Thinking

I have been told, more times than I care to think about, that I overthink things.  This is, I know, true.  While this is something I am trying to work on, there is only so much that I can do to fix it.  Partly because, frankly, it's hard to think about not thinking about things, because it just makes you think more.  Partly because of things that happened to me years ago, but only a small part these days.  Mostly because it's who I am and how I was raised, that thinking is good and to look at something from every angle.

A good bit of it I can change, I just have to have time... probably more time than I'm willing to admit to myself.  I thought about it a LOT last night.  Meditated on it.  And I realized that I've forgotten to be who I am, who I want to be. I've been ignoring who I am, focusing instead on who I think someone special wants me to be.  Of course, if I had actually thought about it (ironic, I know), I would have known better. Intellectually, instinctively, I know that he wants me to be who I am, that that's who he loves and wants to be with.  But I didn't think about it, at least not from that far out, and I've been trying to do everything I can to be what he wants, or rather what it seems like he wants me to be.  I've let myself go, let go of what's important to me, and am trying to mould myself to something that nobody is actually asking of me.  I've let a job... a job I hate and am unsuited for... I've let it eat at me and eat at me, making everything worse.

On the bright side, knowing that something's wrong, I have begun meditating again, though not "properly" I admit... at least not in my accustomed fashion, which I may have to change.  I've been working out my... quirks, trying to quell tendencies to overreact and so on and so forth... I've spent a lot of time in the "basement" of my brain, where all the horrific crap has been shut in.  Trying to straighten it out, trying to clean it out... it's hard work.  There is a lot of pain there, and many false beliefs upon which everything else was built.  But I'm trying, and it's slowly getting better.  Very slowly.  Things that mean nothing to some people trigger... unexpected reactions in me.  Usually not for the better.  Once I lower my guard to someone, let them in, I lose the ability to filter a lot of it out.  I would rather not have to raise any part of my guard again, but I might have to... I'm at a job which eats at me, I'm away from those upon whom I have relied for the last two years, it's winter so I'm depressed (damn S.A.D.), and I've not been true to myself.  The late hours are really not helping either, nor is being sick (still not better, but enough so to go back to work today... yay...), but that's beside the point.  Actually, I've wandered far away from the point, which was about overthinking.  Apparently I overthought (underthought? both?) the blog on overthinking... oh well.  My only other thought was, to nobody in particular, that sometimes, just sometimes, it's not me who's overthinking things, but others who are underthinking.  Usually though, it's a bit of both.

God I wish my brain had a mute button...

Unnatural?

There are two ways you can go about looking at homosexuality from a moral standpoint.  One is non-religious, and one is religious.  Let's start with non-religious.

First and foremost, one should take a look at other animals to determine if homosexuality is unnatural.  Since homo- or bisexual behavior seems to be a nearly (if not completely) universal phenomenon (http://www.physorg.com/news164376975.html), especially true in the case of primates, some of which are completely and universally bisexual, we can rule out  it being unnatural.  As for a morality standpoint, there is little to go by from a non-religious standpoint which doesn't hinge on it being unnatural.  As a method of population control alone, it is useful in and of itself, and worth keeping around with a population of 7,000,000,000+.

Religiously, there are two ways of looking at it, an active diety or a passive diety.  An active diety is easy to rule out, as homosexuality (namely in animals) would not exist in such a scenario.  A passive god(s) would, following any sort of logic, accept a group on their own terms.  If a species evolved which automatically included homosexuality, there would be no immorality in such an act, as long as it was willing (as with any sexual relations).

On a side note, the mere fact that men have a "G-spot" on the prostate, which can only be reached by penetration, proves that homosexuality is natural, and to some degree logical in a social animal.  Dominance would be enforced by "topping" the subordinates, and those which protested least - or liked it - would be more likely to survive for long, passing the trait on to their children.

Just food for thought.

Nature

The Great Spirit has made us what we are:

it is not his will that we should be changed.

If it was his will, he would let us know;

if it is not his will, it would be wrong

for us to attempt it, nor could we,

by any art, change our nature.

(Seneca Proverb)

Undignified

I had a sweet cat, curled up on my lap purring away, happy as can be.  Then I sneezed on his head and the purring stopped.  After an undignified moment, he ran away.  Of course, as soon as my coffee was ready he jumped back up and now I feel bad to disturb him so I haven't gotten my coffee yet.  Oh well.

For the first time in a long time

I should do the typical update of a long ignored blog, revisited for the first time in months.  But I'm not.

Suffice to say that things that needed to end ended, and wonderful new things have grown in their stead.  Much like Yellowstone after their catastrophic fire, new life came far sooner and far greener than expected.

Tonight is the first night in six days that I'm spending the night alone.  Being in my twenties I know that it would be expected of me to relish the time alone, to revel in my so-called freedom.  But I'm not.

No, rather I find myself missing him.  Being in my twenties, I know that it would be expected of me to be missing the sex.  Well, there is that, but that's not what I find myself missing.  I miss him, the touch, the scent, the presence... the someone else to cook for, to eat with, to smile at.  The arm to lean against, the embrace to fall into... the soft but steady noise of another's breathing. That is what I miss.  My boys are here, the cat rather close (and for once not on my lap), and they have their own patterns... but its not the same.

I lay on the bed to read... and I miss his warmth.  I sit on the computer, for it at least has something to occupy me, and from time to time he does something, like "poking" me.  That helps, but its not the same as being tickled against my will.  Knowing me, I would NOT expect to miss that, but I do. 

Because it makes him smile, and that makes it all worth it.

So long story short... I miss you, and I'll see you soon.

Sam

Sam sat in his home, with his rather large family gathered in front of him, gathered in another interminably long and tedious family meeting.

"Ok," Sam said tiredly.  "We've already covered this.  Betsy," he said, looking at his niece, "you already got your privileges, you got them a two months after we moved here.  And you, Ebony, got yours as well a few weeks later.  We all know that was only right and fair, and you can get away with anything that my son, Tommy could have from the beginning."

Sam sighed, and looked to two adults sitting in a love seat on one side of the room.  "Uncle Adam, Aunt Steve, I'm still just not quite sure you two really should get all of those same privileges, it might cause too many problems.  I'm fairly sure you should, but I'm just not quite ready to—"

A noise from the other room cut Sam off, and he glanced angrily at a closed door.  "Norman!  Cut that racket out!  You can't come out of your room until you start behaving!  Now keep those two girls quiet, and don't make me come in there!"

Sam turned back to Adam and Steve and was about to continue speaking, when some mumbling started. He glared at the other child seated in front of him, young Ashton.  He admonished the child, who wore a simple yellow shirt and cut-off shorts.  "Ashton, you wait your turn.  I haven't figured out how to handle these two yet, much less someone like you!"

Turning back to the adults, he spoke once more.  "Now, I'm prepared to accept that you want and deserve some of the same privileges, but we cannot allow—"  Sam's sentence transformed into a frustrated growl as the power went out, struggled to come back on, and settled for a barely lit brown-out.

"What am I supposed to do now?!" He cried.  "I can barely keep the lights on in here, much less figure out how to settle the problem with these two!"

Just then, Sam's wife, Lady, grabbed a flashlight, turned it on, and held it upwards, reflecting the light off the ceiling to illuminate the entire room.  "Sam, dear, calm down.  We have been through far worse than this before and we came out of it alright, remember?"  Sam grudgingly nodded.  "Good," Lady continued.  "Now do you remember why we moved out here, away from our former homes, to live here together under this roof?"

Sam nodded.  "Yes, we were tired of being mistreated."

"And why did our nieces and nephews and aunts and uncles all start moving here?"

Sam grumbled, "They were tired of being mistreated, and thought things would be better here."

Lady stood up, walking over towards Sam.  "That's right, dear.  They were tired of being mistreated, which is why we all came here.  Things aren't the best right now, no, but they will get better in time.  But throughout and despite that, we cannot allow ourselves to forget the best parts about ourselves."

Sam glanced at his aunt and uncle, sitting quietly on their love seat, and then over towards Ashton, waiting hopefully for some attention.  Lady glanced at him, pride in her eyes despite Sam's hesitation.  "Give it time.  Remember how much you fought against Betsy and Ebony, when they brought up their problems?  You hated it then, but now you take it for granted that they should have and deserve equal rights and privileges.  This will be the same, in time. "

Sam nodded slowly, and opened his mouth to speak once more.

"Bikeride"

Lincoln has learned a new word, rather quickly this time.  "Bikeride."  Not "bike ride," but real close together where it sounds more like some kind of foreign dessert than the individual words.  Two days ago he went for his first "ride," where he runs alongside me on my bike.  Once we switched to his long leash rather than the short one he uses for car rides (it buckles in, it's fantastic), he was thrilled with it.  Ran like the wind about half of a mile down, then came back, only veering slightly for a beagle that only appears if there's another dog on the road.

I asked him today if he wanted to go for a "bikeride" and he went crazy, running back and forth from me to the door until I was ready, then led me to the shed for the bike, and straight on to the gate.  He even was eager for the harness.  Then we were off.

And not even halfway down the driveway I was off, of my bike in this case.

Apparently in his excitement, Link completely forgot about how he had learned fairly quickly "stay to the right of the bike and go straight" and decided to weave  like crazy back and forth, making me have to veer, hit the breaks, and hit the driveway.

Thankfully, I have a dirt driveway, and this was not in the rocky portion, it wasn't even the muddy one, surprisingly.

After we were back on our way, he continued to forget how to stay to the side, and wore himself out.  We went the same distance we had last time (after which he was tired, but still capable of running).  On the way back, however, he was too tired to run at all quickly, which gave him time to decide to try to veer off suddenly to inspect the mailboxes.  By the time we made it back to the driveway I was about ready to pick him up and haul him back, but he finally made it back inside and immediately splashed his water dish across my freshly mopped kitchen floor.  I suppose some of it made it down his throat, but I'm not sure.

I'm dreading tomorrow's "bikeride."  Definitely not taking him to Sparky's place, way too much asphalt and way too little soft grass there.

The Raccoon Returns

I know it's been a long time since I have even touched this blog, and I apologize for that.  My time and urge for creativity has been taken up by other projects, such as a gallery show and another long term project I still have in the works.  But more on that another time (if you're lucky).

This past fall I had a couple of encounters with raccoons, namely them waking me up at four in the morning, pissing me off.  After that, I had a small rat problem, during which a single mouse was caught as well.  The final solution involved a barricade in my air duct, blocking the passage, while leaving a pair of glue traps on the side from which the rats accessed that portion of the duct (which led straight to my bedroom, robbing me of sleep as they tried to eat a hole in the metal).  After the rats disappeared, I simply left the barricade and associated trap in place as a preventive measure.  I spent the next few months checking it periodically, eventually letting this drop off completely as there was nothing to find.

Yet another time there was a drunken, injured, sick, or simply stupid bat flying around my front door, freaking out both my dog and myself.  This is why, when over the last week or so I heard high pitched squeaking sounds, I assumed that it was from bats outside, as for a number of nights my window next to the bed stayed open.  It only would happen at night when I was in the bedroom, so I thought nothing more of it.

Until it happened when the window was shut, and I could finally tell that it was not coming from outside.

As per standard reaction, I immediately grabbed my knife and flashlight, and followed the dog (who was going crazy) out to the other room.  My first thought was "crap, the bat's inside," especially as the dog himself was looking up at the ceiling in confusion.  Then we both realized (thanks to the cat, to be fair) that it was coming from the vent.  I opened it up, shined the flashlight in (shone the flashlight?), then told myself that I refused to deal with it just then, and put the vent cover back on.

What it was, as it turned out, was a mouse stuck to the glue trap, along with three additional mice who had already died (I assume, I did not check to be sure, but the live one was obviously alive, so I assumed that the others were dead).  There were also the hairs of some larger animal, neither mouse nor rat, stuck along the barricade, though the traps themselves were not overly disturbed and there was no additional sign of the creature.

I tossed the traps out, replaced them, and cleaned out the hair.  Last night, nothing happened.  Tonight, I heard some sound (I was watching a show online with Sparky, wearing earphones, so I cannot say what exactly it was), followed the boys out, and heard a panicked squeaking.  I did not check the trap as I felt it safe to assume it was stuck, then went back to the show.

There is no mouse stuck in the trap, and the squeaking stopped by the time I went back out to take the mouse out of its misery (and so I would not have to hear it all night), but there was another big tuft of hair in the duct.  Looking online at my most likely suspect confirmed both that they do eat small animals and the colors of the hair (they were an inch to an inch and a half long, with light and dark bands with frosted tips, vaguely wavy), so I am fairly confident that I have three things, one of which is a big hole in the duct-work, and I know exactly where it probably is.  Another is a gap in the siding that I was not aware of.  And finally I have a raccoon stalking mice in my air ducts.

Of course, it is entirely possible that I had a raccoon under my house and then sealed up his escape hole, and he is simply starving and trying to find his way out.  I will have to consider that possibility.

Now I am faced with a dilemma.  If I assume that the raccoon is finding his way in and out and I seal any gaps, I could be trapping him in there, or I could be keeping him out.  If I assume he is trapped in there, and I open it, I could be letting more things under there.  Furthermore, regardless of that, if I (or rather, Sparky, as I am claustrophobic) seal up the hole in the vent, I could be keeping him out or trapping him in.  In which case he will either die in my ducts, which would make me feel guilty and create a horrible stench, or he will create a bigger mess by breaking his way out of it somewhere, or even figure out how to come up out of the vents themselves into the house, giving me a heart attack, giving the cat a heart attack, and giving the dog a new playmate, which the raccoon would not be happy about and would then hurt the dog.  All said, that is a low possibility, but I am learning not to underestimate these things.

I'm making myself dizzy and uncomfortable.  Time for bed.

When Enough is Never Enough

Some days nothing is enough, even when there is enough.

First off, there's time.  Realistically there is plenty for all that I want to do.  I have enough down time to prove that, even if I cannot motivate myself to get working, due to tiredness, illness, rain, cold, or dark.  Like right now I could probably do some stuff in the studio I just don't want to do.   But it's really cold, and I'm all comfy and warm.

Warmish.  There's a purring cat on my lap that seems to think I'm warm and comfy enough though.  Even that, however, is not enough, as he wants attention too.

Then there's Sparky.  I've seen him every day this week except Monday.  I'll see him tomorrow.  But I was still sad to see him go. It was enough, but it's not enough.

Art-wise, I probably have enough for a project I'm working towards, but I really don't feel like it is enough.  And what I could do to make sure that it is, I just don't want to do.  But I'll go to the hardware store tomorrow and pick up a few things.  After the dentist.  And before the art thing tomorrow evening.  Hmm... back to time again.

But why is it that I, and people in general feel this way?  Why are we never satisfied with what we have?  Like so many things, regardless of the cause, it's good and bad.  On the bad side, to do things backwards from how I laid it out just now, it can cause unhappiness, dissatisfaction, even depression.  However, at the same time it's good as it motivates us and is likely the root cause for our entire civilization.  I don't mean America or globalization, I mean everything since the discovery (or is it taming?) of fire.  Or agriculture, but I would imagine that fire came well before.  If you want to go that route, however, there are tool-using primates.  Primitive tools such as blades of grass, but tools.  So they do it too, to some degree.

Whatever.  I'm going to go be happy with what I have, and snuggle in bed with a purring cat (fittingly, he stopped purring right as I went to type that) and a dog with his jacket on (yes, he has a jacket for when it's cold), and watch old tv shows on the computer, and be happy.  Sparky might be gone home now, but I got to spend enough time with him.  Even if it just wasn't quite enough.

Incommunicado

Lately I have had great trouble in making myself do much of anything that involves communication technology, be it computer or phone.  Apart from Sparky, it's been very hard to make myself do so much as send a simple text message, much less call someone.  Not that I've had to much, of late.  By email I only correspond with one person, and he finally sent another email asking what was going on since I hadn't responded to his last email in quite some time (weeks probably).  Even that took me three days to respond to.

To be fair, those three days were pretty busy.  Highlighted by Saturday, when I went to Epcot with Sparky, Sparky's mom, Sparky's mother's friend, and Sparky's mother's friend's daughter.

I feel a bit guilty here for making that seem much more crowded and complicated than it really was, but it was rather fun to build upon each level of acquaintance.  There were five of us, and we've done stuff together before.  This was no different except it was all day (a very long one, but very fun) and involved two two-hour drives, as well as insufficient road signs.  It's just wrong to have a sign for one road at every single intersection for a while then to suddenly stop mentioning it.  Makes you think you missed it.

But oh well, we all had fun, and we all got home in one piece.  The photo was taken there, in what was the best section of the whole park in my opinion.  No rides there, but that was perfectly ok for me (although I do love the rides, and was wishing for an all-out roller coaster).  The only point of contention for me (apart from crowds and prices) was knowing a bit too much about certain things than is good for someone trying to enjoy an educational ride.  Partly out-dated animatronics, partly artistic liberty unchecked by scientific fact.  That and the fact that it was so incredibly euro-centric that it wasn't even worth a joke about.

I have once again strayed from my point.  Let me just wind it up because this whole anti-communication thing is kicking in again.  It's been getting harder and harder to do these blog posts lately because I just haven't felt like doing anything about it.  Possibly part of that part is that I'm doing enough art-work that I'm getting my creative fix.  Who knows.

This is amusing though.  I just clicked the spell checker included in the blog editing mumbo jumbo magic box that I type and things appear on the blog page (which does not like for you to type more than two or three letters while it's on, it cuts you off), and it isn't nearly as good as the Safari (or is it just the Mac itself maybe?) spell checker.  Namely "ok" and "animatronics" were picked up by this thing, while the Safari (web browser) knew they were ok.

One last note.  I am very proud of myself for being able to type animatronics correctly on the first try.