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 |  Thoughts and deeds taking me on my path toward insanity. |
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** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Please visit me for updates on the Myth to Life series as well as other writings, don't forget to leave a message in the guestbook, and join the site at: http://www.eairwin.webs.com I would love to hear from you! |
| Lads and Lasses; I'm off to the Highland Games. Wish you were here to share in the fun of a caber toss and a chance to check out shiny swords - always a favorite of mine. Here's a little poem I wrote a while back to honor the day. Enjoy! Celtic Pride A sea of multi-colored plaid covering the lush green glen, heralding each clan to be led, crying—let the games begin. The drone of filling bagpipes blend with drums, a mighty chorus, swords and unfurled banners send warriors out before us. Highland lasses with swords to lay, dancing the Gille Calum straw bundles beckoning the fray to the Sheaf Toss, give them room. Heavy shooters take center stage proclaiming real men wear kilts, with daggers strapped upon their legs, small dragon winks from the hilt. What looks like a telephone pole is not, it’s the Caber Toss, balance, run, don’t step in a hole and suffer a clansman’s loss. A hammer over the shoulders, or thrown above a high bar, that Celt with muscles like boulders, his legs were the best by far. This lass loves the sporting events, music and piping is bliss, appeals to my spirit and sense, weekends I never would miss. I love watching the plaid pleats fly, my emotions run full tilt, he winks, I can’t help but smile, I know what is under his kilt. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Ta, P |
| Hello people; I can honestly say that the past several weeks have been more than a tad insane in my mind. Working with family while trying to remain focused when all you want to say is 'shut the fuck up while I think' has been a little mind-numbing and pushed me near the brink of anarchy. Who am I fooling, anarchy is a wonderful state of mind these days as I linger near its border. Sorry for the bad word, but, alas this is truth in its unvarnished form. So, in the spirit of the insane moment, I offer a few quotes to read while I calm my spirit and come back next week with more witty sayings or my expose on anger, which is still taking form in my head like a giant thunderhead. But I'm smiling.  ~ Quotes of the Day ~ “The distance between insanity and genius is measured only by success.” - Bruce Feirstein “For me, insanity is super sanity. The normal is psychotic. Normal means lack of imagination, lack of creativity.” - Jean Dubuffet “The insane, on occasion, are not without their charms” - Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. “Insanity is my only means of relaxation” - Anon “Insanity is often the logic of an accurate mind overtaxed.” - Oliver Wendell Holmes “Insanity destroys reason, but not wit.” - Nathaniel Emmons “The thoughts written on the walls of madhouses by their inmates might be worth publicizing.” - Georg Christoph Lichtenberg “What is insanity, anyway? Is it when you scream and everyone else whispers, or is it when you fight for what's right, even when everyone else thinks your wrong?” - Anon “Welcome to my nightmare. I think you're going to like it. There'll be some more when you come down.” - Alice Cooper Well, someone ought to find something to their liking among all of these quotes. If not, send me one you like and I'll post it for you. Tomorrow the Highland Games are in town. WooHoo, men in kilts rock! I'll tell you of the fun when next we meet. Until then, ta and peace from Shamrock Central. P |
~ Quote of the Day ~ “Compromise is never anything but an ignoble truce between the duty of a man and the terror of a coward.” - Unknown |
| Hello People; I've been without Internet access for about a week ... kind of maddening ... kind of refreshing while I turned myself to other things besides typing in a cyberspace world. While you're in deep thought, please take a moment to remember those who died, along with their families, on this day, six years ago. I thought you might appreciate a joke after my long absence. If not, I guess you get to search out someone else's blog and find salacious intimate details of them making love to their beloved, or a rant on some particular daily nuisance. Now, I will admit to ranting with unbridled passion, however, you're not going to see the intimate details of something extremely personal with emoticons ranging from blushing to winks adorning the page. Oops, almost slipped into a full-fleged rant there. Sorry. So, on with the joke: Blonde on Blonde... A blonde was speeding in a 35 mile per hour zone when a local police cruiser pulled her over. The police officer who walked up to the car also happened to be a blonde. She asked for the blonde's driver's license. The driver searched frantically in her purse for a while and finally said to the blonde policewoman, "What does a driver's license look like?' Irritated, the blonde cop said, "You dummy, it's got your picture on it!" The blonde driver frantically searched her purse again and found a small, rectangular mirror down at the bottom. She held it up to her face and said, "Aha! This must be my driver's license", then handed it to the blonde policewoman. The blonde cop looked in the mirror, handed it back to the driver and said, "You're free to go. And, if I had known you were a police officer too, we could have avoided all of this."  See, I can even laugh at being blonde. ~ Quote of the Day ~ "Communism doesn't work because people like to own stuff." - Frank Zappa Ta and peace for today, P |
~ Quote of the Day ~ “Anger is a great force. If you control it, it can be transmuted into a power which can move the whole world.” ~ William Shenstone I have much more to say on the subject of anger since it is one of the greater emotions that keeps us from healing physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. Have a wonderful day, I'll be back in a few. Ta and peace, P |
Happy Labor Day! Party your buns off! Don't forget to put away your white shoes! Ta and peace, P |
| Hello people; First, I'd like to thank everyone that has stood by me and prayed for me daily as I've wandered through the labyrinth of the not quite well. I do feel your prayers and appreciate each one of you for remembering me in this special way. Friends and prayers find a way to my heart that little else does, for these are the important things in life, not what we monetarily bring to ourselves, but what we experience in our spirit and walk with God. I was finally able to get back to the doctor, after his extremely long vacation, and received the tests results that were out there in limbo waiting for me. I know this is an answer to prayer because the radiologist had definitely seen something undefined on my chest x-ray ... either a mass or a tortured aorta, which precipitated me getting a CAT-scan of my chest. The doctor told me that no mass was found in the lungs, and despite the continued COPD and asthma, my lungs didn't sound too bad. What a wonderful thing to hear since all I'd heard for months was the nagging rasping of my lungs as they struggled for breath. Later that day, after the doctor had spoken with the radiologist, I was called and advised that the aorta at this time didn't seem to be affected. Wow, what a relief. A portion of the heart is still enlarged, however a trip to the cardiologist has been put on hold as I deal with other health issues. I truly am blessed that the urgency level there has dropped a notch because I am really frightened and trying to put all fear out of my mind. Some days that isn't quite as easy as I portray for all to read. Even greater news was that all my bloodwork came back within the normal range despite everything that has been happening. I will put in a little commercial for rolled oats. You know, the kind you cook for five minutes? I have been diligently eating the oats as well as shredded wheat to work at keeping my cholesteral in a good range. When I got the test results, my cholesteral was great, the bad cholesteral was very low, and my good cholesteral was quite high. So let's here it for oats. Yay! And people, what's five minutes out of your day to cook the bloody stuff? Don't do quick oats or the instant stuff if you're trying to reduce your numbers, sorry, it just won't work. Eat the oats, do your heart a favor. Aaaaaaaagh! Oops, just fell off my soap box while doing the commercial for Quaker. By the way, store brands are just as effective. Okay, done with my ode to oats. Okay, some things I hadn't shared when I got the CAT-scan, was that I have a very large mass on my thyroid and it is displacing my trachea, so that might be some of the problem sleeping as well as eating. I am currently in search of a ears/nose/throat specialist that will hopefully diagnose this properly and then remove the mass. I am at the point where if I were in the doctor's office and he said that I needed surgery, I would ask him if I could call someone to pick me up so he could remove the thing on the spot. Frankly I'm too tired to deal with anything other than the immediate surgery, and the less time I have to dwell on the situation and make myself more depressed, all the better. I also found out that my pancreas was atrophic and was stressed. With the latest trip to the doctor, he told me, as with my heart, that I needed to keep it de-stressed. Hmmm stress seems to be a recurring theme here, don't you think? Anyway, I'm trying to be good and not eat much sugar or carbs so I can rest the poor thing, which I'm sure will also help my heart in the long run. Gosh, was this boring or what? I just wanted to catch you up on a little bit of what's been happening while I'm not tending to my blog. Once again, I appreciate your thoughts and prayers more than you will ever know. I keep your prayer requests tacked to the message board by my computer so I'm able to see and touch those also in need. If you feel you'd like me to pray for you as well, drop me a note and onto the board you'll go. I do not say this lightly ... some of you out there have kept me alive when I thought I wasn't going to make it. I care deeply for each one of you. I'll write more in a few days about my trip to Monterey, as well as a few other things that have occurred here at Shamrock Central. Ta and peace for today, P |
| Hey Everyone; According to my little blog calendar, it's been ten days since I wrote in this bloody thing. I'm just glad that I was able to dismantle the blog reminder a while ago that incessantly told me I hadn't been attending to business by writing in my blog. As if I needed another mother.  I've been SLOWLY going through all my e-mails I've received over the past few months and have found many that I thought I'd responded to, however in my drugged and sickened state I actually hadn't. If you happen to be one of those people who wrote or reviewed something in my port, I am terribly sorry, and I will get to you ASAP because it's important I thank you for taking the time to read some of my work. The past week has been odd, somewhat interesting, more than a tad frustrating, and at times overly hectic. I decided I'd break a bit of it down in future entries so all of you weren't inundated with fantastic minutia all in one sitting, thereby rendering you useless for the remainder of the day. However, this isn't going to be the day that I start.I should be finishing my last two poems so I can complete my class, I'm not in the mood to do that since it takes more concentration than I'd like to admit when I switch from horror and thriller stories to wonderous enrapturing words of enlightment through poetry. Right. That's my excuse du jour anyway. Speaking of French ... odd segueway. I did purchase a learning CD for French and hope to pop that into the old computer soon and see if I can remain inept in yet another language. What I really need is a laptop so I can drag the thing around with me and write and such since it gets tiring sitting at my computer all day. One day perhaps since the last test would have covered the cost of that wanted item, however it is only wanted, not needed. I'm really happy I have my computer hooked to a wall and am able to communicate in the world of cyberspace, so for now I'm content with the situation. Well I'm off to do the mundane, things that have gotten a little out of control as I worked my way through other mundane things last week. While I'm cleaning and fighting my lifelong foe - paper, I'll leave you with something to listen to. Mozart is one of my favorite classical composers. I know you're probably surprised to hear that since I put alternative rock lyrics here. However, Mozart's Requiem is one of my favorite works by him. I've sung the requiem several times and have never grown tired of singing or listening to it. I wrote a long fight scene that encompassed the choral portions of the requiem. Quite vivid as I lived through the music and it spilt to the page in words. Here is one of the faster pieces of the requiem, Dies irae, a chorus that invigorates me each time it's played. No, unfortunately I didn't get to sing along with Leonard Bernstein. Darn. Enjoy. Ta and peace for today, P http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nl-wRbJoWVA Here are the words, both in Latin and the English translation. Dies irae Dies irae, dies illa Solvet saeclum in favilla, teste David cum Sibylla. Quantus tremor est futurus, quando judex est venturus, cuncta stricte discussurus! Day of wrath, day of anger will dissolve the world in ashes, as foretold by David and the Sibyl. Great trembling there will be when the Judge descends from heaven to examine all things closely. |
| Hi, hi; Last Saturday night when my sister and I were leaving Monterey (California), we had to stop at a gas station for the obligatory fill-up, washing of car windows, making sure the bathroom necessities were taken care of, etc. It was around 9:30 or so when we pulled into the station. I was driving and got out to start cleaning the windows while my sister starting filling the gas tank. Retrieving the squiggie from the black container that holds the water and paper towels was a tad bothersome since I had to run the squiggie around the bottom of an almost dry container, and that particular side held no paper towels to wipe the streaks off the window. Undaunted by lack of proper tools, I jammed the sponge side of the squiggie onto the windshield so any lingering water would come out. I swished and then swiped, or should I say heavily dragged the rubber side along the window hoping to scrape bug intestines from my field of vision. I had to keep pressing since my water allotment was nearing an end. My sister kept calling from the back of the car, which I can only say ended up sounding like a part of conversation from the movie Rain Man when she repeatedly asked, "Did you get a paper towel to wipe off the streaks? You should get a paper towel so you can see through the windshield." Well duh. My continued reply was, "There aren't any paper towels in this black thing and I'll search some out when I'm through trying to drag the four drops of water from a lifeless squiggie off the windshield." Not quite those words, but close. Rain Man continued with her statements while I proceeded to advance on the other side of the car with my attitude toward gas station helpfulness altered. I don't know why I looked up from my task, but suddenly an older man started toward me with a sort of unsure smile on his face. He held a paper towel in his hand, although his arm was extended straight in front of him, as if he weren't sure I would accept it. Or maybe he just had arthritis and his arm was stiff from the weather starting to cool. Whichever the circumstance, his arm looked awkward and the paper towel hung there like a tan paper hanky in the hand of an English fop. I walked toward him with what I hoped was a winning smile and accepted the proffered gift, exclaiming as I took it from his stiff hand, "Why, aren't you nice." He smiled and went back to his SUV, while I started the task of polishing the dried streaks to shiny perfection. Let me say sometimes there are a lack of nice people in the world, so it was really nice to have that small bit of graciousness from a gentleman. Well, we couldn't get into a bathroom at the station, so we hit the marina and the bathrooms there were closed as well. My sister and I traipsed through a bar like we knew what we were doing, found the bathroom and did our thing. I don't recall looking in the mirror then since all I wanted to do was leave before I had to buy a drink, thus precipitating another trip to the ladies room. By the time we hit Los Banos, which was another hour and a half away from home, I needed some caffeine and thought I might as well do the whole bathroom thing again. This time the lights of the bathroom were stark, nothing like the subdued hole lighting in the bar that apparently was used so the patrons wouldn't wake up from their drunken stupor and stop drinking. Anyway, I looked in the mirror and cracked up after my initial shock. Early that morning I'd but some hair gel on my hair and dried it, then sprayed it since I knew we were going to be outside in the elements all day. I'd left with soft curls, but when I looked in the mirror Medusa appeared with a head full of snakes ready to attack. Apparently the humidity and wind hooked up with mythical delight, transforming me into a true beauty. All I could think about was the man with his extended arm, shyly gracing me with a paper towel. I laughed louder as I thought about him looking into the eyes of Medusa and drying from fright. Gosh, my beauty never ends. Now I have something else to wonder about when I do my freaky hair. Maybe being a gargon is the thing that's kept me single. People are just afraid to date women with magnetic eyes and snakes adorning their hair. Such is my life. Ta for today ... peace. P |
| Hello People; Gotcha! You do know that you're supposed to make people want to read your ramblings by putting something outrageous in the title, don't you? Oh, you hadn't? Maybe I got that all wrong and it was supposed to be the first paragraph that caught their attention. I've lost you already. Okay, since I'm tres, tres single, I thought I'd show you a picture of my latest boyfriend. He's a Celt - wouldn't have it any other way (maybe) and since he's a Celt he likes to show his legs. Yep, REAL MEN WEAR KILTS. I simply love that. Every time I go to the Highland Games there are scads of men showing a bit of gam, that is whatever part of the leg that's exposed and not covered by knee socks holding a dirk (no that isn't a dwarf named Dirk, but a small dagger). I digress. Anyway, the ones that participate in the actual games of hammer throws and such do wear lycra bike shorts, which are also nice, under their plaid, pleated skirts. And the first thing you have to remember is they aren't skirts (perish the thought) since that will protect your nose when you say "hey, I like your skirt" to a 6'4" man outfitted for battle. Here's his picture. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Isn't he the perfect man? But you say, "he has no head!" I know, isn't it wonderful? He lost it while gazing across the glen at me. And just think, now he isn't confused when I tell him something (since I'm blonde), nor does he ramble at inopportune moments while I'm flirting with another skirt. Plus, you get to imagine how extremely good looking he is while you take in his physique. We met online and you know how some of those relationships tend to not go well, so by him not having a head he really doesn't get to voice his opinion on much. Tres bon is all I have to say about that. You know, I think I should run a contest so everyone gets a chance to give him a proper name, because 'Stud in a Skirt' is growing old no matter how much I love him. Give me your thoughts on that, or just tell me what we should name my guy. Make it good, who knows, I might kick in some gift points just to make this interesting. Well, that's it from Shamrock Central for today. I'm off for bean sidhe (banshee) training since my singing voice is kind of funky from all the meds and it gives me something to do with all my angst. Ta and Peace, P |
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