Would You?

I had a dream last night about moving stones being a sign of a miracle of sorts. But the end game looked really horrific from the outside looking in.

Let me try to explain the dream, then where my head was when I went to sleep, and then what I think about it all.

There was an historical site. A stone path that had been set down during a war (?) or just a time in history when there was fascist rule. It wasn't Nazism and the reason I know this is because it was accepting of homosexuals. And the Nazis executed anyone who was homosexual. But it was definitely fascism of some sort. But anyway, each stone represented groups that were included in the reign. If you didn't have a stone in the path you weren't a part of it.

Over the years that it had been out of power the stones had been shattered. In the dream those bits of stone were on the move.

The stones are moving.

This was the almost religious chant that you would hear places. "The stones are moving."

And they were. Seemingly on their own the stones were moving away from the others to reform and make a new path and patterns.

A miracle in action.

Now there was a lot of arguing, remember these stones were originally put there by fascist who killed people who didn't agree with them.  So as groups started to coalesce around the moving stones there were other groups who said, no. This is not okay. Because as the stones were seen as a miracle the old philosophy behind who put them there was reviving with it.

And as I was waking up I thought, What would you do to belong? To be special?

Because I see that a lot. The longing for belonging. I think a lot of extremist groups feed that and nurture that. What would you ignore? What would you dismiss? What would you accept just to belong to a group that promoted you as special?

Yesterday afternoon a friend had posted a meme. It was incorrect and me being me posted a link to what was wrong with it. Which led to another friend of theirs saying I shouldn't selectively point out truth because it's more complicated than that. After a little bit of back and forth I just posted Okay and left the discussion. Okay from me very rarely means I think you are right. It generally just means I'm done with this discussion. Depending on how heated the discussion got it translates to "there is no real discussion happening here so I am out" or "Fuck you." People who know me know which one they just got.

But anyway, it was, to me, a ridiculous point to make. Facts always matter. Even when you agree with tone of the message, the point they were making, the facts have to matter. If they don't then lying doesn't matter. And if lying doesn't matter then we are all lost. And yes I say that knowing full well that we have a Liar in Chief right now and I still think it matters.

So there was that part.

And then there was the shooting in New Zealand. As it started to unfold I thought, if that were here it would be an angry young white man who had been radicalized by the far right. Well it wasn't here but that's who it was. And he left a manifesto so we know that's what happened. American Terrorism export.

There were details that really bothered me. He live streamed it. So there are recordings out there of him slaughtering people in their house of worship. And those videos will be watched and shared and he will be lionized in a part of the world. He will be a hero to them.

It also bothers me when it's a house of worship. Schools and churches bother me more than any other place. Because we are our most vulnerable or send our most vulnerable to those places. I'm an atheistically leaning agnostic and it still hits me hard when it's a place of worship. But this is where people who you hate can be found. For the confederate wanna be it was an historical black church, for anti-semites it's temples, for radicalized alt-right it's mosques. You know you are going to find gatherings of people you hate in these places. At their most vulnerable.

And again, why do people join religions? To belong. We all are just looking for a place to belong.

So as I went to bed last night I was thinking about terrorism, I was thinking about the world we live in. I was thinking about how it's all so messed up.

And in my dreams the stones moved. And I asked what would you do to feel like you belonged? And what would you do if there were others telling you that you are special, that you are better than, that you are more important? Would you follow? Would you take your place in line? Would you be so glad that you are part of the #blessed that you ignored what was happening to everyone else?

This morning watching my friends react to the news I am heartened that they aren't falling in line. That they are horrified. That hearts are breaking. Even if it's not "us" because it is us. We are all us. And we need to make sure we understand that. Because there are others out there that are okay with what happened. I saw a comment today from someone with hash tag I stand with the shooter. Because "they" are the enemy. This was a comment on a friends post:

 The outrage?

What do people expect?

People being murdered all over Europe by them, children being murdered at concerts by them, they did nothing to stop it, hiding their criminals at their mosques.

I’m not saying I condone it, I am saying it was coming.

I told him he was an asshole. And that I might not condone the language but that he had it coming. (And we all know that the language I would have condoned would have had the work fuck in there. You are a fucking asshole, so I was truthful)

We need to be US now more than ever. All of us. People want a sense of belonging and if we let the factions pick off and radicalize the vulnerable these things will still happen.

I could get into the whole cycle of terrorism and what I believe the US has done to perpetuate it and now play both sides of it. But what I really would like to see is those of us who aren't in the government band together, to say no more. To not put up with people we know saying shitty generalized things about other religions. To push back when the "special" talk comes up. And to listen to people who need listened to so they don't go find those fringes.

We all just want a sense of belonging. Let's stop radicalizing people and start to heal.

Please.

Ugh...

So...this is a whining post because I am feeling whiny and I want to get it out of my head so I can stop feeling whiny and move on. Feel free to skip it. It's okay, I'm tired of listening to myself whine as well.

Our last day in Hawaii I hurt my hand. It was a really windy day and that made the waves a little stronger than they had been. We went kayaking in the morning and the cove where we launch from that used to be smooth sand is now slick rocks due to storm activity. Which is actually really cool. The entire landscape changed from how intense the waves had been. Brought up all of these black rocks and lined the beach with them. Really pretty, but a little harder to maneuver.

Anyway...

As I was getting into the kayak a sneak wave lifted me and the boat up then dropped us down. The boat being a boat was fine, me being a klutz hit the slick rocks and lost my footing a bit. So instead of plopping into the kayak as I normally would, my hand caught the edge of the seat and I landed really awkwardly. I sucked in my breath in that hissy sort of way and thought, "well that's gonna leave a mark." And then proceeded to row against the wind for two hours.

And honestly, it was mostly fine while I was rowing. I couldn't wrap my thumb around the paddle, had to grip it with just fingers mostly, but it was fine. Enough that Brent had no idea I was hurt. Cause I'm a beast.

So after rowing and then sitting still it got more and more sore. I thought for a little bit that I might have actually broken it. But since it was our last day in Hawaii I didn't want to spend it getting x-rays and decided just to wait and see.

I waited a week. It was a little better but not as better as I thought it should be. There were still moments where I thought I might cuss when the thumb got pushed back. So I went to the doctor who didn't think it was broken, just slow to heal because of the nerve damage from the bee sting and the 50 year old body not healing as fast as it used to.

So I waited a little longer. And it got better. But still not all better. Couldn't really lift weights because I had no grip with my thumb and worse, pain if I moved it wrong and you don't want to be holding something heavy over you head and have a sharp pain happen, that tends to make you drop things so no bueno.

I finally ordered a brace to stabilize the thumb and give it a little bit of protection to finish healing. Which was great! Now I could lift weights again. Lighter weights than normal for sure, but still. So Monday back in the gym! Yay! I do my first set of exercises and yes, they are lighter weights, and yes it took a bit of figuring out on the hold, but still I did it and can do it and this is great. On to the next exercise. Bent over rows.

So I bend over, lift the barbell, lower the barbell, lift the barbell, lower the barbell, lift the barbell...oh holy fuck what was that?

ZING POP in my right lower back. Just a spot and then the feeling like a rock thrown in to a pond of rippling out pain. Oh shit...

Put the barbell back, sit on the bench and try to stretch, or move, or relax or...okay, maybe this will be fine. Not going to try the bent over rows again but maybe I can still do other things. Pick up a set of dumbells that are significantly lower than I would normally use and start to do a shoulder press and my right side says, "Bitch, did you listen? I said, No!"

So that was it.

Brent drove me home and I spent a very slow day sitting, stretching, slow walking, sitting and stewing in my own FUCK THIS juices.

I've been on the edge of manic (big manic) for awhile, and it's been fine. But working out helps me regulate my mood. A lot. It keeps me from getting to be too much in either direction. I really miss my workouts. I can notice when I'm not working out, especially when I go back a read status updates or blogs. No workouts, no mood regulation. I know part of the bad mood is pain. Pain makes us all cranky. But I also know part of the bad mood is a little bit of fear. I don't want to lose my hard earned gains. I don't want to get in the habit of NOT working out. That's an easy habit to get in to. Especially when that alarm goes off and you just want to stay in your warm snuggly bed. But I especially don't want to tip away from manic to the other side. It's not nearly as fun to live there.

Realistically I'm probably completely out a week. Then a week of slow cardio. Then easing back into lifting. So three weeks added to the 3 weeks I've been out due to vacation, snow, and injury. I'm frustrated.  And in pain. And I want a pan of brownies because of that. Which, of course, is a terrible idea because I can't work them back off. But I self medicate, and I just lost one of my medications so I want my old one back.

Ugh.

Basically, bottom line, keep Brent in your thoughts as I try and fail not to be snappish as I recover. He's already been great, taking care of me and of everything else. But I imagine that will take it's toll on him pretty quickly, especially since I am so frustrated and just want to bitch about it all and get over it quickly and he just wants me to sit down and rest and heal and stop being so stubborn.

So yeah, ugh.

But other than that...

We use this phrase in my family a lot. When there are just a list of things that are wrong with something. You are having a bad day, the dishwasher leaked, the washing machine blew up, the car got a flat tire, you fell down and twisted your ankle...but other than that it was a great day.

And it can be you or the person you are talking to that says it. Often we do it in a sort of round. One person is listing the bad things about something, (me) it gets bad gas mileage, it's not comfortable seating, the colors are ugly, it's expensive... (C chimes in) but other than that... (Brent repeats) Other than that...(I finish) But other than that it's a great car choice.

That's all I could think of yesterday when the Manafort sentencing came down. When he got four years instead of the recommended 24. When the judge listed his crimes out and said that other than those things he's led a blameless life.

What?

Other than the crimes he was just found guilty of? Oh and did you forget the other ones he will be sentenced on in Washington?

Other than all of the things that have brought you to trial you're fine.

What a crazy thing to say.

What a crazy thing to believe.

That other than being a criminal you've really done nothing wrong.

The best online comment I saw about it was other than all of the women he murdered Ted Bundy led a blameless life.

It's like when people talk about accused abusers and say, "Well he didn't abuse this woman so he couldn't have abused that one."

Again, there were a lot of people that interacted with Ted Bundy who lived to talk about it.

Other than the criminal things he did he led a blameless life.

Four years.

And in the sentencing the judge made sure to mention that the real victims in this set of criminal activity were the American people who were defrauded out of tax revenue.

Well, as an American I'd like the punishment to be a little stronger. If you defraud me out of millions of dollars I'm not thinking that four years is good. I don't care if you are 69. I don't care if the judge thinks all of your other crimes are no big. I don't care if your gout is acting up. You lobbied for dictators. You lied to the FBI. You lived a pretty sweet life on fraudulent funds for a lot of years. Other than that...

I don't believe that Trump will ever face justice for the things he's done and the "blameless life" line makes me believe even if he ends up in court there will be someone waiting to let him off the hook.

Because other than all of the things Trump has done and lied about doing and gotten caught lying about doing and then continued to do he's really led a blameless life.

Ewww...

I don't like spit.

It grosses me out when people spit on the ground. And especially when they do that hock up thing first. Like full body shudder gag reflex gross out.

Drooly dogs are pretty much off our adoption ever list. I can tolerate it a little better from a dog than a person, but it still is a full shower and clothes wash after dealing with a breed that drools.

When I'm sick and I need to spit out the phlegm it takes me a minute to brace myself.

I don't like spit.

Going to the dentist is a nightmare. Especially when they are doing something like what I had done today. The new crown. Your mouth is propped open, they are putting stuff in and out of your mouth constantly. You get that string of saliva from your teeth to whatever they are pulling out...

I don't like spit.

As Dr. Youngblood worked on taking out the old crown today and took all of the casts for the new one I did my best to breathe calmly and not get grossed out by the feeling of spit on my face. Yes, I know, it's my own spit, but ew.

And then I thought, this must be THAT moment for dentists in school. Can you deal with this?

Every profession that deals with human bodies has THAT moment. Can you actually do it?

When C was in elementary school he did enrichment class at Colorado College. One Saturday when we picked him up he was a decidedly green shade. Ummm...what's up? Seems that was the day they looked at sheep's lungs. Lungs have a very large amount of blood. He did not deal well with it. So ended the dream of being a doctor. Brent had had a similar nope moment when he was younger as well so it wasn't a total surprise.

But can you deal with blood is a good first start for can you be a doctor.

When I went to massage therapy school I did an introduction class before signing up for the full deal. Just a really quick Saturday thing, lasted a few hours. Why do you want to do this? What do you see yourself doing with the degree? And here are a few simple strokes, let's practice. My instructor called it the "Can you touch a naked stranger?" class. Because a lot of people think they want to be massage therapists and then find out...oh wait, I have to touch naked people. I don't want to be a therapist anymore.

I did not have a problem touching a naked stranger. Which was good for school and a little worrying for Brent. Just kidding... But it was a test you had to pass to move on to the next phase. And you really did need to be able to do it. Each class you were on the table, off the table, working with other students, doing exchanges for homework, then clinic. When you are in school you touch a LOT of strangers. And you have to be able to do it without hesitation. And then you have to learn to do it without losing site of the fact that that body is a person so pay attention.

And these are the things I thought about today while Dr. Youngblood drilled out my old crown and made me chomp on goo to get the mold for the new one. Because it grosses me out to have all of that spit everywhere.

I don't like spit.

The Cost of Wishing...

"What do you think the going rate for a wish is?"

"What?"

"You know, the cost of a wish. Like it used to be a penny, right? People would go to the Wishing Well or the fountain in the square and toss in a penny and make a wish. What do you think wishes cost now? It can't still be a penny."

"Does anyone even carry any change anymore?"

"Oh yeah, I hadn't even thought of that. Who has coins instead of credit cards? I mean maybe some bills but you always just leave the coins behind right? Like we have a change jar at home that we toss our coins into and it used to be like every six months or so we would take it to the bank and turn it all in. I can't even remember the last time we did that."

"So maybe the coin operated wish system is out of business."

"That makes me kind of sad. What a terrible thing to lose."

"Not for the guy that owns the well."

"What?"

"Whoever owned the well that people decided was the Wishing Well. Have you ever tasted a penny? They are nasty. Now imagine a hundred of them in your drinking water. Gross. I would think that getting away from coin based wishes probably was a relief for them."

"Well, except they probably went on city water long before the coins stopped coming. Who gets their water from a well anymore?"

"True."

"And maybe they liked the flavor. Or it gave them some sort of health benefit, right? Like isn't copper one of those things that people take for alternative health shit? What if that's the way the wishing well thing even started? People were tossing pennies into the well and the people that owned the well kept getting healthier and healthier so everyone kept making wishes."

"Maybe. Except I think you are supposed to wear copper for the benefit, not eat it. And how would you wishing Jenny would date you work out to Farmer Brown never getting sick? What would the wish math be there?"

"People would just assume that Farmer Brown was wishing for good health right?"

"Farmers wish for rain."

"Not all farmers wish for rain."

"All farmers wish for rain. It's like a farming absolute. Farmers wish for rain. You need rain."

"Fine. You're the farmer expert now. But maybe other people didn't know this and just assumed he was wishing for health?"

"Farmer Brown is a woman. Don't be sexist."

"Oh sorry...wait a second! You made Farmer Brown up. Farmer Brown doesn't even exist!"

"Still..."

"Fine, she was wishing for health. Is that better?"

"I guess..."

"You're impossible."

"Right? It's like one of my best traits!"

"Anyway...what was the original point I was trying to make?"

"How much does a wish cost now."

"Oh right! So what do you think? If you had to guess."

"I think they are still a penny."

"What? With inflation and everything?"

"Sure. I don't think it's the value of the coin, I think it's the sincerity of the wish. There are free wish avenues after all."

"What?"

"Birthday candles, shooting stars, dandelions, eyelashes..."

"Oh yeah. That's true. All of those are free."

"So I think the going rate is whatever coin you have in your pocket matched to a sincere wish and the belief that it will come true. If you have all of that then your wish is granted. Or if you have two out of three for the free wish areas."

"Sincere wish and belief. So when I was wishing to be an astronaut was I not sincere or was it that I didn't believe it would come true?"

"You have to ask yourself that question. I got my pony. So...."

"You did not!"

"I did. It was a doll, but it was a pony. My fault for not being more specific. And Gary kissed me in third grade when I did the eyelash wish. So I'm pretty sure I've got the wishing thing nailed. Though I probably shouldn't have been wishing for kisses in third grade."

"Maybe not. When was the last time you made a wish?"

"Gosh, it's been awhile. I don't even know what I would wish for anymore. What about you?"

"Maybe a few birthdays ago, the last time I got candles someplace. I think I wished that nobody would sing. They sang anyway."

"Because you didn't really believe they wouldn't."

"True. You really do have this wishing thing nailed."

"I do."

"So...want to go get some pennies and find a fountain?"

On Grief...

How do you grieve?

I've been thinking about it lately.

A dear friend of mine lost her dog a few weeks ago. You know the pets that have your whole heart? That was her dog. Of course it made me think of losing George. And Sampson. And Redd (though we had to give Redd away before moving to stupid California with its stupid no ferret laws). And Mitzi (who stayed in New Mexico as the family dog after we moved away and died years later, but I still miss her). And other pets we've had through the years. But mostly George because he was the last one we had to say goodbye to.

And when someone loses their pet you do that. You think of your own loses and you identify with them. And you think, "How should I respond?" I've settled on "sorry" or "it's so hard" because it is. I try not to talk about how I know just exactly what they are feeling, because I don't. I know what I was feeling. And I know that part of my grieving process was probably different than others.

I hate that stupid poem.

I know, I know, it brings a lot of people great comfort, but I don't believe in an afterlife for people so why would I believe in a rainbow bridge for pets? How horrible for George and Sampson and the others to be waiting over there for me when I will never show up. Because I don't believe in it. So they aren't really waiting over there. See? But I know a lot of people find great comfort in that and share it automatically. And when George died I just said thank you when they did. Not "Do you even know me?" which is what I thought. So I don't share that poem. Or my thoughts on the fact that death is death is death. There was no before and there is no after there is just now. And that I find that to be wonderful but I know most people find it terrifying.

People don't want to hear that shit when they've just lost their companions.

Then another friend of mine asked if I would read a book on grieving before its release so I could give a review on release day. I've read blogs by the woman who wrote the book and found them to be really insightful and lovely so I absolutely agreed. The woman who writes the blogs and now the book lost her husband around the same time as my friend Jo lost hers. I felt like I understood a little more what Jo was dealing with on a day to day basis by reading those blogs.

Because I don't have the frame of reference. I've written about her loss before and about the reaction of people around her and what she deals with. But I felt so strongly for her and for her kids. And how do you react as an outsider? Not a family member, but a long distance friend? Typically I have the same response as I mentioned earlier, I'm so sorry.

I've written about my grieving process for my father and how much it surprised me because I didn't see or talk to my dad on a daily basis. I hadn't lived at home for decades and yet when he died my world rocked. So I think of that and then think of how much greater the magnitude of rocking would be for a spouse. It makes me feel a bit helpless. But honestly we are all helpless in that situation. None of us have the right words to make it better. Because we can't.

So I was thinking about grieving. And thinking about how we process it.

And then another friend lost her partner. The father of her children. Her daily companion. Her love. And all I had was "I am so sorry."

How do we process this? How do we help? How do we reach out through a computer and give a virtual hug? And how do we keep from saying the wrong thing? That's a challenge for me all the time. One of the ways I process strong emotional things like sickness and death is through humor. Dark fucking humor. But humor. My whole family does it. I've talked about it before. We are literally the kind of people that laugh at funerals. It doesn't mean we didn't love the person who passed, or that we are being disrespectful, but it does mean that we process things a little differently. We laugh through the tears to keep ourselves as whole as possible.

So I worry what to say and how to say it and what is appropriate and what isn't.

I hate people who try to co-opt a death as their own. You've seen them. A lot of time in churches it's the funeral brigade. They are helpful, sure, they organize the casseroles and the visits but they also dictate how people mourn. Or they turn it all back to them, "I remember when we lost my James..." I remember as well but this isn't about you. You don't own grief. You have no monopoly on being the great comforter. So shhh....let other people help. Let the bereaved tell you what they need. And don't look at me like that when I respond to "Oh how are you?" with a half laugh and a "Well...Dad just died so..."

When Dad died I knew I was going to be okay when I could start joking again. And okay is what we strive to get to after a death. We are never the same again. That's not the way death works. And we will always face reminders. Other people are going to lose dear pets that will remind of losing our own. Other people are going to lose parents, or spouses, or children, or best friends and we will remember our own loses. But hopefully we get to okay.

And sometimes, even when we worry about the right thing to say we find someone who grieves in a similar fashion and we know they will be okay. Never all better but okay. The second response is my friend who just lost her partner. It's okay to laugh, if you are so inclined. For me this let me know that though she is an understandable wreck right now, she's going to find her path to okay. And if she needs any dark jokes I told her she can come to me.

It's what Skippy did when she was diagnosed with cancer. There are friends you call to make yourself feel better through tea and sympathy and friends you call to get jokes about the phrase killer boobs not supposed to mean actually try and kill you.

So I've been thinking about grief and grieving.

If you are reading this and are still working your way to okay I'm sending you a hug. And I'm keeping my mouth shut if that's what you need. Or I'm telling you something horrible but funny if that is more your speed.

You'll be okay. It will take time, but you'll be okay.

Fifteen Minutes!

I have fifteen minutes to write something, AND GO!

I wasn't going to write today. I mean I was. I had every intention of writing and then I faffed about and did a little of this and a little of that and thought big and little thoughts and faffed some more and then I wasn't going to write anymore because I just didn't have time.

But I really need to get back in to the swing of writing every day so here I sit with a strict time deadline (I have to LEAVE THE HOUSE so it's strict) and I'm writing.

Part of why I didn't want to write is because I really want to write some fiction and I didn't have an idea for fiction. I did have a ranty nonfiction piece I could write about.

Part of why I didn't want to write is because the ranty nonfiction piece I have in my head I've written on the subject over and over again and not really sure it would be anything new or just a rehash of ideas. So I talked myself out of it.

Part of why I didn't want to write is that I'm feeling a little untalented right now. I mean, I've been watching these MasterClasses on writing and I feel like they are really shining a spotlight on the fact that I'm not really that good at this. But then again, I don't really want or need to be THAT good at it. I'm not looking to make a living, just looking to amuse myself and the five of you. But still there is that voice...

WHICH is why I am writing, even if I only have fifteen minutes. Because, man, once that voice sets in you are screwed. Then writing becomes nothing fun at all. It becomes a whole Eeyore trip. You know the whole doom and gloom and nobody really likes me anyway thing. So instead I'm writing to keep the voice damped down and the words flowing.

Who knows, maybe I'll end up writing the ranty blog tomorrow anyway, it's not like it would be the first time I've repeated myself. Or maybe there will be something awesome that happens tonight to spur a fiction idea. Or I will just Google writing prompts like a lazy woman and handle it that way. Which seems about right.

I'm also on the edge of full blown manic, when Brent sees the shopping I've done the past two days he will say I'm past the edge, but I can feel that it might tip into a BIG one. Which would be GREAT for writing. As long as I hide away the credit cards and shopping sites and focus on the words. Whee....


So there you go. Fifteen minutes of just putting my fingers on the keys and letting the words fall out of them. It's messy. It's not all that good. But it's here and that's the part that really counts.

What are you supposed to be doing that you aren't? Set a timer and at least do a bit of it. Trust me, you'll feel better. Or at least you won't feel worse.