Monthly Archives

May 2015

Boys

Brave Bravery and the Penguin (a retrospective)

May 7, 2015

adelie_penguin_web_20246

*I published and pulled this 4 times in February. It remained hidden, until today.

It needs to breathe. I need to breathe.

I said it out loud instead.

It didn’t work out, I never had a chance.
He wanted something else with someone else, somewhere else the whole time.
I was just a way to pass some time.

Cosmic comeuppance I suppose. I have been halfway out the door in every relationship I have ever been in, except this one.

Karma karma karma.

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3 things happened.

Someone got brave.
Someone redefined bravery.
And a penguin threw up.

The following is Rob Brezny’s Freewill Astrology Horoscope for Libra 25.02.15

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Take inventory of the extent that “No” dominates your life. Notice how often you say or think: 1. “That’s not right.” 2. “I don’t like that.” 3. “I don’t agree with that.” 4. “They don’t like me.” 5. “I’m not very good.” 6. “That should be different from what it is.” For help in retraining yourself to say “Yes!” at least 51% of the time, tune in to your EXPANDED AUDIO HOROSCOPE.

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SACRED ADVERTISEMENT. The oracle below is excerpted from my book PRONOIA Is the Antidote for Paranoia: How the Whole World Is Conspiring to Shower You with Blessings.
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Beauty and Truth Laboratory researcher Firenze Matisse traveled to Antarctica. On the first day, the guide took him and his group to a remote area and left them alone for an hour to commune with the pristine air and unearthly stillness. After a while, a penguin ambled up and launched into a ceremonial display of squawks and stretches. Firenze responded with recitals of his favorite memorized poems, imagining he was “engaged in a conversation with eternity.” Halfway through his inspired performance of Thich Nhat Hanh’s “Please Call Me by My True Names,” the penguin sent a stream of green projectile vomit cascading against his chest, and shuffled away.

Though Firenze initially felt deflated by eternity’s surprise, no harm was done. He soon came to see it as a first-class cosmic joke, and looked forward to exploiting its value as an amusing story with which to regale his friends back home.

Beauty and Truth Laboratory researcher Michael Logan was the first person to hear Firenze’s tale upon his return from Antarctica. “You might want to consider this, Firenze,” Michael mused after taking it all in. “Penguins nurture their offspring by chewing food—mixing it up with all God’s enzymes—and then vomiting it into the mouths of the penguin babies. Perhaps you weren’t the butt of a cosmic joke or some Linda Blair-esque bad review, but in fact the recipient of a very precious gift of love. Who knows?”

Now Firenze has two punch lines for his tale of redemptive pronoia.

*

Bravery = movement anyways.

I wonder what it sounds like when a penguin throws up.

Probably a lot like this.

I love you.

I decided this.

I have been with you sick, well, happy, sad, here and gone. You are who I think you are.

I fell in love with you at the bar with the lumpy couch, thank you for whatever it is you did to me. I fell more in love with you on the stoop outside of work with your face in my belly. You thanked me for whatever it was I did to you.

Even if nothing comes from this, you have my gratitude. You were the first man I felt comfortable being completely myself around, you made it safe. You raised the chivalry bar back to where it should be, I won’t settle. I have also redefined honesty and unconditional because of you. I like where and who I am, you are part of that. Thank you.

I untangled myself from someone I loved for a long time, my whole life really. This is how I know exactly what it feels like to love someone. You were not the only reason for letting go, but you were in the top 2.

All of the other safety nets just fell away naturally. I don’t need them anymore, even if you can’t catch me, I’ll just fall and land eventually, it’s alright.

I thought about letting you go. That is what happened in front of the church. I knew what was happening and I got scared, I am sorry. The truth is, I have been looking for you for a really long time.

Remember when I said ‘it’s like walking into a wading pool when you know what the ocean feels like’.

I wrote that about you. 3 weeks before I said it.

You are the ocean.

 

 

Uncategorized

His and Hers and Hers

May 5, 2015

barred-owls-perched

I forgot to laugh when he said I was perceptive.
Perceptive girls don’t fall in love with boys who are unavailable.

Who am I kidding? Of course we do.

We wait, that is also a thing we do, when we find someone who is worth it. I thought if I waited he would know he could trust me. In retrospect, the smarter thing would have been more opening my mouth, more explaining and less hiding and trying to seize the right moment, any moment would have been good. Less reading the signs and more asking direct questions and actually listening to the answers.
Hindsight, you fucking cunt.

I had a dream, about Him. We were standing on the edge of Niagara Falls at night watching the lights, both remarking on how awful it was that they would make a mockery of something so beautiful with a light show. He was holding me close, we were looking down and my hat flew away. He looked at me and said “you have to let it go”, I feebly replied that it was my favorite hat but I didn’t put up a fight, I knew it was gone and he was right. There was nothing better than standing there with him.

I have lots of hats, but there is one that is my favorite. Makes me feel pretty when I don’t, compensates for my bad hair days, frames my face just so, keeps me warm and brings me comfort. There is a metaphor here. I let that hat go.

Then there was the owl. I was driving home the day before fetching Him from the airport and I had the weirdest thought, I have a thousand million thoughts a day, some louder than others. It’s easy to lose them in the crowd. Except when, right at that very moment this really loud thought comes roaring over all the others, an owl flies into your car window. The thought was this “you are going to tell him you love him and then you are going to have to kick him out of your house, it is the only way this will work.” Two days later, that exact thing happened, exactly the way I had watched it happen in my head.

The owl came back last night. The dogs took themselves a walk to the neighbors who were watching the owl fly back and forth across their yard. The mantra playing in my head at that moment? “If you have to choose between me and her. Pick her.”

Once upon a time I was the ‘her’. The “him” picked me, and it ended badly, we all behaved badly. I have a map to that place. It’s the swamp of sadness. I watched another woman disrespect the relationship I was in, chase ‘my’ man until it worked for her, she got what she wanted in the end. Except she still doesn’t have it and she knows it. I don’t want to live that way.

I am not her.

Uncategorized

Sanctuary for Mali

May 3, 2015

mali-the-ele

 

There is a mantra I use when i get overwhelmed “How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time”

Alter that a little. How do you SAVE an elephant? $5 at a time.”

I have been sitting on this idea for a while. I have always been fascinated with the idea of “Sanctuary”, any human in trouble can knock on a church door and be safe from whatever evil lurks outside.

Yesterday I met with a dear friend, Pedro, and this idea I had picked up some serious momentum.

It’s been 60 days since I heard about Mali…I have been plotting and planning ever since. My friend John has been crucial in the process, confirming that she still is in the Manila Zoo, having my back and pushing me to research research research.

I have been given a voice and an audience with the success of my blog and Facebook page.

Time to use this little bit of influence and power for good.

I run the risk of y’all getting sick of me as we forge ahead, single minded. But the more you share, the bigger this gets and the faster we enact some change up in here.

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When I was little, my grandparents had a beautiful house in East Lansing Michigan.
It was my happy place.

Across the street lived a typical family, couple of kids, couple of dogs.

They had, to the best of my recollection, 2 poodles and a Doberman that lived IN the house. Out back, they had a sheepdog named Sheba.

Sheba lived in a 10×10 pen with a doghouse. Winter, summer, rain or shine. I remember asking my grandpa one day why she had to stay outside when the other dogs lived inside, “I don’t know Punky” was all he said.

Every day, twice a day my grandpa would walk across the street, and feed and water Sheba. I would go with him. I liked her better the 2 times a year when they would have her shaved down, she looked like a Muppet and didn’t smell as bad. But I always loved her, big brown eyes, always happy to see us. My hands fit through the chain link and I would scratch her nose. My grandpa loved her so I did too.

Twice a year she would get knocked up, and twice a year she would break out and find refuge at my grandparent’s house, once having her babies under the car in the middle of a snowstorm.

I showed up for a visit once, and we didn’t go see Sheba, of course I asked why, “she’s gone Punky”. I remember deciding she went to live with a nice family who let her inside and loved her. The truth is she had a shitty life. But twice a day, she felt cared for.

This set my internal bar for how I treat animals. And upon further pondering, I realized he showed me the power of one person alleviating the suffering of one other being. You can’t change the whole world, but you can change pieces of it.

There is so much evil in the world, I can’t take it. None of us can, we all cope in different ways. Shutting it out seems popular, getting overwhelmed to the point of paralysis is also a common coping mechanism.

I saw the picture of Mali the elephant holding her own tail, and my heart broke for the millionth time. It breaks every day.

The story is this. At age 4 Mali was captured in the wild and shipped to a zoo in Manila. She lives in a concrete pen. She has not seen another elephant in 33 years. Her health is failing. She needs out of there, onto grass and around other elephants.

She has been in prison for 33 years.

The family structure and bonding of elephants is stronger than ours, by a lot a lot. Female elephants live out their entire lives in the herd they are born into. They have babies and help each other raise them. They have been known to bury and mourn their dead. In the eyes of many they are sentient beings, like us, they feel emotion and are self-aware.

My first thought was ‘research’. Is she even still there? Is this real or another outdated Facebook heartstring puller? I did one better, had my friend John confirm when he was in Manila.

She is alive, and there.

I can’t fly to the Philippines twice a day to give her food and water, nor am I an elephant, which is what she really needs, the company of other elephants.

Second thought, sign the petition. I did, and one better I shared it on my Facebook page.

But then I did more research. Half a million signatures over 3 years, a secured verified place to put her, Sir Paul McCartney on board. Why is she still on concrete and alone?

Third thought. This is a hostage situation. Everything has a price right?

I managed to raise $1400 in 7 days for a friend in trouble from a collective pool of 500 people on social media. My Facebook page is about to hit 12K and I have access to 500K more if I ask nicely. I started formulating a plan. I am going to buy this elephant and relocated her my damn self.

Brilliant plan right?

In theory, but in theory communism works.

I did more research, at the behest of John. One thing I read (written by PETA) was, ‘if we buy her what is to stop the zoo from using the money to buy more animals’. Good point.

I extrapolated with the help of Aaron Sorkin. One of my favorite shows of all time is Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip. There was a plotline involving a hostage situation. One of the lines that rang true was a Sergeant saying “do you know what the going rate for a hostage is in South America? $300 000. It used to be $100 000 until one day someone asked for 300K they paid it, and now that is the going rate.” I am paraphrasing.

Fuck.

I know I can raise the money. There was never a doubt in my mind, and now I have help. What if I buy this elephant and then, less fortunate countries get this idea that they can hold elephants hostage? The white ladies will pay…whole new problem.

Scrap that plan.

Give me a corner, I will think around it and draw you a map.

I have the blessing/curse of seeing all sides, always.

God bless PETA, but they are trying to instill western philosophical guilt on an eastern country more concerned with pride than the welfare of an animal.

And honestly kids, so is their right, both PETA and the Agricultural Department of the Philippines.

This is another culture we are speaking of, halfway around the world. It is pompous and vain to impose our values on them. We did that when we came to North America, look how that worked out for the people who called this continent home for a millennia. Not so good.

So, what to do?

I am still going to raise money and petition the Philippine government. To build an elephant sanctuary, in the Philippines, and to retire Mali there along with any other elephant in the country.

Save Mali and save even more elephants.

I would like to live in a world that sees animals as something to be cherished, cared for and respected.

But until we get there, we can change one thing at a time.

Share this post, often. as many places as you can. tumblr, reddit, tweet it, keep it rolling.

Sign the PETA petition.

I’m starting the gofundme with $500 out of my pocket.

Donate what you can, $5 bucks adds up fast, and with that we can change the world for one lonely elephant.

 

gofundme.com/tm4vj98g

 

 

 

 

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