It's been proven once and for all that President Obama was born here in the United States (and yes, Hawaii is a state and has been for a very long time).
And bin Laden was captured and killed on President Obama's watch.
Yah, the republicans are pissed alright. And Trump! He must be furious! He had to put up with the public ridicule at the White House Correspondent's Dinner. The gall of that must have been bitter for him.
As for bin Laden, I have a hard time in my mind justifying any death that wasn't natural. We murdered bin Laden, plan and simple, but it's something that had to be done, I suppose. And the fact that it happened on Obama's watch - it's a bitter pill to swallow for the republicans.
Yes, I know Obama isn't the best president, and lauding him because he's half black doesn't make up for all his mistakes. But there isn't a training session or a guide book on how to be president. I think anyone who takes that office is going to have problems and we should give Obama credit - at least for this.
So Bush, eat your heart out. Obama did what you couldn't do in 8 years of office.
HAH!
Monday, May 02, 2011
Saturday, August 21, 2010
What's Out There?
I love science fiction. There is just something about the idea of other places, other beings, other IDEAS, that fascinate me. So often I wish I could be on some space craft out there exploring that the yearning becomes almost painful. It’s an idealized culture, scifi. Ethics are better, technology is awesome, mundane problems are already solved and people live better.
I like that.
Oh I know, some scifi stories deal with the darker side of life. There are always scifi books that deal with corruption, tyranny and power hungry people who just like to make others suffer. Those can be good reads too, just to see how the author imagines those horrors and how to deal with them. But my idea of a good read is the idealized world that has banished hunger, eliminated current illnesses and produce highly educated people who are doing what they want in life.
Because once those problems are dealt with, the author(s) can start imagining what people would be like without the pressures of day to day concerns.
And that’s what I like. The exploration of what we could become.
And since we’ll never really know for sure what we will become until we get there, one idea is as good as another. Why not explore options?
Scifi became an obsession for me back when I was in college the first time around. I liked it before, but something else was triggered back then. I blame it on a humanities instructor I had. He was small and stout, and had that look about him that said reading and writing were his idea of heaven.
You know, a nerd.
During one of his classes, we had been assigned a particular boring book to read. So dull, that most of us in the class couldn’t even get past the first chapter. I can’t even remember the name of the book, that’s how bad it was. Disturbing because what if I run into it again and waste my time reading it?
Our instructor gave us a stern talking to about how reading isn’t just for pleasure. Reading is for enriching the mind. We should be grabbing onto books as if they were a lifeline, not just because we like to read, but because we want to learn about how other people think, and be exposed to other ideas that we may or may not agree with.
Reading is an active experience, and we should be trying with all our force to break out of the bars of our mental prison and get out of ourselves.
That was his point.
Others in the class may have taken that to mean you have to immerse yourself in the classics, or even find authors you wouldn’t normally read. But for me, it made me look at scifi in a different light.
What about living longer than the 80 to 100 years we have now?
What about a culture where machines rule the world and humans are mere servants to those machines?
What about a human society so far in the future that the planet Earth is just a myth lost in the antiquity of time?
How would we deal with creatures that are so alien that being in the same room as they would cause a human to die, either painfully slow or instantly?
How do we deal with these things?
They’re all conceivable. Aren’t they?
We’re on the verge of exploring our galaxy now. Why shouldn’t we consider these factors and find options on how to deal with it?
So I read Heinlein and Herbert and Robinson with a thirst and hope that one day …
One day …
Maybe.
I like that.
Oh I know, some scifi stories deal with the darker side of life. There are always scifi books that deal with corruption, tyranny and power hungry people who just like to make others suffer. Those can be good reads too, just to see how the author imagines those horrors and how to deal with them. But my idea of a good read is the idealized world that has banished hunger, eliminated current illnesses and produce highly educated people who are doing what they want in life.
Because once those problems are dealt with, the author(s) can start imagining what people would be like without the pressures of day to day concerns.
And that’s what I like. The exploration of what we could become.
And since we’ll never really know for sure what we will become until we get there, one idea is as good as another. Why not explore options?
Scifi became an obsession for me back when I was in college the first time around. I liked it before, but something else was triggered back then. I blame it on a humanities instructor I had. He was small and stout, and had that look about him that said reading and writing were his idea of heaven.
You know, a nerd.
During one of his classes, we had been assigned a particular boring book to read. So dull, that most of us in the class couldn’t even get past the first chapter. I can’t even remember the name of the book, that’s how bad it was. Disturbing because what if I run into it again and waste my time reading it?
Our instructor gave us a stern talking to about how reading isn’t just for pleasure. Reading is for enriching the mind. We should be grabbing onto books as if they were a lifeline, not just because we like to read, but because we want to learn about how other people think, and be exposed to other ideas that we may or may not agree with.
Reading is an active experience, and we should be trying with all our force to break out of the bars of our mental prison and get out of ourselves.
That was his point.
Others in the class may have taken that to mean you have to immerse yourself in the classics, or even find authors you wouldn’t normally read. But for me, it made me look at scifi in a different light.
What about living longer than the 80 to 100 years we have now?
What about a culture where machines rule the world and humans are mere servants to those machines?
What about a human society so far in the future that the planet Earth is just a myth lost in the antiquity of time?
How would we deal with creatures that are so alien that being in the same room as they would cause a human to die, either painfully slow or instantly?
How do we deal with these things?
They’re all conceivable. Aren’t they?
We’re on the verge of exploring our galaxy now. Why shouldn’t we consider these factors and find options on how to deal with it?
So I read Heinlein and Herbert and Robinson with a thirst and hope that one day …
One day …
Maybe.
Monday, August 02, 2010
Books
Books are dangerous things.
My father taught me the value of reading very early on. He had to. I was raised in a school system that insisted children with any kind of learning disability were synonymous with idiocy. If he had taken the word of the school counselors and psychologists, I never would have learned to read and probably would be treated as a substandard individual even now. Fortunately, my father had different ideas.
He was convinced that if he could get me deep enough into a story, I would continue reading it on my own.
He was right.
I no longer remember what he started me on in those early days, but I do remember the Trixie Belden phase. They were the sub-standard versions of the Nancy Drew books. A rather fantastic (and not necessarily in a good way) series, of mysteries that a group of teenagers managed to run into and solve for the benefit of friends, family, community and probably the world. I remember reading those for hours on end while lounging on the big armchair in the living room.
It was while reading those books that I experienced, for the first time, the sensation of being so wrapped up in the story, that it takes a split second (that can seem like entire minutes) to figure out what the outside world was about. I think this is why I remember those books so completely.
From there I got into better things. In high school, where I would be so bored I’d beg to be allowed to stay home and left to my own devices for a few precious hours of the day, my father would hand me books that I could hide behind my textbooks and read while the teacher would lecture about whatever mundane topics he was covering. The one that springs to mind right now is A Modest Proposal by Jonathan Swift.
It’s a story about population control through cannibalism. Perhaps not the best thing to give a young teenager to read while going to school, but it happened to be in the car at the moment (don’t ask me why). The one teacher I did show it to had no idea who Jonathan Swift was, let alone what The Modest Proposal was about. Something that bothered my father, a college professor, more than surprised me. To me, all teachers were stupid. Even my father.
I was 15 going on 16; give me a break.
The next year I dropped out of school and went straight into college, but that’s a story for another time.
I have since discovered other reading gems that I have treasured and enjoyed, but now to the meat of this essay.
One book leads to another, which leads to another, and the next thing you know, you have a whole list of books that you probably will never have time to read, let alone enjoy and reread.
I have a working list of titles that I’ve been collecting off and on since high school. It runs, at the moment, to about 4500 titles. It includes everything from children's books to great classics to those titles that might be considered “alternative,” although how a book can be “alternative” I’m not really sure.
Reading is my obsession. If I don’t have anything to read, I go into a panic. At the moment, it’s not a problem though.
I just added Anais Nin to the list. The problem is, I want to read her NOW rather than after I’ve read the 4500 on the list.
And no, there’s nothing anywhere that says I have to read the list in order, but I do have a desire to read other titles at the same time. Jack Kerouac, Henry Miller and Gore Vidal are on the list, too. Not to mention Robert Heinlein, Joyce, and Nietzche.
So why am I now reading Laurell K. Hamilton’s faerie series? Which is nothing more than fluff that’s not even made from natural materials?
Because books are dangerous!!!!
While they can help wile away the time, or even give you some kind of knowledge on subjects you never heard of before, they can also lead you astray from topics that can enrich your mind.
In other words, some books are good, some are bad, and how you define those parameters is entirely up to you. For me, Henry Miller would be a better book to read, but right now, faeries are the subjects that lead me astray.
And badly written stories about faeries too.
But the erotic scenes are good.
Which is another reason Anais Nin made it to the list.
Those who have read both, will understand.
My father taught me the value of reading very early on. He had to. I was raised in a school system that insisted children with any kind of learning disability were synonymous with idiocy. If he had taken the word of the school counselors and psychologists, I never would have learned to read and probably would be treated as a substandard individual even now. Fortunately, my father had different ideas.
He was convinced that if he could get me deep enough into a story, I would continue reading it on my own.
He was right.
I no longer remember what he started me on in those early days, but I do remember the Trixie Belden phase. They were the sub-standard versions of the Nancy Drew books. A rather fantastic (and not necessarily in a good way) series, of mysteries that a group of teenagers managed to run into and solve for the benefit of friends, family, community and probably the world. I remember reading those for hours on end while lounging on the big armchair in the living room.
It was while reading those books that I experienced, for the first time, the sensation of being so wrapped up in the story, that it takes a split second (that can seem like entire minutes) to figure out what the outside world was about. I think this is why I remember those books so completely.
From there I got into better things. In high school, where I would be so bored I’d beg to be allowed to stay home and left to my own devices for a few precious hours of the day, my father would hand me books that I could hide behind my textbooks and read while the teacher would lecture about whatever mundane topics he was covering. The one that springs to mind right now is A Modest Proposal by Jonathan Swift.
It’s a story about population control through cannibalism. Perhaps not the best thing to give a young teenager to read while going to school, but it happened to be in the car at the moment (don’t ask me why). The one teacher I did show it to had no idea who Jonathan Swift was, let alone what The Modest Proposal was about. Something that bothered my father, a college professor, more than surprised me. To me, all teachers were stupid. Even my father.
I was 15 going on 16; give me a break.
The next year I dropped out of school and went straight into college, but that’s a story for another time.
I have since discovered other reading gems that I have treasured and enjoyed, but now to the meat of this essay.
One book leads to another, which leads to another, and the next thing you know, you have a whole list of books that you probably will never have time to read, let alone enjoy and reread.
I have a working list of titles that I’ve been collecting off and on since high school. It runs, at the moment, to about 4500 titles. It includes everything from children's books to great classics to those titles that might be considered “alternative,” although how a book can be “alternative” I’m not really sure.
Reading is my obsession. If I don’t have anything to read, I go into a panic. At the moment, it’s not a problem though.
I just added Anais Nin to the list. The problem is, I want to read her NOW rather than after I’ve read the 4500 on the list.
And no, there’s nothing anywhere that says I have to read the list in order, but I do have a desire to read other titles at the same time. Jack Kerouac, Henry Miller and Gore Vidal are on the list, too. Not to mention Robert Heinlein, Joyce, and Nietzche.
So why am I now reading Laurell K. Hamilton’s faerie series? Which is nothing more than fluff that’s not even made from natural materials?
Because books are dangerous!!!!
While they can help wile away the time, or even give you some kind of knowledge on subjects you never heard of before, they can also lead you astray from topics that can enrich your mind.
In other words, some books are good, some are bad, and how you define those parameters is entirely up to you. For me, Henry Miller would be a better book to read, but right now, faeries are the subjects that lead me astray.
And badly written stories about faeries too.
But the erotic scenes are good.
Which is another reason Anais Nin made it to the list.
Those who have read both, will understand.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Pyschic Spots
My own favorite meditation/visualization exercise was first introduced to me when I was a mere teenager of 15 or so. The assignment, for lack of a better word, was to create your own inner space, again for lack of a better word. It is a place where you could be completely you no matter what was going on around you. You could do actual mediation work there, or you could just head there to daydream. I do both.
It’s up on the mountains, for me. It’s nestled between two peaks clear up higher than people should be able to be (it’s my meditation, after all). But it’s not really in a valley either, because it’s still up in the mountains. Anyways, the two peaks kind of make it private. You only get there because you know it’s there.
While it’s usually day time, the sky is always dark so I can see the stars. I love seeing the stars while out in the middle of nowhere. It’s like you can reach up and grab them. I LOVE that. So naturally, in my meditation, I created a sky that was like that all the time, but this time with the right colors – a deep, deep navy blue. I love my sky.
I know some people pick grand houses with lots of rooms they can do their work in, or meadows with every kind of flower you can imagine. I knew one person who created the perfect bed for her inner space. It doesn’t matter what it is, where it is, or even what it looks like. The important thing is that you created it, it has your stamp on it and you can be totally comfortable there.
I’ve been going to my wonderful spot for years. I have it all set up just for me – my work, my play, my place to commune with myself and my god/goddess/all that is. I can be there in the space of three breaths and I can imagine it so completely that I’ve often wondered if it is a real place. Real, as in, I can get in a car and take my family there. I know it’s real in my head and my own personal universe.
I’ve done some great work there. I’ve met spirit guides, and discovered ideas for my own work with colors and crystals, and learned about my personal totems – the ones I chose and the ones that chose me. I even have found a newspaper that gets delivered there that I can read. From it, I get things and feelings that others would call psychic insight. I try not to read it too often. I like surprises. Besides, it’s the best way I can practice my free will. I don’t want to get too dependent on any kind of psychic power for soothsaying purposes.
It sounds “new age,” whatever that means, and maybe that would make some uncomfortable with it, but I’ve always felt that your own psychic spot is a very important place to develop. Everyone should have one regardless of what they call it. It’s a little vacation spot that can help you get away from “the real world” and balance yourself, find your own ground.
In order to get your goddess head going, one must have a psychic spot of their very own.
It’s up on the mountains, for me. It’s nestled between two peaks clear up higher than people should be able to be (it’s my meditation, after all). But it’s not really in a valley either, because it’s still up in the mountains. Anyways, the two peaks kind of make it private. You only get there because you know it’s there.
While it’s usually day time, the sky is always dark so I can see the stars. I love seeing the stars while out in the middle of nowhere. It’s like you can reach up and grab them. I LOVE that. So naturally, in my meditation, I created a sky that was like that all the time, but this time with the right colors – a deep, deep navy blue. I love my sky.
I know some people pick grand houses with lots of rooms they can do their work in, or meadows with every kind of flower you can imagine. I knew one person who created the perfect bed for her inner space. It doesn’t matter what it is, where it is, or even what it looks like. The important thing is that you created it, it has your stamp on it and you can be totally comfortable there.
I’ve been going to my wonderful spot for years. I have it all set up just for me – my work, my play, my place to commune with myself and my god/goddess/all that is. I can be there in the space of three breaths and I can imagine it so completely that I’ve often wondered if it is a real place. Real, as in, I can get in a car and take my family there. I know it’s real in my head and my own personal universe.
I’ve done some great work there. I’ve met spirit guides, and discovered ideas for my own work with colors and crystals, and learned about my personal totems – the ones I chose and the ones that chose me. I even have found a newspaper that gets delivered there that I can read. From it, I get things and feelings that others would call psychic insight. I try not to read it too often. I like surprises. Besides, it’s the best way I can practice my free will. I don’t want to get too dependent on any kind of psychic power for soothsaying purposes.
It sounds “new age,” whatever that means, and maybe that would make some uncomfortable with it, but I’ve always felt that your own psychic spot is a very important place to develop. Everyone should have one regardless of what they call it. It’s a little vacation spot that can help you get away from “the real world” and balance yourself, find your own ground.
In order to get your goddess head going, one must have a psychic spot of their very own.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Autumn is for soups.
Actually, I like soup any time of year, but especially in the autumn. It's nice to come home to a crock pot full of hot soup.
Today I'm making potato soup. It's a yummy, comfort dish full of potatoes, cream, onions and all the good things in the kitchen. Served with a warm loaf of French smothered in garlic butter and this chick is in Heaven!
My dad makes onion soup. OMG it's so good when he does. He uses two kinds of wine in his recipe. Just the preparation fills the house with yummy smells. You have to cook the onions (all ten of 'em) slowly over a skillet. When I say slow, I mean, it takes about 45 minutes to an hour for my dad to finish prepping the onions. Then he adds the wines and broth and yummy herbs and spices. French bread is served with this, too, along with cheese. We always use a good gruyere cheese with onion soup.
My favorite, if I have to pick a favorite, is beef stew and fry bread. OK so maybe stew isn't a soup, but it works on crisp autumn days, too. Get a hearty stew going with beef and lots of root veggies and a broth that coats the back of the spoon and Mari will eat without nary a complaint from her lips. Dip a piece of fry bread into the broth and you have food of the gods.
MMM-mmmm-mmmm!
Oh damn. I forgot about tomato soup! Especially roasted tomato soup. OOOOH that's good stuff. Roast the tomatoes with garlic, olive oil and balsamic vinegar in a low oven for a few hours and you have the base for a soup that will give Campbell's a run for their money.
Tomato soup goes way back in my family. With most kids, they get chicken soup when they're sick. We got tomato soup. I remember mother bringing me bowls of tomato soup with crackers and hot dogs. To me, it's still the best way to deal with flu.
Go forth and have soup everyone!!!!!
Today I'm making potato soup. It's a yummy, comfort dish full of potatoes, cream, onions and all the good things in the kitchen. Served with a warm loaf of French smothered in garlic butter and this chick is in Heaven!
My dad makes onion soup. OMG it's so good when he does. He uses two kinds of wine in his recipe. Just the preparation fills the house with yummy smells. You have to cook the onions (all ten of 'em) slowly over a skillet. When I say slow, I mean, it takes about 45 minutes to an hour for my dad to finish prepping the onions. Then he adds the wines and broth and yummy herbs and spices. French bread is served with this, too, along with cheese. We always use a good gruyere cheese with onion soup.
My favorite, if I have to pick a favorite, is beef stew and fry bread. OK so maybe stew isn't a soup, but it works on crisp autumn days, too. Get a hearty stew going with beef and lots of root veggies and a broth that coats the back of the spoon and Mari will eat without nary a complaint from her lips. Dip a piece of fry bread into the broth and you have food of the gods.
MMM-mmmm-mmmm!
Oh damn. I forgot about tomato soup! Especially roasted tomato soup. OOOOH that's good stuff. Roast the tomatoes with garlic, olive oil and balsamic vinegar in a low oven for a few hours and you have the base for a soup that will give Campbell's a run for their money.
Tomato soup goes way back in my family. With most kids, they get chicken soup when they're sick. We got tomato soup. I remember mother bringing me bowls of tomato soup with crackers and hot dogs. To me, it's still the best way to deal with flu.
Go forth and have soup everyone!!!!!
Sunday, January 25, 2009
By just raising one hand, he lifted a nation.
I guess I can finally be proud.
I have lived 40 years in this country with a sort of ambivalence toward patriotism. At first it was because Native Americans have gotten so shafted in history, and it hasn’t looked like that was going to change any time soon. Then I became aware of how other minorities are treated in this nation – African-Americans, Mexican-Americans, women, children, etc., etc., etc.
Then Bush came into power, and not because of any vote of mine.
Twice!
And in 8 short years he brought this nation from a functioning country with a decent standing in the world stage and a thriving economy to a nation that is falling apart. Its infrastructure is dying, foods are becoming tainted with diseases because of faulty checks in place, people are being chased out of homes and the ones who have homes are wondering when their turn will be up and our economy is going to hell in a hand basket.
But now we have Obama. His word is gold, his intentions are honorable and he has started his week with good solid decisions about domestic and international policy that is going to help restore our standing.
And he’s black.
Pride is forming.
For the first time in all of my 40 years, I am starting to be proud of being an American.
I have lived 40 years in this country with a sort of ambivalence toward patriotism. At first it was because Native Americans have gotten so shafted in history, and it hasn’t looked like that was going to change any time soon. Then I became aware of how other minorities are treated in this nation – African-Americans, Mexican-Americans, women, children, etc., etc., etc.
Then Bush came into power, and not because of any vote of mine.
Twice!
And in 8 short years he brought this nation from a functioning country with a decent standing in the world stage and a thriving economy to a nation that is falling apart. Its infrastructure is dying, foods are becoming tainted with diseases because of faulty checks in place, people are being chased out of homes and the ones who have homes are wondering when their turn will be up and our economy is going to hell in a hand basket.
But now we have Obama. His word is gold, his intentions are honorable and he has started his week with good solid decisions about domestic and international policy that is going to help restore our standing.
And he’s black.
Pride is forming.
For the first time in all of my 40 years, I am starting to be proud of being an American.
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
We Won!
Republicans might resent it for years to come, but we finally rounded a sharp corner in the history of the United States.
We have a black president.
Finally!
And us democrats?
Hell has finally died and a new day dawns.
We have something to wake up for now.
January 20, 2009 can't come soon enough.
We won!
We fucking won!!
We have a black president.
Finally!
And us democrats?
Hell has finally died and a new day dawns.
We have something to wake up for now.
January 20, 2009 can't come soon enough.
We won!
We fucking won!!
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