Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Assholes, Idiots and Morons and the Weekend
Why, you ask, do we have so many laws in this country? Because assholes abound, and we are infested with idiots and morons without manners (yes, I love alliteration.)
Listen and learn if you are one of these people. Commiserate with me if you are afflicted by them.
The asshole I am referring to today is the deaf twiddle who thinks I want to hear the crappy, banging, shit coming from his gangsta-wanna-be SUV. You just are not cool. You are an asshole.
The idiot who crossed my path nearly ran into me because she took her eyes off the road to shove her handsfree earpiece into her brainless skull. It means handsfree from you phone not from the steering wheel. You are an idiot.
The moron without manners strolled around the grocery store subjecting me to his side of his phone conversation. Take your private life home and chastise your wife about her troubles with the neighbors in private. You have no manners. You are a moron.
Phew, I feel better.
I am headed for the high hills. Tomorrow, I am off to the mountains for three full days of trees. I won’t be back until Monday afternoon. I am so looking forward to the piece and quiet. Falling asleep to a babbling brook. Shooting some arrows. Walking. Reading. Writing the old fashioned way. No computer. No Internet. Will I survive? Yes, I think I’ll manage. Write lots of good things for me to read when I get back. Have a great weekend everyone.
Listen and learn if you are one of these people. Commiserate with me if you are afflicted by them.
The asshole I am referring to today is the deaf twiddle who thinks I want to hear the crappy, banging, shit coming from his gangsta-wanna-be SUV. You just are not cool. You are an asshole.
The idiot who crossed my path nearly ran into me because she took her eyes off the road to shove her handsfree earpiece into her brainless skull. It means handsfree from you phone not from the steering wheel. You are an idiot.
The moron without manners strolled around the grocery store subjecting me to his side of his phone conversation. Take your private life home and chastise your wife about her troubles with the neighbors in private. You have no manners. You are a moron.
Phew, I feel better.
I am headed for the high hills. Tomorrow, I am off to the mountains for three full days of trees. I won’t be back until Monday afternoon. I am so looking forward to the piece and quiet. Falling asleep to a babbling brook. Shooting some arrows. Walking. Reading. Writing the old fashioned way. No computer. No Internet. Will I survive? Yes, I think I’ll manage. Write lots of good things for me to read when I get back. Have a great weekend everyone.
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
Da Vinci, Tarot and Past Lives
This is in response to Jenn's post. (Go read her posts. She writes beautifully.) My comments were getting too long and I had nothing else to write about, so now I have a post. Thanks, Jenn. Yippee.
I always thought as the perfect Human (and God, simultaneously) it would be ok for Jesus to be married and have children. My opinion is if you haven’t experienced sex, one of our more fundamental drives, how can you be fully human?
I did read The Da Vinci Code, but have not seen the movie yet. The book was an easy read and the entire plot and ending were predictable.
I had heard this idea many years ago, too. I read the Nag Hammadi texts maybe 20 years ago, along with books on the Essenes, Jesus studying Zoroastrianism, and studying in India and China during his “lost” years. Although fun and interesting, I don’t think any of it matters either.
A friend of mine wanted to learn to read Tarot cards. She didn’t want to go alone and since my great grandmother read cards, I said I’d go with her and learn, too. Well, my friend quit, I didn’t. So among my other talents, I read cards. I’ve discovered some very odd things about people while reading for them. The main benefit to me was that I began trusting my intuition again.
For a while, I got paid to read. Every Saturday, I’d go to this metaphysical bookstore and turn cards for customers; not a bad way to make extra cash for a single mom and I developed quite a following.
This one woman, let’s call her Betty (not her real name), was very addicted to all of the New Age stuff. She had her cards read a minimum of once a week, sometimes two and three (not by me, I wouldn’t read for any one more than once a month.) So, Betty had gone to a gypsy to have a reading for past life regression. Betty was beside herself with joy because it turns out that she was Marilyn Monroe reincarnated. I had the lovely duty of informing Betty, born in 1958, that she could not be Marilyn, as Marilyn died in 1962.
People who had pastlife regressions were always kings and queens. Popular ones were Cleopatra, Napoleon, Pharaohs, and the like. I had mine done. One of my lives went as follows: I was born to a peasant family in an area of the Black Forest in Germany around the 1200’s. There was famine, little work; we were homeless and traveling to find a better place. My parents had several other children. I wasn’t too bright so I was fed last. When food became almost non-existent, I was left by the side of the road and I starved to death at the age of eight. Glamorous, huh?
I always thought as the perfect Human (and God, simultaneously) it would be ok for Jesus to be married and have children. My opinion is if you haven’t experienced sex, one of our more fundamental drives, how can you be fully human?
I did read The Da Vinci Code, but have not seen the movie yet. The book was an easy read and the entire plot and ending were predictable.
I had heard this idea many years ago, too. I read the Nag Hammadi texts maybe 20 years ago, along with books on the Essenes, Jesus studying Zoroastrianism, and studying in India and China during his “lost” years. Although fun and interesting, I don’t think any of it matters either.
A friend of mine wanted to learn to read Tarot cards. She didn’t want to go alone and since my great grandmother read cards, I said I’d go with her and learn, too. Well, my friend quit, I didn’t. So among my other talents, I read cards. I’ve discovered some very odd things about people while reading for them. The main benefit to me was that I began trusting my intuition again.
For a while, I got paid to read. Every Saturday, I’d go to this metaphysical bookstore and turn cards for customers; not a bad way to make extra cash for a single mom and I developed quite a following.
This one woman, let’s call her Betty (not her real name), was very addicted to all of the New Age stuff. She had her cards read a minimum of once a week, sometimes two and three (not by me, I wouldn’t read for any one more than once a month.) So, Betty had gone to a gypsy to have a reading for past life regression. Betty was beside herself with joy because it turns out that she was Marilyn Monroe reincarnated. I had the lovely duty of informing Betty, born in 1958, that she could not be Marilyn, as Marilyn died in 1962.
People who had pastlife regressions were always kings and queens. Popular ones were Cleopatra, Napoleon, Pharaohs, and the like. I had mine done. One of my lives went as follows: I was born to a peasant family in an area of the Black Forest in Germany around the 1200’s. There was famine, little work; we were homeless and traveling to find a better place. My parents had several other children. I wasn’t too bright so I was fed last. When food became almost non-existent, I was left by the side of the road and I starved to death at the age of eight. Glamorous, huh?
Sunday, May 21, 2006
Show Me Sunday - Sundries
For those of you waiting with bated breath, Storytime will be updated later today. My husband and I had other things to do yesterday *wink, wink*.
Here's some of my fantastic photography for you.
Notice the frosty bottle of Bombay. This is why I must start behaving myself or start going to confession again. I can't go to hell. The Devil doesn't keep his gin in the freezer.
This is my work buddy, Oscar. He says nice things to me when I'm ready to stick the knife in my solar plexis and draw upwards.
This was my first rose. I can't take credit for it. But it's still mine, all mine.
And this is the shiny prezzie I bought myself last week. I like the glittery butterflies.
Here's some of my fantastic photography for you.
Notice the frosty bottle of Bombay. This is why I must start behaving myself or start going to confession again. I can't go to hell. The Devil doesn't keep his gin in the freezer.
This is my work buddy, Oscar. He says nice things to me when I'm ready to stick the knife in my solar plexis and draw upwards.
This was my first rose. I can't take credit for it. But it's still mine, all mine.
And this is the shiny prezzie I bought myself last week. I like the glittery butterflies.
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