Positively Pessimistic Pondering Proverbial “P’s”

Monday, 29 October 2007 8:36 pm

Tonight I sit with my dictionary open, pondering the 7 P’s

Passion: A beautiful bowl of mixed nuts. Let us begin with the theological ideas associated with the passion of Christ, or the “oratorio based on a gospel narrative of the Passion” aka – Christ-like “suffering.” Um…let us venture to the more “worldly” definition ranging between ardent affection; the strong desire for / devotion to; a sexual desire; an outbreak of anger.
So…a range from anger to love to lust to deep religious sufferings. In a nutshell, let us just all get emotional.
What am I passionate about? According to our friends from Merriam Webster, any strong feeling I have could be passion. I can certainly say there is no strong sexual desire in any direction. Nor a strong suffering passion as one felt by the Christ in moments of self sacrifice. A strong desire for or devotion to…when I sit and think, I believe I must be off track somewhere because I do not feel such a strong desire for or devotion to anything. Standing outside my own shoes, many could say I have a passion for my job, for my kids. I mean, I do spend considerable time with and for those who seemingly take such a “passion” for granted. No. I cannot say I am passionately devoted to that work, unless we retreat back to that religious sacrifice thing, but... um, let’s not go there. I feel more drain from trying so hard to provide a positive environment for these kids who fight so hard to make this faith thing fit within their own individual agendas. They love the ideas, but only when it fits tucked away neatly within their sporting events and sleepovers.
A passion for my life? No. I would trade it easily. Satisfaction would fit, yet that does not begin with P. I think my passion would be more fitting as an “anti-passion:" those things which I would truly do well in their absence. Like television. And reality shows. And litter bugs. And those who would rather sit inside watching reality shows on television than enjoy the sun shining outside. A short digression of a story: the other day was a wonderfully brisk October day, not too cold as to keep you shivering in your jacket, yet not too warm as to illicit sweat as you walked three steps. So off I went with the mod squad, my three dogs, for a walk, accompanied by my friend and her little mop of a dog. As I walked around one of Pensacola’s great parks, I noticed there were not that many folks outside taking advantage of this great clear skied, October Saturday. Those who did venture out were sitting on park benches while their four legged “children” romped around in the water with the other dogs. Can we not enjoy the uninhibited play that our dogs so willingly enjoy? I do not know where my passion lays, perhaps one day I will figure it out, but as for me and my herd, we are passionate about these clear, crisp fall days in Florida which are few and far between.

Purpose: an intention, a resolution. An aim to oneself.
Ha. I must be in some form of rut. My purpose is to continue making house payments! In a perfect world, I would like to be a writer. Yet I know my writing is mediocre. Gosh. What is my purpose? It feels like trying to answer the age old question: when I die, what will I be remembered for? “Yep, that was a girl who sacrificed her social life for lives of teenagers. She owned a house, bought for the comfort of those mangy dogs. She kept and cared for her brothers crap, both literally and figuratively.” I could think of many ways in which I could have purpose, but as of current reality, my purpose does not really extend further than keeping my house clean of animal hair, the laundry done, the dishes wa"r"shed, etcetera in the domestics department.
Optimistically speaking, my purpose is to find happiness, both with others and within my own being. Watch out Buddha, here I come to sit a spell and ponder this whole happiness thing.

Pursuit: Don’t get me started on the pursuit in relation to that weeping willow of a writer in the “Eat, Pray, Love” vomit city. Pursuit: To follow up or proceed with. To engage in. Here’s my favorite: to Haunt. Oh what fun it would be to “haunt”
“To proceed with, to seek, to aim for as in a goal.” I can resemble this. I just have get my sights set in one direction. I do want to move on from this rut. And I would love to say I am active in my perusal, that pursuit
being the Mele Café. I would love to own and cook for a café all of my own and it be a wonderful commotional mingling of food, music, literature, and art. All things, ...brace for the backtrack… all things which hold my passion. Yet, I feel passion is too strong a word because when it comes to the four listed, I know mostly about food. I know some literature, but not enough, and ditto for music. As for art, we are not well acquainted. But that does not mean I would like to abandon all perusal of knowledge. I would like to reopen my sponge of a brain and begin soaking in those areas which interest my heart.
Warning… another sidetrack: Years ago, I got a degree from a university…a little no name college chosen because it was “close to home.” I got, for my person, a useless degree chosen because it was “easy.” Now don’t get me wrong, psychology is a perfectly admirable field of study. But could I do it over again, I would. I would go a more writing, journalism, artsy direction. I would study art history and try my hand in the creation of art. But my art is my cooking. And sometimes, when driven, my art is my writing.
For the final ingredient in my café: my feature of “local” flavor: local artists, musicians, writers, and such. Local talent is too easily overlooked for the pop culture trends…so there – welcome to my “five year plan.”

Position: why all these words with long definitions ranging from small to huge! Ok, let us take the easy route, and rather than dealing with the physical nature in the hierarchal arrangements of crap. let us commit our focus to the definitive point of view.
Call me Desperado, and no, I will not come down from my fences. I am proud to be a fence sitter. My Quote: “I do not feel strongly on either side of that issue.” I am my own “Devil’s Advocate.” I have no problem offering an opinion on either side of the position. I am an indigreen republicat. Don’t ask me about liberals and conservatives, I don’t know what those words really mean, and I will not pretend to care. I believe in our earth and will do what I can to help her out. I like to walk and ride my bike. I value the human life and the lifting of emotions; the building up of esteem. But I will not bomb an abortion clinic. I believe in peace. And my position will aim in that direction.

Pummeling…WHAT?? To pound or beat? What pummels me? Myself. That is easy. I am never satisfied. I feel like life has put me in a rut, and I am pummeling myself for getting here…but not to the point of never making that change. Well, some days sure, but some days no. Yea, my worst pummeling comes from me.

Progress…this is truly a joke. To proceed. To develop to a higher, better, or more advanced stage.
This comes two fold. I have progressed in the ten or so years since high school. I have a job with potential of career. I own my house. I have three farting dogs. I have progressed. I went from one job which broke me down to another job in a better situation. Yet, personally, I don’t like where I am. I could think now to many other paths I would have preferred had I taken the time to stop and think and really follow some instincts. Though I cannot honestly say those “passions” were apparent when I was in my younger 20’s. I feel they have surfaced in the past four or so years. So when you look at those realizations of passions over my recent history, I have progressed none at all. I am still in a job that wears me out, praying that it DOES NOT become career. But trudging along because I need that house payment. Since when was that sufficient motivation for an “X-er”?

Personality…the quality or state of being a person. I love Merriam Webster, state of being a person, "I think, therefore I am." Here we go…the complex of characteristics that distinguishes an individual or a nation or group. The totality of an individual’s behavioral and emotional characteristics. I love it, “the totality”
Are we ever totally fit within our personality? It changes with our situations. I can be a lighthearted air head not caring about what others think of me. Then I can be a sarcastic conversationalist wanting others to think of me. Then I can be a defensive brat denying what others think of me. And I can be a solitary ghost not wanting others to think of me. And I am happy on all levels, pending the mood, the situation, and the company all match like bed in a bag special at Wal Mart.
My personality: I am generally a happy, sarcastic giver who will do anything for another with good ol’ southern hospitality, but given the opportunity, would be just as happy cozying up on the couch with a good book, sans company save the farting dogs. I think I am easily liked, when you can crack an initially shy outer covering. I do not have many friends, but the ones I do have will be around for a long while. I can fly by the seat of my pants, so long as I can bring the herd or find them a sitter, I am truly game for just about anything. Though mind you, do not make me choose, because as I said before, I really do not have a strong opinion either way in the matter. My personality is about as complex, yet adaptable, as these “P” definitions in the Merriam Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary.

Thank you, and good night.

From the Halls of Montezuma

Tuesday, 25 September 2007

War. Now there is a tiny three letter word with controversy buzzing around it like flies around...well, you get the picture. War. It is all around us..."This means war!" "Battle of the Sexes" "You gotta fight for your right" "Halo 3."

We live in a nation that fought hard for independence, that fought hard to preserve the rights of individuals being killed for their religious beliefs...we fought because we wanted claim to land we "discovered," we fought because we believed others "needed" our help. We fought, sometimes for right, and we fought, sometimes for wrong.
When our enemies attack, flying over our own soil, killing thousands of innocents simply because we are "Americans," we retaliate. We reach out the large hand of American Power and slap those enemies to submission, showing we are not a country to disturb…
Yet…
We have also gotten that war lust glint in the eye, leading to senseless massacres of thousands of innocents guilty only of living upon “enemy” soil. It makes me wonder, whatever happened to turning the other cheek?

Now, do not get me wrong. I do at times understand the necessity to protect and preserve a freedom we fought hard to gain. But when does it cease to be a war of rights and turn to a war of power?? We have all seen the headlines. The media goes on feeding frenzies around politics, world leaders, who is "in" and who is "out" and why everything is wrong. I want our military to come home, but I also do not want our country put at risk of being shot in the back by cowards...again. But mostly, I do not want more senseless killings to continue on either side of the ocean. There is nothing worse than death for greed. And I just pray that neither side continue for this sick lust.

I do not know enough about the politics of war to continue these thoughts without sounding like an ignoramus. What I do know is that wars can get out of hand, like a sibling fight “She’s hitting me,” “He hit me first,” “I barely touched you,” “You didn’t have to hit me twice.” I remember the ol’ days with my two brothers, I know how it all goes. Little bro hits, you hit little bro harder, big bro offers a right- left combo to your face, you reach for a baseball bat…

NO!! That last bit was an exaggeration…though I cannot count on one hand how many times we have had to visit the emergency room…

Anyway, back to today. What is going to happen? That is my question. We were hurt. We retaliated. They can possibly retaliate further (wait, did we actually find any W.M.A.s…) So before they have the opportunity to retaliate, let us continue to push down with all our force. For how much longer? Why do we have to keep sending…when will they come home, duty done, world safe (well, I guess never would be the answer to that last one).

I do not like thinking about conflict. It hurts. But what hurts more is the fact that he, an “ex” with whom I have spent 8 years of my life, will be flying over to Iraq around midnight tonight. I fear for him. Do not get me wrong, he signed up for this… It is by his choice. Which is where I have a hard time offering sympathy when he calls with the “if I do not make it back” conversations. It is where we are divided. He says he will die with pride, I say he will die with stupidity. He is excited, I am sick to my stomach. He has chosen his path, and I will pray for his safe return… that is all the support I can offer.

May this marine go, may he stay strong, “…may (he) keep the courage to be proficient in (his) daily performance. Keep (him) loyal and faithful to (his) superiors and to the duties (his) Country and the Marine Corps have entrusted to (him). Help (him) to wear (his) uniform with dignity, and let it remind (him) daily of the traditions which (he) must uphold. If (he is) inclined to doubt, steady (his) faith; if (he is) tempted, make (him) strong to resist …
Guide (him) with the light of truth and grant (him) wisdom by which he may understand the answer to (his) prayer.” {portions taken from “The Marine’s Prayer”}

Bird by Bird

Thursday, 20 September 2007

I have not yet been able to begin.
I have tried several times to just start, but as I look at the blank screen, I know that nothing I type feels right.
It reminds me of being in school, and a paper is due the next day. I know what to include in the body of the report, I even know how to illustrate the conclusion, but I sit, and look at blank sheets of paper. All because simply, I do not know how to begin. You know what I'm talking about. Some call it writers block, but don't you have to at least be moving before blockage occurs? What do the proverbial “they” call it when you cannot even begin: writers stall at the go line?

Anne Lamott tells a story of her brother. He had a paper to write. The assignment was something to do with North American birds, and like a normal student, he waited until the night before to begin writing. With a panic rising in his chest, he turns to his father the writer, asking, pleading, hoping, I assume, for his dad to write the paper for him. But his dad offers simple advice, advice which later Anne borrows to title a book I love to turn to in my own moments of writers fuzz. Dad says simply, “son, take it bird by bird.”
My cousin emailed me the other day, well, in light of my proficient ability to procrastinate, it may actually have been a month ago…alas my brain wonders…
Anywho, my cousin excitedly messaged me that her English class had discussed an excerpt from said Lamott book, ma cousine remembering my winds of praise over the book during her past visit. Thus a spark of inspiration. Luckily, said spark lasted over a month - with me, staring at a blank sheet of paper trying still to figure out how to begin.

I have them, several little birds of ideas fluttering about in a spiral, waiting to be drawn upon with letters, paragraphs, grammar, syntax, rhythm, vocabulary, WORDS. And I just need to put them out there, bird by bird, topic by topic.
Yes, they are there, nesting in my spiral. Such snippets come and run circles around my imagination while I am trying to sleep, the time already ticking WAY past my bedtime. Better yet, they come while I am driving and cause serious road faux pas as I try to write (yes, write…writing and driving, I do not suggest) a quick word or phrase to re-spark that train of thought when I am in much safer writing conditions (sitting at a red light). Or my mind is moving so quickly between one idea and the next item on my to-do list, the next program plan for my youth, or the next song lyric, which reminds me of that sensational idea I had yesterday for a title, what was I going to say about it? hm…the spaghetti squash needs to be cooked tonight before I forget…did the dog just fart again, phew he reeks…now what was I just thinking…

Think my mental flashes are job hazards in and of themselves, just wait until I pull out my soap box. I think a major excuse for me not posting my little birds is that lurking soap box, graffitied with ideas and opinions like an old sea trunk plastered in travel stickers. It is true, each of my topics stand alone…with me perched at some point upon a box with a “now here is my issue with this situation…” This actually does scare me because I do not like sharing a strong opinion in any direction, except to those friends and family whom I trust will offer decent conversation rather than degradation. Really, I would rather not share some thoughts on a public blog site so every person’s mother’s uncle can read and think me ig-nant. And really, I do not mind you having your own opinion, it is just that I would really hate to tell you how wrong and ig-nant YOU are!
Just Kidding.

My birds are there, I hear them fluttering in my head. Often, though I sit, and words fail. Getting these birds into readable print proves difficult. But when they do light inside my spiral, I will gladly toss them on to you…and though I will try to keep the soap box under the nest, I cannot guarantee I will never stand tall when something really pulls at my feathers. Just allow me to my opinion, as I will allow you to yours.

So, do you grow weary of the bird-brained vignettes? I promise to quit chirping about it tomorrow, when the early bird finishes her worm.