly imprinted now in our DNA, where nothing else matters but what *I* need to do and where *I* need to go and what *I* need to have.

I'm not like that, so I imagine that's where my rage against the human race originates. I assume/expect that people will be considerate and attentive - like me - and when they don't meet my expectations, I go off the deep end.

I don't think my expectations are really all that unattainable. Don't you think courtesy should be second nature? Or is that too much to ask these days?

Regrets, I Have A Few

Spike TV has recently obtained the rights to the STAR WARS movies so of course they've rebroadcast the films numerous times already. I happened to catch the last ten minutes of Return of the Jedi last night, and it made me recall seeing the movie for the first time in 1983.

Instead of being joyous like the dancing, bouncing Ewoks, I was in tears. I had grown up with these characters, gotten emotionally invested in them, and it hurt quite a great deal to know that I'd never see them in new adventures again. [And then Lucas not only screwed up the trilogy - Episodes 4-6 - by making "improvements," he hung the horrible saga - Episodes 1-3 - on us like an albatross around our necks. Aye, that's a huge regret for me, but it wasn't one of my creation, so it doesn't really count.]

As I was ruminating last night, it struck me that I was only 15 when I saw ROTJ. A young, naive kid who had no idea what the next 25 years would bring. And those 25 years have brought along some regrets:

...that I didn't go to college when I was younger.
...that I didn't take better care of myself.
...that I wasn't more outgoing in school.
...that I wasn't better about saving money.
...that I didn't spend more time with Tommy and that I didn't catch his tumor while it was still treatable.
...that I spent so much time/energy/resources after developing a huge crush on a Hollywood bonehead.
...that I didn't tell Dad to pass on having chemo treatments.
...that I didn't keep playing music in some form.
...that I never learned to play piano.

But even if I had the opportunity to go back and talk to my younger self, would I tell her about any of this? In sci-fi, you hear so much about "polluting the timeline" - would telling her these regrets cause her to make changes that would have a ripple effect?

If I'd gone to college, perhaps I'd never have met Melissa, my best friend. If I'd never met her, I may've never moved to Texas. If I hadn't moved to Texas, maybe I'd never have met my husband-to-be. Granted, some of those things might've happened regardless...but I don't know that for sure. Life isn't one of those "choose your adventure" books - if you don't like the outcome, you can't instantly go back to page 3 where you're safe and sound. If you choose to open the door and there's a monster behind it, well, game over, man.

So I'm not sure what good having regret is, if you wouldn't go back and change anything, even if you could. Maybe it's value is more proactive than retroactive - it helps you make changes going forward, so you don't continue doing things you regret.

As Master Yoda said, "Always in motion is the future." Very good advice from a very sage Dagobavian.

When I'm Queen...

People who are guilty of DWI/DUI will be shot. I'm getting damned sick and tired of the news stories where someone drives drunk and kills someone else. There is NO reason to drive drunk. NONE. If you enter a bar with the intention of having even ONE drink, you make it a solid, non-negotiable point to have a designated driver or some other way to get home. Why is this such a dificult concept?? Why do innocent people have to die because some idiot gets toasted and figures it's okay to drive in that condition? Just within the last few days here in Minnesota, a guy with four DWI convictions - FOUR!!! - was charged with murder because he finally managed to kill someone the fourth time. It's about damned time the murder charge came down on someone, who, let's face it, DID commit murder by piloting a two-ton wrecking ball down the road at 60 (or more) miles per hour while intoxicated. That's murder, if you ask me. I'm also getting sick and tired of the people who try to sue a bartender or drinking establishment because their precious just-turned-21 son or daughter drank him/herself to death, or left the bar so wasted that s/he fell into a lake and drowned. You know what? I'm sorry for their loss of a child BUT where's the personal responsibility here? Because gosh, *I* survived turning 21 just fine - didn't drink myself to an alcohol-poisoned death while celebrating that momentous occasion. Turning 21 is a rite of passage - but so is dying. I was careful to make choices that would allow me to stick with the former.

People who abuse animals will be subjected to the same torture they used on the animal. You dragged a kitten by a shoelace tied around its neck, broke its leg, and burned it with a cigarette? You just signed yourself up for being fitted with a noose and having a few intense meetings with a sledgehammer and a blowtorch. You put a puppy in the microwave? Sayonara, Mr. JiffyPop. You shot an arrow into a horse used in therapy with developmentally disabled individuals? Robin Hood and his longbow will be paying you a visit. Animals, especially young ones, are helpless and vulnerable, and if you are enough of a heinous monster to do evil to them, you will be terminated in the same evil - but fitting - manner.

Politicians who start unjust wars will be tried for war crimes. Hello, Bush and Cronies? To quote Denis Leary from the old MTV spots: I think you hear me knocking, and I think I'm coming in. Better still....

Wars will be abolished. If you can't sit down like mature adults and discuss your issues, get the hell off my planet.

Marijuana will be legalized. Why not? It's probably no worse for you than alcohol and if it's legal, you can regulate and tax it. Same standards of not driving while high would apply, of course. I find it highly hypocritical that we'll shove alcohol down people's throats (figuratively speaking - watch a sporting event and count how many ads there are for beer), but marijuana, which has medical applications, is a no-no. Betcha if Big Tobacco started growing the stuff, it would become legal damned quick.

Gay marriage will be legal across the nation. The idea of "marriage" should not be based on some archaic nonsense from a book [that would be the Bible] to which not everyone subscribes. George Takei (Sulu from "Star Trek") has been with his partner for 21 years - TWO DECADES - but he's not allowed to unite with this person and to receive the same benefits that married couples receive? But we'll allow people like Britney Spears to crazily flap in and out of marriage like a demented seagull with an inner ear infection and a broken wing? What's wrong with this picture?

Elderly people will be given much more assistance than they now receive. They would not die in their homes because they couldn't afford to turn on the heat or the air conditioning. They would have access to affordable medication and health care. Nursing homes and assisted-living facilities would carry out extremely rigorous background checks on employees to weed out the abusers.

Prospective parents will be required to pass a psych test and/or obtain a license before having a child. It won't catch all of the abusers, nutjobs, or otherwise unfit parents but maybe it'll catch a few. You need a license to drive, to hunt or to fish, to get married - but none to have a child, whom you could screw up to the point that he becomes another Ted Bundy/Charles Manson/Hitler. You need a license before you can go out and shoot a deer. But hey, you're free and clear if you want to have a kid to abuse or molest or allow to die because you stuck him in a bathtub and then went downstairs to shop online for shoes because you're too fucking stupid to be trusted with the care of a rock, much less a child.

Automobiles will be constructed so that speeding were impossible. With the exception of emergency responders, there's no reason that people need to drive faster than the speed limit. With gas prices going sky-high, one would think that drivers would drive so that they would conserve fuel, wouldn't one? Every day when I'm on the road, doing the speed limit (which during some of my drive is 65 mph), people blow by me like I'm standing still - and these are usually people in gas-guzzling SUV's which, if you go fast enough, probably get NEGATIVE miles to the gallon. These are the same people who will whine about gas prices while outrunning the speed limit, roaring up to red lights with slamming brakes, and then jack-rabbiting off the line once the light turns green. I want to get some of that car window paint and write SLOW THE FUCK DOWN on my back window...but I work at a church and I'm not sure that would go over well with the flock.

Recycling will be mandatory. It's sad to think that you almost have to FORCE humankind to stop fouling its own nest. We may have a bigger and more highly developed brain than our furry brethren, but we're morons. Where the hell do we expect to GO once we've destroyed this planet? I almost wish I'd be around to see the day when Earth simply says, "Okay, everyone out of the pool" and people extinct themselves. I believe Germany already implements a waste management process whereby you pay per pound of trash - throw a lot away, feel it in the pocketbook. Recycle most of your waste, put more cash back in your pocket.

I'm sure I have other edicts that I would enact, but I can't think of them at the moment. I realize that some of these ideas are quite radical but you know, desperate times call for radical measures, I think. People don't seem to get the hint when they only receive a slap on the wrist and will only fall in line after receiving a wallop to the back of the head.

I'm not naive enough to think these are perfect solutions. I know they have inherent snags because for every good intention, there could be an equally bad result. But I'm also not naive enough to think I'll ever be elected to the post of Queen of the World, so I don't think we have to worry about any of this coming to pass.

Kneel Down in the Moonlight

The title of this post [which is a line from a song by Martin Page] really has nothing to do with its content; I just like the phrase and this seemed as good a place as any to trot it out. Then again, maybe it will eventually have something in common with the content. If I let my mind wander, instead of pulling back on its choke chain like I usually do, it very well may come into play.

Okay, this was a bit disconcerting. As I'm writing, I have the TV on and I'm watching the replay of the soccer match which took place in Moscow. Behind the sound of the announcers' voices, I hear "Take Me Home, Country Road" by John Denver playing over the loudspeakers at the stadium. In Moscow. How bizarre.

While sitting at work today, I had a strange but interesting notion. Someone had a pencil in her hand, and I was suddenly struck by the thought that, to me, pencils are comforting.

Being a curious Virgo, I immediately grabbed hold of it before it could slide by mostly unnoticed and I asked, "Why?"

Is it because I learned to write using a pencil, tracing letters in the notebook that had the wonderfully textured newsprint paper, making sure the curve of each "a" hit the dashed line sandwiched between the two solid lines? Is it because pencils are reassuring in that they come equipped with an eraser? Maybe it's because pencils are simple and low-tech - no running out of ink, no blots on the paper, no fretting over choices of "fine," "extra fine," or "medium." Or is it the lovely way the wood shaves into curls when you sharpen it? I'm sure this isn't exactly a question for the ages, but it was interesting to plumb its depths for a few minutes.

Speaking of plumbing the depths... My best friend Melissa also writes a blog and recently, she posted her to-do list - things she wants to accomplish before she moves on, a bucket list as it were. I thought, "Hey I should do that too!" ...and could hardly think of one thing for the list, much less 10 or 20 or 100.

It appears there's a hole in the bucket (list), dear Liza, dear Liza. And how incredibly sad is that? To come up blank when faced with the idea of jotting down my dreams? Why is it easier to list the things I have to do, not the things I want to do? When did the wide-eyed kid, the piece of me with all the fanciful notions, go missing? Is she dead or merely comatose?

In an attempt to prompt her recovery (or resurrection), I'll list the things I did think of:

Visit Ireland
Learn to play drums
Become a wildlife educator
Grow sunflowers
Visit Maine/Vermont/New Hampshire, preferably by train
Write a novel
Take the train across Canada

That's all I've got...for now.

My Name is Jill...and I'm a Scanner

For those of you who haven't read Barbara Sher's book "Refuse to Choose," a Scanner is a person who wants to nibble daintily from that box of chocolates called Life - first, half of a caramel, then the corner of a nougat - rather than ramming her head inside and wolfing down the entire lot. [People with THAT predilection are called Divers.]

I'm glad to realize that there's an actual NAME for this type of trait. I thought I had A.D.D. because I would get just so far into a particular topic/hobby...and then I'd completely lose interest and want to move onto something else...which I would also lose interest in at some point...and the cycle would continue. I didn't (still don't) have stick-to-it-iveness, and I thought there was something wrong with me. Thank the Maker for Barbara's book! It's nice to know that I'm not alone in this.

But putting a name to my condition doesn't solve the inherent challenges of being a Scanner. Being as the gods haven't seen their way clear to giving my husband and I winning lottery numbers, I have to work for a living, much of which requires doing the same damned thing every single damned day. For a Scanner, this is soooo not cool.

Recently, I've been having an internal struggle about things. I find my current job obscenely boring, and this drains me to the point where I have no energy left once I get home. Being exhausted doesn't make me want to do anything fun - stuff that might recharge my batteries. It's a vicious circle - I'm exhausted from work, which keeps me from doing something I would enjoy, which keeps me from recharging my spirit, which keeps me exhausted.

I feared that I was simply lazy, and that was the reason I did nothing while I was at home. It's a relief to think that perhaps my inactivity springs from my exhaustion, not from being lazy. If I thought I were lying to myself about this, today was a good witness for the defense. Before I went to work, I had all kinds of energy, thinking, "When I get home, I'll work out in the yard and clean off the table and write out bills, etc., etc." Once I got home, I went right for a chair and the TV. Coincidence? I think not.

This, of course, dovetails into the whole "What is my passion in life?" conundrum. If I found my passion and was able to do it for a living, would it help? Or would I just get bored with it in a couple years and have to move onto something else? And would that really be so bad? As a Virgo, I like stability and security, and the thought of changing jobs every few years makes me itch.

It's very confusing, makes me feel like a snake who's swallowed her own tail.

You Know You're Getting Older...and Other Stuff

Comedian Louie Anderson said "You know you're getting older when the first thing you do after eating [Thanksgiving dinner] is look for a place to lay down."

For me, I know I'm getting older when I get excited about the delivery of a new washing machine, an event which occurred last Friday. [Although I guess I don't feel too badly because the delivery guy said that people are the most thrilled when he drops a washer or dryer on their doorstep.] Honestly though, it was like being a kid and getting an Easy-Bake Oven for Christmas.

Speaking of Easy-Bake Ovens...there was an incident a few months ago where a kid got burned because she stuck her hand into the baking chamber. Okay, if a kid is stupid enough to do this and the parents were too busy/lazy/moronic to actually tell their child it's a bad idea to stick your hand into the baking chamber...I can't say that I feel much sympathy. Sounds cruel, I suppose, but people these days are too fond of not taking personal responsibility for their idiocy. I'm sure someone got sued over this case. If I had been the judge, I would've thrown it out immediately and made the parents pay for any incurred legal fees.

Because, gee, I had an Easy-Bake Oven as a child and the only thing it gave me were delicious little dessert treats, not second-degree burns. Then again, I wasn't dopey enough to think it would be a good idea to shove my hand inside either. Are children getting dumber or was I just an exceptionally intelligent child?

Dust in the Wind

Driving home, I heard Kansas' "Dust in the Wind." The DJ made a comment that he felt the song was depressing.

I beg to differ.

The line "Don't hang on/Nothing lasts forever but the earth and sky" is actually quite comforting, if you think about it. Granted, if you frame your reference to that line in "Oh gods, I'm going to die one day," well, yeah, that might be a downer. But for me, that line is soothing because it tells me that NOTHING - good or bad - lasts forever. Things are going bad and it sucks but hey, it won't last forever, so chin up, things will get better.

I highly doubt that was Kansas' thought when writing that song and that particular line, but that's how I perceive it.

Eight Belles

Rest in peace, sweet filly.

Thank you for running such a gallant race against the boys.

I hope wherever you are now, you're racing through sun-dappled meadows without a care in the world, running for the sheer joy of it.

Merry meet and merry part and merry meet again.

One Moment in Time

I was lying awake in bed yesterday morning, not thinking about anything in particular, and something wonderfully peculiar happened.

Surrounded by the lazy cats on all sides with my husband sleeping beside me, I had a shining moment of contentment. It didn't last long, streaking through my consciousness like a shooting star in the night, but it was glorious. No worry, no fear, no wondering about this or that. Just...peace and warmth.

Pretty cool.

Neon Sign

So I went to this website that I had bookmarked quite a while back but hadn't visited in a long time: www.wisdomology.com.

They have a featured question section (I would imagine the question changes daily), and I clicked on it.

The question of the day was "What is your passion in life?"

Apparently this is something to which I'm supposed to give some thought.

Follow Your Bliss

That phrase, spoken by the wonderful Joseph Campbell, has come to haunt me in the past few years.

What is my bliss? Should I be alarmed that the answer doesn't come to me as easily and quickly as the snap of my fingers? Why doesn't it come easily to me? What is it about being an adult that completely destroys one's sense of freedom and ease and fluidity of thought?

When you're a kid, you can be anything and do anything, and there's never an internal voice that pours icy water over those dreams. You make up stories on the fly without even thinking about how silly they seem - they just come out, and it's okay.

I think of what my bliss career-wise would be, and it's always the same: "I would like to do this BUT..." "I would like to do that BUT..." There's always an addendum, a caveat, a wet-floor sign.

A few months ago, it came to me that I'd like to become a wildlife educator. I'm quite passionate about animals, and I know that the best way to protect animals is to educate people - kids and adults alike - so they'll gain a respect for Nature and, hopefully, want to protect it. Okay, this is good, got a plan, here we go.

I looked into a home-study Conservation program. It wasn't unreasonably expensive and, although it probably wouldn't allow me to jump right into a career, it would be a good base for further education and would at least get me going in the right direction. Not soon after I got this information, one of our cats needed some medical care that was expensive...then our old furnace died right in the middle of winter...then my husband's car required repairs that weren't cheap.

So much for outlaying any money for school.

My current job is boring me to tears, and has for quite some time, so I told myself that once the pastor got back from his five-month sabbatical in May, I'd start actively looking for a new job. The day after Easter, I found out my husband is going to be laid off within the next 12 months, so I almost don't dare trying to jump jobs.

Rather than acting the victim, I'm curious to know why the Universe is guiding me toward a different path than the one I was trying to choose.