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 |  Mulling, culling, and musing the confusing... in Blog format. |
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** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** I stand in awe of life's predisposition for imploding, swiftly morphing into a churning, perilous vortex that mankind is hard-pressed to navigate, let alone survive. Maintaining a foothold and emerging from the gales unscathed seems wholly contingent upon survivors' personal philosophies, capacity for tolerance, and coping skills. Without these, the vortex becomes the portal to a toxic black void, and man stands naked in the spiralling eddy, awaiting the final flush.** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Monsters Evil incarnate to their kind gives rise, their nourishment found in blood-curdling fear; horror-swept dreamscapes they stalk in disguise, unleashing terror, they draw ever near. Defiled wombs in hell to their kind give birth to seek symbiosis with souls in need; in lost and rejected spirits on earth ~ on their very marrow, such monsters feed. Iced are their fingers and vacant, their stare, black are their hearts, sustained by putrid breath; sucking the lifeblood imperilled souls share to spew forth their spawn of hatred and death. But they may not linger where Faith abides... for Hope's children fear not their raging tides. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** The mission of this journal is to examine life issues that precipitate the storms and seek out the balms that soothe the wounds they inflict. It is my fervent hope that philosophically autopsying life issue outcomes will provide comfort in the midst of chaos and a keenly longed-for measure of inner peace. Bear in mind, dear Reader, that the thoughts to follow are only musings and by no means assertions of right or wrong. They are but a reflection of one soul's yearning to ascend from the roots of life to its flowering branches and taste of the fruits found therein. How, if at all, savory their flavors are deemed to be and whether or not they become a staple in one's spiritual diet is left to each reader's own palate. The journey thus begins...
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We're home from the hospital and I'm exhausted, with much more to be done before I sleep, so I'll settle for a short entry in keeping with the Thanksgiving Holiday at hand...
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| I'm almost positive now that my sweet Moose is going to make it... no thanks to the lowlife creep who abandoned him to wander and starve to the point of collapsing in the middle of a busy, four lane residential street, unable to walk another step. In the best interests of my blood pressure, I'll refrain from speaking further on the topic of how I feel about such people for the time being... Compared to his condition when I blogged about him here on November 2nd, Moose is fast becoming an ever more magnificent creature with every passing day. His horrible bilateral eye infection is nearly vanquished, his coat absolutely glistens in the sun, he is now free of hundreds of ticks and fleas, and... wonder of wonders... he is eating voluntarily and robustly, keeping his food down, gaining weight, and filling out to beautiful canine fruition. My GAWD, this is one gorgeous doggie - how anyone could look upon this wondrous being and turn their back on him is absolutely beyond me. As you can readily see in the photos below, there is magic in him, evident for all the world to see. Not only is he phenomenally physically comely - from within his very being an even greater beauty shines forth and is evidenced in a plethora of ways. Numbering high among these is his sweet, gentle nature and infinite patience with and tender affection for his rambunctious, far more diminutive siblings, as you'll see below in the photo of him with his canine sister and brother, Peanut and Lowrider. He's every bit as tenderly considerate of the kitties in residence at Casa Kelly. ANYway... he's a miracle on four paws. An angel in a black fur coat... and in full possession of my heart... BEFORE... and AFTER !!! ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** CASA KELLY'S CANINE CREW... ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| I saw an episode of Will and Grace last night that cracked me up... so much so that I'm still guffawing about it even today. Jack's young son and his adult fem fatale buddy, Karen, were spending some time together because Jack wanted them to get to know and start liking one another. They started talking about phone pranking and the kid tells Karen he likes to call delicatessens and ask if they have pig's feet. When they say yes, the kid replies, "I bet you have a hard time finding shoes". I don't know why, but picturing the facial expression of the prankee at that precise, immediately post-pranked moment never ceases to press my Guffaw button... you see, I, too, along with my sister and several childhood (and later, college -  ) chums, were masters of phone pranking. You just go through the phone book, find potential victims with the right last names or business names, and let the good times roll. Among my fondly remembered favorites:Is this the White House? (Yes, it is) May I speak to Dick Nixon, please? Is this the Green house? (Yes, it is) I'd like to order a pot of geraniums... Do you have Prince Phillip in a Box? (Yes, we do) Well let him out, he's late for supper... Is your refrigerator running? (Yes, it is) I just spotted it southbound on Michigan Avenue... Is my Mommy there? (No, she's not) Well when she gets there, tell her Daddy knows. Then, of course, there was the ever-popular entertainment of calling bowling alleys, recreation/sports centers, etc. and requesting that they page Ima Byrd or Jack Mehoff...  .....and those warm summer nights we spent many a gleeful hour frantically waving down passing cars and when they stopped, yelling Your wheels were going around, but it's ok now ... they stopped! So tell me, fellow pen-wranglers... what deep, dark Prankster Tales do you have to share? |
| Shame on you, California. For a state long considered an enlightened trendsetter, your stubborn stance against allowing homosexual couples to commit to one another in marriage is a slap in the face of countless citizens who happened to be born gay... and happen to want to enter into a lifetime, legally recognized marital relationship. You would see approximately ten percent of our entire population denied the right to love and wed, and all the attendant privileges, benefits, and fulfillment a loving marriage can bring. And let's face it, folks... with the divorce rate in this country now approaching fifty percent, heterosexual marriages are not exactly today's be-all, end-all epitome of Heavenly made matches. "Homosexulity is abnormal!" comes your collective, tiresome battle cry. If by "abnormal", you mean 'out of the ordinary' , 'different', or so in the minority as to be somehow inherently wrong, then perhaps we should disallow marriages between geniuses, the artistically/musically gifted, those who are disabled, renown surgeons, Nobel Prize recipients, or any other two human beings we view as exceeding or falling short of our concept of "the norm". My, my... wouldn't that make for a daunting legislative task of sifting the chaff from the wheat in the U.S. Department of Who May Legally Do What? Let's not forget, by the way... just a few short decades ago, consensual oral sexual activity - even between a husband and a wife - was considered a "sin" and a crime in a vast majority of the United States. As for those who, eyes bulging and countenances decidedly cyanotic, jump up and down and point to biblical directives such as "Man shall not spill his seed on the ground"... you amuse and confuse me most of all. You are relying upon words written thousands upon thousands of years ago that include in their midst proclamations that women are man's lessers and too unclean while menstruating to enter God's place of worship. You pluck forth and then banty about phrases from the Bible seemingly supportive of your judmentalism and intolerance... even as you wholly ignore God's own Son's directive to love one another and "Judge not, lest ye be judged". For those who counter, "Love the sinner but not the sin", I submit that God does not make mistakes... including what physical body will house the souls He sends to earth. Homosexuality is no more a choice than heterosexuality is - when we become aware of our sexuality in adolescence, we do not then make a consious decision that the opposite or our own gender is attractive to us... one or the other simply is. For any mere mortal to deem themself worthy of decrying homosexuality as a "sin" is monumentally presumptive, egotistical, and off the charts in terms of living a "Godly existence". And the sooner you cease spewing forth your own special brand of hatred, prejudice, and intolerance, regardless of how deftly couched in the name of God and piety, the sooner we can go about the business of why our Creator put us on earth together to begin with... doing for and unto one another as we would have done for and unto ourselves. And so, California... I hope you change your mind. I hope you decide to lead the way into an enlightened future as opposed to a retreat into the Dark Ages. And I hope the rest of this nation opts to follow you into the light. |
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** September arrives and nature takes note. The whispers of chilled breaths speak of change on the wing... the time draws nigh for a last celebration. Garbed in splendored array, joyously dancing and singing, mindful of slumber to come. Vivid hues disguise pallored wisps of smoke attesting to the deaths of the children born to Spring under warm skies... once budding revelations. Spent, their numbered days, they know what Winter is bringing... their time for living is done. By their demise, renewed life evoked; defied, the grasp of death by gestating offspring. Asleep, but soon to rise... May's rapt anticipation. Painted days danced away... Fall's songs in ears still ringing throughout the slumber to come. |
| I'm watching, heart pounding and scarcely able to breathe, the joyous crowd of human beings of every race, religion, color, and creed celebrating together in Times Square right now. I know I'll forever savor this moment of consummate pride in my country, all it can and should stand for, and all it possesses the potential to become. A nation is self-actualizing this night, its citizens standing united in all their diversified glory and bloom. We have spoken with our votes and invested our most sacred trust and faith in the man we deemed most deserving of that faith and best suited for the monumental task of leading this nation through the next four crucial years. We voted not for black or white... not for man or woman... not even for Republican or Democrat. Facing great trials, we listened, questioned, reasoned, contemplated, and finally came together, shoulder to shoulder, to vote for the best. As a nation we have at long last stepped across a line in the sand... and freed ourselves to seek out an oasis beyond. Tonight, our country gained monumental ground toward at long last reaching the mountain top. And before I rest this night of nights, I plan to drink a toast. Abraham, Martin, Bobby, John, and all who walked with and beside you... this one's for you. Let us never surrender the sacred ground for which you fought and died. We're different tonight. We're forever changed. And we're infinitely better for the task. |
| Three weeks or so ago, while driving home from work, I happened across a scene that, though horrifying and causative of deepest kind of bruising a beating heart can sustain, is neither the first nor the last such tableau I'll experience the misfortune of witnessing. Approximately three blocks from my residence, in the middle of the street and right smack in front of a home where a controlling "boyfriend" shot and killed his estranged girlfriend just a little over a month ago, lay a large black doggie, motionless in the middle of the street. Across the street on the other side, a woman out on a playground with some preschoolers was watching as I stopped to check on the poor dog, a coal black Labrador Retriever/Great Dane Mix which, though already quite large in terms of bone structure, could easily be recognized as still in puppyhood, having not yet "grown into" his ginormous paws and oversized head. As I approached the imperiled creature on foot, my car with its flashers activated to block traffic from hitting it, it lay very still, and my heart rate quickened at the thought of the injuries he might present. I steeled myself for the pain and tears that were sure to come should I reach him only to find that he was, in fact, deceased. I was stunned when, as I drew near, he first lifted his majestic head, then struggled to roll over from his side to his belly and regarded me with the saddest, most knowing, most deeply suffering pair of eyes I've ever beheld. The suffering, I was soon to discover, was not due to any apparent external injuries - it stemmed, instead, from the cruelest form of neglect and abandonment imaginable - he'd been turned out weeks before and left to wander and slowly starve to death. And still, after all the pain and betrayal, those deep-sunk and pain-filled eyes conveyed no trace of aggression or fear - only quiet, desperate hope. He did not whimper or growl as I gathered his skeletal body up in my arms and carefully laid him in the back seat of my trusty Tempo. And so it was that Moose found a new and loving home. But the jury is still out regarding whether he'll survive the ordeal. This sweet, incredibly gentle and affectionate giant was so starved and dehydrated that he'd literally "forgotten" how to eat or drink. If force fed, his tummy could only handle tiny quantities because so many days and weeks had passed since he'd digested anything. This massively structured, noble creature could barely walk and was nothing but skin covering bones. In fact, his condition has improved so gradually that not until today have I been able to bring myself to write about him, for fear of losing him and the grief that loss will bring. As we take each day one at a time,though, it is his utter trust, faith, and hope that fuels my own. Each day he takes more and more food spontaneously, with a decreasing need to force feed him lilliputian quantities 6 to 8 times per day. The horrendous eye infection secondary to his ematiated state and compromised immune system is abating, and he's drinking water without having to be prompted. Just this morning, he actually nuzzled at my hand to hurry me along in delivering him his quartered hardboiled eggs - which, along with hot dogs, he (for reasons known only unto himself) much prefers over the most tempting brands and flavors of canned dog food. From his very first night here, even before he grew steadier in his gait and took his first drink of water, Moose demonstrated himself to be one of the most loving companions I've ever had the privilege of encountering. He nuzzles and cuddles with his sisters and bros of the fur, be they canine or feline, and loves nothing more than lying fully extended alongside the length of my slumbering form after the household calls it a night. When he does so, he's longer than I am! Dear GAWD, I hope paramedics never have to come rescue my unconscious body - what a sight they'd be in for... .As of this writing, though I've posted innumerable notices and classified ads, no one has stepped forward to claim this beautiful boy. Which might just be a good thing... if I do locate whoever did this to my sweet Moosemeister, be it with malice of forethought or due to ignorance/indifference... it will be very difficult to refrain from wringing their neck with my bare, white-knuckled hands. Whoever you are - you're an utter fool... a cold-blooded, heartless idiot and a complete waste of protoplasm. You're living, breathing, unequivocal proof that monsters walk among us every damn day... on two feet, not four. As the Bible says, not one sparrow falls that God is not aware of and concerned with... I shudder to contemplate the fate that awaits alleged human beings who treat His creatures as you have. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| I've heard Senator McCain and Governor Palin busting off about Senator Barack Obama on a veritable plethora of assinine fronts, but Palin's latest belly-slashing remarks regarding the amount of money budgetted by the Obama campaign for advertising really takes the cake. Just last week, word surfaced that Alaska's First Lady is running around on her quest for the Vice Presidency regally attired in a $140,000.00 wardrobe, courtesy of Republican Party Presidential Campaign Funds contributed in large part by - you guessed it - American taxpayers. (Ever noticed that little "Check here if you'd like to contribute $1.00 to federal election campaign funds" box nestled at the bottom of your IRS Income Tax Return Form?) And we're not talking J.C. Penney's or Blair.com here, folks - not by a long shot. We're talking about phenomenally expensive duds purchased from some of the biggest, most "prestigous" and exclusive, most ridiculously overpriced big dawgs on the New York fashion and clothier fast track. Nuttin' but the best for Lady Sarah... who, ironically enough, had so earnestly tried to impart an air of "American every woman and Mom" just a week before by staging a well publicized "spur of the moment" stop at a Walmart for Pampers for her infant son. In an effort to achieve as much damage control as possible, McCain spokespuppets swiftly countered that Palin's ultra shiek wardrobe is an absolute necessity for her role in their campaign, that she wasn't even expected to use a large portion of the purchased goods, and that the entire kit and kaboodle will be donated to charities like Goodwill and The Salvation Army after the election concludes. Additionally, Elisabeth Hasselbeck and her ilk are jumping up and down, petulantly shrilling on and on about criticism of Palin's exhorbitant clothing budget amounting to nothing more than "discrimination" against Palin by virtue of her being a woman. Really, Lizzy? I've never heard you decry negative commentary regarding Hilary Clinton's pantsuits...  .It says volumes about their mindset, methinks, that McCanians would deem such assertions a plausible defense for frittering away tens of thousands of dollars on a Vice Presidential candidate's wardrobe. I'm certainly not knocking fashion - what I am repulsed by is that in a Presidential election as crucial to the future of this country as this one will surely prove to be, those running the invoved campaigns are more concerned with dazzling us with accoutrements and accessories than with integrity and substance. I've worked - and paid taxes - since I was 14 years old. I am still working at the age of 57. I drive a 1994 Ford Tempo and live in a $33,000.00 home with a leaking roof, a resultantly caved-in bedroom ceiling, and no working furnace/central air. And compared to a massive number of my fellow citizens... I am extremely well off. And Palin's people have the audacity to try to pass she and McCain off as Joe the Plumber's best friends? Oh puh-LEASE! How "in touch" with we working stiffs can anyone who spends $140,000.00 on three months' worth of clothing be? As for Palin badmouthing Obama's advertising budget... television and the internet have become America's - and the world's - lifeline when it comes to the distribution of information to the masses. And the purchase of time for such dispersals, in the case of television broadcasting, doesn't come cheap. You can't shop for a better bargain when it comes to television advertising; you certainly can when it comes to a decent, perfectly suitable wardrobe. Furthermore, McCain and Palin haven't exactly been strangers when it comes to their own television ad campaign efforts. You're wearing clothes that cost four time more than my home AND my car, Sarah - and you have exactly six more days to stop splattering muddy blowback all over them. |
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** N etherworld of tortured sleep, I nnerspace where torn souls weep... G hosts and demons loosed to haunt, H orror's face; demonic, gaunt. T errors hidden well by day... M arauders, though, by night; A sk in sleep to come and stay, R aping peace with blight. E ssence of the devil's will, surrender to sweet sleep; S lumber in the bowels of hell... and leave me to God's keep. |
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Evil incarnate to their kind gives rise, their nourishment found in blood-curdling fear; horror-swept dreamscapes they stalk in disguise, unleashing terror, they draw ever near. Defiled wombs in hell to their kind give birth to seek symbiosis with souls in need; in lost and rejected spirits on earth ~ on their very marrow, such monsters feed. Icy, their fingers and vacant, their stare, black are their hearts, sustained by putrid breath; sucking the lifeblood imperilled souls share to spew forth their spawn of hatred and death. But they may not linger where Faith abides... for Hope's children fear not their raging tides. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ For those of you who care enough to scare the very best...
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| Except for the absence of copious quantities of flop-sweat, the final Presidential Debate last evening proved extremely reminiscent of another held long ago between Presidential hopefuls Richard Milhouse Nixon and John Fitzgerald Kennedy. Senator McCain had obviously been coached to come out swinging and attempt to lure Senator Obama into a knock-down, drag-out, bare-knuckled slugfest. The strategy wilted on the vine - as did Senator McCain by debate's end. Though he charged out of the gate early on and managed to maintain a frenetic head of steam during the initial phase of the debate, it soon became quite evident that McCain was not debating, per se. Rather, he came across as a man resorting to slinging mud in an increasingly pathetic effort to set Obama up for a sucker punch takedown. Whether or not Obama has any glass jaw vulnerabilities became a mute issue; he proved too adept a statesman to lead with his face to begin with. Obama remained composed and offered frank, forthright responses that left McCain to shadow box himself into a frustrated and exhaustive state of political flux. Were that not sufficiently injurious unto itself, the elder statesman managed to fall into several self-excavated rabbit holes along the way. Perhaps the most glaring example of such a tumble was McCain's diatribe regarding pro-choice and Roe vs. Wade. His remarks and apparent disdain for how much consideration is given to the concept of the mother's health in these matters did not sit well with me, and I'm certain countless other women will express similar discontent utilizing the be-all, end-all currency of their votes. Then we have the issue of McCain's insinuations about Obama's long ago nebulous "relationship" with a known terrorist. Obama's insightful and honest response to these provocative accusations so neutralized McCain's first-strike attack stance that he was reduced to the now famous, spluttered comeback prefaced by the assertion, "we don't care about some washed up old terrorist..." And who could forget Toledo's elusive and apparently unspeakably economically beleaguered Joe the Plumber, who McCain apparently now considers a dear personal friend and all-encompassing representative of John Q. American Citizen? Apparently Joe wants to purchase the plumbing business he's worked for for many years now, and John-Boy means to see to it that Joe-Boy's economic and business aspirations are not wrenched from his grasp by the free enterprise-hating Obama and his minions. To that end, McCain kept robotically droning on - on some 49 or so occasions - about how Obama's Presidency would see Joe's business driven into the ground by taxing it mercilessly, inclusive of any healthcare benefits it might offer it staff. Ignoring Obama's repeated reply that his proposals would affect only sizeable corporations; the Senator from Arizona just kept swinging at air and blowing smoke. Basically, Mr. McCain, the American people are tired of politicians peeing on our shoes and telling us it's raining. And just so you know - Joe the plumber earns a helluva lot more per hour than the vast majority of middle class Americans do. So give it a rest, already - we all know that if Joe himself shook your hand next week, you wouldn't even recognize the poor schmuck. Last night, you couldn't even cough up his correctly pronounced surname, for Gawd's sake. If McCain gave all he's got last night, my vote is already cast. For in this particular dawn's early light, Obama is not wiping mud off his face - McCain is scraping doodey off his shoes. |
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Moose takes Lowrider and Peanut on a Halloween Hayride! More Halloween hijinx at Casa Kelly...
GAWD, I love the smell of roasted punkins in the morning!!! ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| I listened with great interest to the entire one hour and thirty-six minute Presidential Debate last night - and with even greater fascination to the political autopsy and associated commentary which inevitably follows. In the case of the former, my most significant complaint is Where's the BEEF?. In the case of the latter, I'm registering something between irk and fullscale ire on the Gimme a Break Scale regarding recurring assertions that Senator Obama agreed with Senator McCain far too often, citing Obama's multiple assertions that "Senator McCain is right." Political "experts" making this claim maintain that Obama "lost points", (and therefore, political gain) in the debate by agreeing with McCain in numerous instances. Say what? Since when has the collective American public so lost its grip on the concepts of logic, reasoning together, and functioning as a democratic society as to regard frankness and honesty in the political arena a vulnerability rather than a remarkable strength? To my stubborn Irish way of thinking... we'd better never. Political "spin" and flat out deceit, corruption, and bared-fanged partisan one-upmanship have infiltrated and poisoned our Government to the point of comatosed quagmire, the resulting ineffectuality leaving us spinning our wheels in a ditch of massive proportions. Few citizens would dispute this assertion, and far too many resultantly throw up their hands and throw in the towel. Will we allow even the Presidency of this country to become contigent upon who plays the political "game" the best - which candidate can undermine the other most effectively and with the greatest finesse? We cannot - and I pray to God will not - look upon the coming presidential election as we do some grand finale episode of Survivor, boys and girls. Our country is teetering on the brink of economic disaster... and the myriad of delterious, ripple-affect national security and global standing impacts that entails. At a time when massive nations and major peace agreements are de-stabilizing at an alarming rate, we are economically, defensively, and domestically hovering at two clicks short of empty. If Obama - or any other political representative who quite possibly may hold our very future in their hands - agrees with an opponent for political office, by all means, tell us so! If what you believe in is what you hold to be the truth and nothing but, tell us that, as well. Agreeing with one another across party lines should be no more a kiss of death for a politician's platform that disagreeing should be, providing both stem from honest and genuine convictions and beliefs. Nor is it, to my way of thinking, an indicator of weakness or vulnerability to come to believe differently when one has a sound, well-considered premise for doing so. Few would dispute the fact that government officials in this country are not collectively worthy of our continued vested trust. Most of us have come to regard politicians as at best, monumental scoundrels and at worst, power-intoxicated liars and thieves. But we'll be reaping what we've sown if we behave like sheep and vote in the very manner political "experts" can so handily predict. I don't care how well a presidential candidate can talk the talk; I wanna know if he/she can - and will - walk the walk. If achieving goals for the good of our nation requires bi-partisan co-operation (and in what instance can you think of wouldn't it?) then why should agreeing with a political opponent and having the guts to say so be considered a character flaw? Grow up, America... stop voting for the candidates who are best at whispering sweet nothings in your ear and start demanding honesty in their words and deeds. If an amputation is the only avenue for survival, which would you prefer... the doctor who smiles benificently and tells you "this won't hurt a bit" or the medico who explains it all honestly and prepares you for the good and bad to come? Often in life, the truth may be quite painful. Fleeing from or masking the pain, however, only buys a certain amount of time... and gives the underlying disease a chance to fester, grow, and perhaps prove fatal in the end. |
| " 9-11 " E ven as the day dawned bright, L eprous souls and dark E ntombed us in a murderous night, V iperous and stark. E vil pure, in vengeance steeped, N ecrotic, maliced brew ~ S inister in its deceit, E merging, born anew... P lunging hatred's saber deep through hearts of innocents; T rust purloined from our safe keep, each man's for the next. E mbers' glow in ashes black, impervious to tears... M ourners shaken by attack, B attered and in fear ~ E nduring, though our agony; R esolved, our nation's will ~ T hose who champion evil deeds W ill know the fires of hell. O nward will we carry high T he torch, still burning bright; H onor bound, prepared to die... O ur faith erodes their might. U nstoppable, unwavering, S hared in good men's hearts ~ A loud let freedom's mantra ring, N o foe curtail its spark. D eath was not the victor here as horror stalked this day, O n bended knee, our voices clear, God heard a nation pray. N e'r forgotten, wounds that yawn, yet in the healing, strength ~ E ven as new bright days dawn, triumphant over angst. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Take the "Support Our Troops" Challenge...
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| Miles and time lose meaning when hearts and souls embrace... I penned those words in my early twenties, an age when we humans, though most in that age group would vehemently deny it, are not yet cognitively mature enough to find our proverbial butts with both hands. But some three decades later, I must admit the words proved wholly truthful - even increasingly so - with the passage of time. And what greater Solomon presides over such matters than that of the test of time? I've heard more than few folks postulate that online friendships are inferior to like relationships in real time because we've only others' words to go by - and words are the chief means by which lies find transport. That is true, I admit, but lies are told in real time every bit as effectively as they are online - perhaps to an even greater and more devastating extent, methinks. Take for example, the plethora of examples evidenced by our political "leaders", skyrocketing divorce rates, and popular television shows like "Survivor", "Big Brother", and the lying-lover-packed, "Cheaters". For me, anyway, especially having made the aquaintance of the World Wide Web at the relatively advanced age of 47, relationships established here have proven every bit as meaningful, abiding, and fulfilling - in many instances, significantly moreso - as their counterparts in real time. I find them, on the whole, delightfully unfettered by the distractions of outward comeliness and or degrees of "buffness" (or perceived lacks thereof)... here we do not have our looks to hide behind. By necessity and especially over time, our online "personas" are distilled far more down to final, basic essences; we and those who take the time to get to know us prompted to work a bit harder at truly communicating as opposed to relying so heavily upon visual and/or tactile aids. For me, at least, it is often far easier to get to know others' real selves here. And that, in turn, emphasizes for me all the more the monumental unimportance of physical beauty and prowess - both of which are a toss of the dice - and even when richly possessed, may be taken from us in the blink of an eye by accident, illness, and/or the ravages of time. When you come to love and/or care very much about a fellow being's mind, heart, and soul, you've truly come to love and care. If you pause to reflect upon it, when time or illness or injury claims someone we love, all that lives eternally on is the heart, mind, and soul. They are our true and only essence... the rest is merely gift wrap. So here's to online friendships and love... for the virtual environment, perhaps more than any other, truly "opens our eyes" to who we and others really are. Come to think of it - virtual reality may more closely parallel life beyond earthly existence than any other experience known to earthbound souls. |
| I was just reading a dear friend's Blog, and noted with interest her thoughts on credit and recognition and how it is given or witheld here at WDC. She mentioned that numbers here used to hold meaning for her, but that those days are long gone. Call me a pessimist, but I arrived at that conclusion quite some time ago. Fortunately, the friendships I've forged herein and the priceless privilege others have extended me by sharing their thoughts, outlooks, and lives in general far outweigh the waist deep bullshit you often have to wade through within this enigma of a Virtual Realm, and I've opted to keep on keepin' on while cordially inviting all the anal orifices encountered along the way - regardless of their unearned, elevated "station" within this writing community - to take a long walk off a short pier. I'd say to my friend, though she'd be loathe to believe it, that the crap she cites emanates from sources most would be shocked to hear of - and rises to levels far more abhorent than just who gets what merit badge and who does not. And I'd say to her, as well, that the best way to cut their legs off and render them the neutered, would-be power-mongers they in all actuality are is to regard with genuine and abiding indifference their rudeness, ingratitude, monumentally haughty and consummately self-indulgent "mightier-and-exceedingly-more-important-than-thou" attitude. Write well, live even better... and never kiss the naked emporers' asses. A "zero" mark beside your handle in that category is the best "badge" of them all. Corruption born of power dies when the power does. Power dies when good people refuse to give it, along with their trust, over to those proving themselves completely undeserving of it. "Power corrupts and whole powers corrupts wholly." ... you tell 'em, Lord Byron! |
| Lordie ! I'm a smartass, even in my dreams! Last night, I dreamt that word was spreading like wildfire throughout the realm of Writing.com that Jack the StoryBaby would be uttering his very first words precisely at midnite! A throng of joyfully anticipatory WDC Citizens had gathered to witness the wondrous event, and as the house lights flashed and then dimmed in the WDC gymnasium/auditorium, a reverent hush fell over the standing-room-only crowd. Bathed in the glow of the spotlight focused upon his tiny form, StoryBaby bounced and babbled and cooed in his Swing and Sing Infant Seat, then paused and looked out over the crowd. As the awed throngs sat in rapt collective attentiveness, he spoke in a sweet, adorable baby voice, the stage mics carrying his words to every straining ear... |
| ...as is always the case once I spend a little recuperative time in my mini oasis at Casa Kelly... my private little world where no meanies may tread! The below are hardly noteworthy, photographically speaking... but I'm gettin' better at my digicam dalliances! (I had nowhere to go but up...) |
| Pet Peeves of the Week: Rude, thoughtless, consumately narcisistic people Egomaniacal power mongers who view the kindness/generosity of others as an entitlement Self-indulgent, egotistical phrauds, phakes, and phonies ~ and the assholes who can't stop kissing their rings Marauding hordes of fire ants (which, on their fiercest days, are preferable to encounters with the above) Closest man on earth to my personal Prince Charming: Tom Hanks. Everything about the guy amazes and impresses me beyond measure - particularly all of his marvellous characteristics, both personal and professional, none having a thing to do with looks. I'm in a mood - can you tell? *toddles off to garden, incessantly recite Desiderata, and re-attain nirvana...* |
| Miss Thang Deelyte wanted piccies, so here they are. Pardon the blurry second one... I'm brand new at this digital camera thing and I think the reason it's so blurry is that it was taken in low light and you have to hold the camera very still for an inordinate amount of time due to longer exposure... but it'll give you a general idea of the pond I built and have finally finished in the front yard. The first pic below is of the "Back Forty" garden. It may not look like much, but it's about 60 ft. by 40 ft.... all hand dug. And that doesn't count the front flower beds/gardens - another 80 feet by 40 feet broken into 6 beds. YIKES !!! More pics (hopefully better when taken in the light of day instead of just before susnset) to follow... ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
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