Now I can tell you apart

To be a medium sized person is now fat in this body dysmorphicaly messed up culture. I'm not even going to bother talking about me this time, it's way beyond all of that nonsense. It's about girls and boys and men and women being totally fucked up about nothing, which to them, and I, became everything at some weird point of development. When I look at my 12 year old, and think about being in 7th grade and what I felt like in relationship to the rest of the world, it makes me realize that everything being relative means that we are always looking at things from our perspective of self; however, self is at times merely a height, weight or angle. Age kind of plays the same role this process. The point being that throughout our lives all things change, even our visual sense of size, but the problem is, that civilization is now being viewed from a teen wide paradigm, and we all don't work with those parameters, nor should we.

They aren't as empty

We all perform to a degree, some of us our more obvious then others, or at times we work hard to be noticed. When I was young, I thought sometimes it was very important to behave well, as I figured someone was watching pretty much all of the time. Perhaps, on some level that was God and on another, a cute boy.
As a public employee, the venue in which I work enables me to garner a sense of how people present themselves on different levels. There are those who are always watching for something, and waiting for an opportunity, thankfully I don't know the details but they are most certainly looking for something to take advantage of. It's hard for me to get down to it on this one, but I know that there are moments when it's an act, a public persona that is motivating the behavior rather than just regular old conduct.

Belle of Kilronan

I always wanted a nickname, and in fact tried some, but then I would forget and just go by the old moniker. At a party the other night, I re-met a woman I had previous gotten to know at the Hessler street fair. She and her partner are both sparkling personalities, and I'm drawn to them, Seven and I were talking and I stated my feelings about not really liking my name ever and not actually feeling as if it applied to me, and she suggested that I find a new one as she had been given her name a few years previous and the origin remains a mystery which is part of the enigma and such. It was simple and I missed it for all my previous years, that it was up to me to just go and change it to something I liked better; but actually I already have one, and Eamon gave it to me years ago. So from now on, until I forget, I'm Pidge.

Nothing you can teach me

With the start of school, I had my first unaccompanied day in a long time. So, I enjoyed my freedom by going out to buy some extremely elusive school supplies. One would think I would have this down by now, and I do to some degree, but there are always going to be a few items that dog me and give me a challenge I would rather not participate in.
In addition to the academic related purchases, I wanted to go to buy some frozen fruit that I had partaken of at a party last week. Having no manners, I asked the hostess where to buy the stuff and she directed me to GFS, which I am aware of as in it's on my radar as I go to commercial business Central, however I have never had the pleasure. Holy shit everything there is enormous. If I sound naive no, that's not the case, I know about these warehouse stores that provide, well it has to be for polygamous multiple families, because no average sized household needs, or in my mind would even want the gigundus gallon sized container of relish, or perhaps the 5 Pound bag of french fries. I'm sure some businesses can find what they need to feed the public, but otherwise, I have enough ketchup for the Apocalypse. Yup, I'm all set.

The void in my head

Just when you think it's safe to get back into some sort of routine, you realize no, indeed you have forgotten something and it's pretty important. I panic when school starts, I get all twitchy and can't sleep well. I'm in my forties. Why on earth, how is it possible that I still have this fear. I don't really need to ask that question, I know that I found school confining and confounding for that matter; until college, where I was for the most part in my element.
I could not stand the routine, both personal and emotional, the boredom and the lack of connection I felt to most of the subjects and or teachers. There were moments of clarity, where I felt something great, I had some really good friends and fond, okay no fond, just livable memories of some events. But, the point is that I don't have to relive it every time the boys go back in the fall, or in this case mid-summer. Yet I do, even to the degree of buying new clothes and shoes for myself and perhaps a few pens and a locker shelf.

Go straight down

Oh my Silverchair grew up.
I'm slowing down, considerably. Part of that is the Sirius radio, I'm not paying attention, I don't have that attuned ear because I can just press the menu button and find out who's song I'm listening to. And, I'm the 255,000 person to watch the video for Silverchair song. It's just something I'm figuring out how to integrate into the aging file. It's not the end of the world, being slow. Because, it sure beats listening to golden oldies any day, however, beyond the acknowledgement of losing one's edge, not caring as much as I should is probably another sign of some sort of resignation to the inevitable. Time to fuck things up and throw a monkey wrench into the motor.

Good enough for me

Religious zealotry, take it or leave it. I yearn to be that comfortable with the idea of an afterlife, and to think that I know what to expect. Alas, it's not going to happen, I have far too much of an over thinking, overactive and logical mindset to just let all that be. So, there is this tiny part that considers the possibilities, but it is minute in comparison to the larger share that considers it all somewhat ensorcelled.
Eamon, Jack and I went to the first temple built by Joseph Smith and his followers in Kirtland. We've gone there in the past, but now it has a visitor center with a museum full of artifacts, original copies of the book of Mormon and of course, a gift shop. There were cars in the lot from Utah, Illinois and Alberta. I think that it's going to become the must see stop in any LDS tarriance.

As they were before

Eamon had sent me the movie of a herd of water Buffalo and a pride of lions and I hadn't been on the Internet for days, or watched the news so I didn't know what the outcome would be, but I had to hope that my husband would not send me something that would totally fuck with me. It's around eight minutes long so there where a few minutes there where I was unsure; but I didn't need to be, he wouldn't have sent it if the end of the story was going to be a bad one.
Now, I know that in nature there is that thing where animals have to eat and all. I'm realistic in my understanding of the food chain, but when it comes to the graphics, I get a little put off.
For me and I'm sure for many viewers of this marvelment , it is the dimensionality of the drama unfolding. First, what I want to focus on is the nature of the group. There is an obviously concerted effort to rescue the baby. It's not random, there are roles and they are being filled by brave animals, who are aware of each others location, numbers and abilities. Some of them scatter due to fear, or confusion, but the concentrated effort is so obvious and humbling, I am actually inspired. Yes, that's right I said it, I have hope.

Just one victory

Gus is in agony and needless to say I'm to blame. He has forgone his football commitment, due to; I'm still not quite sure. I think it had something to do with the way the coach either spoke to him or someone else. Or, it could be that he didn't want to run around in 90+ degree weather in a uniform made of petroleum based materials. Perhaps, it was a half and half kind of thing. The rub is that he told me he wanted to be in the marching band again, and that what he liked was music, baseball and swimming, that he had an epiphany that football was no longer fun. Well, for for the last three mornings at the crack, I've gone to his room and he refuses to get up and go to band camp. I've exhausted every means of suggestion, explanation, argument and some level of manipulation. I've told him I understand his plight and can see this thing from both sides, but being where I am, I know that being connected to a larger thing in high school, will help him out greatly just in terms of his social and emotional well being. He'll have none of it and now that he's a giant, I can't pick him up and bring him there. I'll settle for anything at this point, even a token tap on his drum pad to let me know that there is hope for his musical and potentially rockin out future.

Brave and sure

I haven't been able to get on the computer at all this week. My parents are visiting and they just want to party all the time.
So, it started with a very strong desire to turn off the TV. I was at the Ford dealership, getting my 5,000 mile service which is actually fancy talk for oil change. Anyway, the "Customer Lounge" was pretty full up, and the television was on, with it's constant chattering about, recipes, local news, loosing weight and peeping Toms of course, so I tried to read Bukowski's new book of poetry; though he's been dead a dozen years or so, his widow seems to keep shitting them out. No chance of that, I tried for a magazine, as I come prepared knowing that I may end up in the rumpus room for hours. I looked up after about an hour, and the room was empty except for I, and therefore the box of noise could be turned off. Seconds after I pressed the power button a woman walked into the room and I looked at her guiltily and stated that I had turned off the TV, but if she wanted it back on that was fine, she declined much to my multifaceted joy. I really just wanted quiet so it was a relief not to have to ready myself for the onslaught. As we both sat down in our respective corners, I looked up and said that it amazes me how everywhere you are there is a television on with it's mind numbing blabber, she agreed and we went on to talk for about forty five minutes about what that constant sound of voices and noise has done to our culture. What it has done to just plain conversation between strangers, and how that has been limited by the frequency of televisions in public settings. And, how we both thought that it probably wasn't the same anywhere but in the USOFA. It was a lovely and I dare say filmic experience. Of course that's how I saw it, let's ask the viewers shall we.