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| threshold |
| 06.22.05 (4:11 pm) [edit] |
It is easy to feel comfortable when the chair being sat upon feels fairly secure and there is much reason to think it will continue to be there for as long as needed. While my logical and even emotional self has understood the concept of 'unforeseen circumstances' and my heart has hurt deeply for those I have discovered as suffering due to misfortune, I have not as yet felt in my gut the closeness of such misfortune. In other words, I haven't come close enough to feel it so desperately that I can nod in silent understanding or look around in acknowledgement that I am living it.
I've spent years thinking of homeless and suffering people as 'them'... as if to say they were some other kind of being, living a separate or removed existence from my own. There isn't a single person alive in this moment who can't become such a being in the blink of an eye. I've made the mistake of thinking that an unfortunate or poor person became that way due to poor choices or bad decisions made on their part. As if, to somehow say, 'Your suffering is caused by your own hand and therefore, you are to be extended less compassion than others.' Selective compassion seems an impossible state in which to exist. It doesn't exist.
Now, I'm beginning to see, really see, that we all have thresholds. We all have a breaking point and most of us who have access to phones, tvs, computers, even chairs have never come anywhere near that threshold. Many think they have, when things go wrong, but deep down, they do not harbor that feeling that consumes them... spirals them into such a hopelessness that no matter what direction they look, there is no help, no light, no solution, that this is simply their life, the way it is, period. That is not to minimize the sincere tragedies and misfortunes we all endure as humans in varying ways and degrees. But more, we seem to have a tendency to make seem much worse the smaller misfortunes that knock us down, but don't keep us down.
We have the tendency to feel very much alone in the particular 'wrongs' that have come along, giving little thought to how many more of us have also experienced and continue to experience similar wrongs in the moment, and how very much a part of life these wrongs are... completely oblivious to the inevitable up that will come back around. Our separatist attitudes not only impact how we conduct ourselves in relationship to our responsibility to those around us, but also our responsibility to ourselves.
That said, that breaking point can come along and blind side us at any given moment. Those small wrongs can add up and feel like one big one that has the power to level us in one fell swoop. There is no right or wrong, or great or small when speaking of thresholds. The human spirit is a delicate thing and can be crushed with certainty if circumstances line up and present that which can not be handled by that particular spirit. For someone who has led a privileged life, that threshold may come in the form of what a poorer person experiences everyday.
I am feeling now the demise of two beloved cats within a few months of each other, in converging on a path of deception and heartbreak that has led me to a job with a gap between corporate America and Academia that may prove too wide to bridge… I’m questioning my threshold. My tendency is to make light of those smaller misfortunes that appear in my life… make light of… and yet bury them deep in my heart with the tenacity of a thousand fish hooks. This has turned out to be more than a bad day. Leaving these pages full of sunshine and roses is to paint a picture with only one color. I beg forgiveness to anyone who feels pain over my words in recognition or otherwise, whether in the moment, or moments past or just a glimmer of understanding in how I feel.
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| High standards |
| 05.19.05 (11:01 am) [edit] |
Those who hold themselves to extremely high standards can be extremely...
unforgiving.
I recognize this.
When there is little room for error in one's self, there is often less room for error in those around them.
Or so I am seeing.
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| missing the mist |
| 04.14.05 (6:28 am) [edit] |
There are times when I wish for the return of my fantasy. I wish for the heavy drapes of illusion to covet me in false safety and keep me hidden from all I wished to avoid. I think back to conversations and marvel at the differences they wear in the unmasking of identities and the revealing of truths and intentions.
Strangely, it isn't the traveller under the hood I long for a reunion with, but rather the facades that greeted me along the way. I miss my comrad in arms, a woman who shared a vision with me. Strangely, I now see that not only was she an illusion, but an imitation of someone supposedly long past. An illusion of a ghost... truly a unique spin. Though she doesn't exist, I miss our adventures together.
But mostly, I miss the woman I molded with every night. A woman who became my confidant, my platonic soul mate. Though she too was not real, she satisfied a need in me. And strangely, a need in 'her' too. Through her, a love carried on just a little longer then it normally would have. And through her, death was given wings. I miss what she was to me. I would have pretended forever.
The mist has strengthened my resolve to stay true and real to my reality. Though she doesn't exist to miss, I miss her most.
But alas, this too has passed.
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| Converging |
| 03.26.05 (2:43 pm) [edit] |
On this I converge.
There is nothing left to say. No explanation to be offered. No apology that can mend this. Pride rules the day. And I am thankful that I am no longer in its throes.
A man who does not know what he wants can take down everything in his path while getting to nowhere. I have held on, yielded, romantisized it, painted it pink and sung its praises. But after all...
There is nothing special about a passing fancy, a whim. A substitute... a filler... and I am none of these things. A man who chooses such at the expense of a heart is but a weak man. I do not respect weak. Nor do I want it. I am done with weak.
I am done with eloquence and elegance and grace... when it comes to this. Quite simply...
I am done with this.
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| For Eka the ferret... |
| 02.27.05 (7:55 am) [edit] |
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"Hello. This is me… ha ha… like ‘me…’ that really narrowed things down, didn’t it? Lindy, as in ‘lindy.tblog.com…’ ah… aka ‘SoMe,’ aka ‘SolacedSoon,’ aka… do you really want me to list all my blogs? Cuz that could take a while, since I have, what… too many… over 30 now… yikes, oh, that’s so scary…
So, I’m real… this is me… this is my voice, at least I’m trying to make you believe so… ah, what can I tell ya… I’m a passionate little thing, that’s for sure… ah, wouldn’t have it any other way… but ah, I’m not painting a prettier picture then what is before me in the mirror every morning… in fact, I’m pretty rare in the online world in that what you see here is what you get out there… that… didn’t sound good… ah, ummm… I don’t toy with peoples affections… I don’t make empty promises, hah! I don’t lie about who I am. I don’t try to pretend to be more or different from my reality, in fact, I conduct myself with the same set of rules here as I do out there. Fact is, I speak as I find and I like that so… peace."
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| Free Mojtaba and Arash Day |
| 02.22.05 (5:04 am) [edit] |
Free Arash Sigarchi and Mojtaba Saminejad
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| BLOGGERS IN JAIL! HELP!!!!!! |
| 02.21.05 (1:48 pm) [edit] |
BBC NEWS
Global blogger action day called
By Jo Twist
BBC News science and technology reporter
The global web blog community is being called into action to lend support to two imprisoned Iranian bloggers.
The month-old Committee to Protect Bloggers' is asking those with blogs to dedicate their sites on 22 February to the "Free Mojtaba and Arash Day".
Arash Sigarchi and Mojtaba Saminejad are both in prison in Iran.
Blogs are free sites through which people publish thoughts and opinions. Iranian authorities have been clamping down on prominent sites for some time.
"I hope this day will focus people," Curt Hopkins, director of the Committee, told the BBC News website.
If you have a blog, the least you could do is put nothing on that blog except 'Free Mojtaba and Arash Day'
Curt Hopkins, Committee to Protect Bloggers
The group has a list of actions which it says bloggers can take, including writing to local Iranian embassies.
The Committee has deemed Tuesday "Free Mojtaba and Arash Day" as part of its first campaign.
It is calling on the blogsphere - the name for the worldwide community of bloggers - to do what it can to help raise awareness of the plight of Mojtaba and Arash as well as other "cyber-dissidents".
"If you have a blog, the least you could do is put nothing on that blog except 'Free Mojtaba and Arash Day'," said Mr Hopkins.
"That would mean you could see that phrase 7.1 million times. That alone will shine some light on the situation.
"If you don't have one, find one dedicated to that - it takes about 30 seconds."
Technorati, a blog search engine, tracks about six million blogs and says that more than 12,000 are added daily.
A blog is created every 5.8 seconds, according to a US research think-tank.
'No man's land'
The Committee to Protect Bloggers was started by US blogger Curt Hopkins and counts fired flight attendant blogger Ellen Simonetti as a deputy director.
She has since started the International Bloggers' Bill of Rights, a global petition to protect bloggers at work.
Although not the only website committed to human rights issues by any means, it aims to be the hub or organisation, information and support for bloggers in particular and their rights to freedom of speech.
The Committee, although only a month old, aims to be the focal point for blogger action on similar issues in the future, and will operate as a non-for-profit organisation.
"Blogging is in this weird no man's land. People think of it as being one thing or another depending on their point of view," said Mr Hopkins.
"Some think of themselves as pundits, kind of like journalists, and some like me have a private blog which is just a publishing platform.
"But they do not have a constituency and are out there in the cold."
'Everyone doing it'
A spokesman for Amnesty International said: "Just as the internet is a tool for freedom, so it is being used as an excuse for repression.
"Amnesty International has recorded a growing number of cases of people detained or imprisoned for disseminating their beliefs or information through the internet, in countries such as China, Syria, Vietnam, the Maldives, Cuba, Iran and Zimbabwe.
"It is also shocking to realise that in the communications age just expressing support for an internet activist is enough to land people in jail."
It is not just human rights issues in countries which have a track record of restricting what is published in the media that is of concern to bloggers.
The question of bloggers and what rights they have to say what they want on their sites is a thorny one and has received much press attention recently.
High profile cases in which employees have been sacked for what they have said on their personal, and often anonymous blogs, have highlighted the muddy situation that the blogsphere is currently in.
Everyone does this - mums, radicals, conservatives
Curt Hopkins, Committee to Protect Bloggers
"This is a big messy argument," explained Mr Hopkins.
He added: "It is just such a new way of doing business, there will be clamp downs."
But the way these issues get tested is through the courts which, said Mr Hopkins, "is part of the whole messy conversation."
"If you haven't already got bloggers in your company, you will have them tomorrow - and if you don't have a blogger policy now you had better start looking at having one.
Mr Hopkins said that the blogsphere - which is doubling every five months - was powerful because it takes so little time and expertise to create a blog.
"Everyone does this - mums, radicals, conservatives," he said.
Many companies offer easy-to-use services to create a blog and publish it in minutes to a global community.
"That is the essential difference. What I call 'templating software' gives every single person on Earth the chance to have one.
"You don't even have to have your own computer."
Story from BBC NEWS:
[link]
Published: 2005/02/21 16:14:59 GMT
© BBC MMV
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| an update from Unicef... |
| 02.09.05 (12:09 pm) [edit] |
When you donate through Unicef, this is where your money goes, so please continue to give what you can...
don't let time distance your heart from the suffering these people are enduring...
we're helping, but could always do more... please click on the link to the right to make a contribution today...
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'Your Support Makes a Difference for Tsunami Survivors
In Banda Aceh, Indonesia, the area hardest-hit by the tsunamis, I met UNICEF relief worker Anton Susanto, with Iqbal, a local boy who was separated from his family in the disaster. While UNICEF worked to locate Iqbal's relatives — who have not yet been found — Anton took the frightened boy under his wing. Anton's warmth helped Iqbal feel safer and more secure. I'll keep you posted on the youngster's progress toward resuming an ordinary childhood.
Your generous support during the tsunami crisis has already made a difference for children and families across South Asia. On behalf of UNICEF, I'm writing to express my deepest gratitude. I'm especially thankful because I saw your donation dollars at work during a recent 10-day trip to the region.
Despite the terrible human toll of this disaster, I saw hope in the faces of the children I visited, and true heroism in the tireless work of UNICEF's field staff. Small miracles are happening in battered coastal cities and villages throughout the tsunami zone, every hour of every day. And without you, they wouldn't have been possible.
Rapid Response
UNICEF colleagues I met in the field repeatedly expressed their sincere thanks for your extraordinary, rapid response to the tsunami crisis.
By New Year's Eve, just four days after the tsunamis struck, we had received more than $10 million in contributions through our website. That day, we were able to send $6 million to UNICEF field operations in the hardest-hit areas.
As of today, we have sent $61 million to save children's lives in South Asia, with more help on the way. And I am proud that 95 cents of every one of those dollars will be used to help kids in desperate need.
What UNICEF Is Doing
Child survival: For more than 1 million children who have survived the tsunami disaster, the key is to keep them alive and healthy.
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UNICEF is providing safe drinking water, building adequate sanitary facilities in displaced persons' camps and schools, distributing basic hygiene kits and educating families on hygiene and sanitation to prevent waterborne infections.
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UNICEF is organizing immunization campaigns against deadly childhood diseases in the affected countries, and providing doses of vitamin A to boost children's weakened immune systems.
Family reunification and child protection: Thousands of children were separated from their families during the tsunamis, leaving them vulnerable and afraid.
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UNICEF has established centers to register children separated from their families, and is working with partners to trace missing parents or relatives.
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UNICEF is training teachers and counselors to support children who are psychologically distressed.
Returning children to school: Over 1,000 schools were damaged or destroyed by the tsunamis, suddenly leaving children without an important, reassuring daily routine.
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Immediately after the disaster, UNICEF began setting up temporary spaces for children to learn.
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UNICEF has distributed thousands of "School-in-a-Box" kits containing basic educational materials for use in makeshift classrooms and in schools that have reopened across the region.
Thank You!
UNICEF's field offices have very nearly completed the immediate survival stage of the tsunami disaster response and are now turning to longer-term recovery efforts — thanks in large part to your invaluable assistance.
Thank you for your caring and commitment in this difficult time.
Sincerely,
Charles J. Lyons
President, U.S. Fund for UNICEF'
Unicef: http://unicef.org
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| the dance goes on |
| 02.03.05 (8:00 am) [edit] |
A person so consumed ought not to be able to run loose in a marriage, in a relationship. That picture of tranquility, the face of calm only stays that way as long as it knows it still wins. For when it is losing, it contorts with rage and ugliness that it would just assume hide from the world. When it is losing, it pulls out all aces and plays them for all they are worth. And when it is losing, you are the devil incarnate.
But when it has triumphed over you yet again, the calm returns. The smooth face is in place and it can afford to be benevolent to you. as if breathing becomes easy for the time being. a temporary reprieve until the next battle. Out come the well wishes, the thoughts of wonderment, the compliments, because it has you again. out come the amused observations of resentment from others as if they were from a foreign planet so removed from who this person is, who you are, as if it is baffeling and unprovoked, completely unrelated to the atrocious behavior now being smoothly hidden under the folds of a thick robe...
and you are welcome to it. perhaps you belong together, perhaps, though you admit this is not worthy of your love. you can continue this dance, flitting closer, barely touching just enough to know you are each still there, paying little mind to the grief and destruction in your wake.
yes, the picture being painted now is smooth and serene. but the ripples in your absence, the ugliness in the fight, I shall not easily forget. nor will you, I am sure. the question is, how long will you dance with this and how many more souls will be wracked with grief for as long as you continue to allow it...
and I find myself wondering if you still sneak there to spend time in it. You are the only one with that answer. and I am the only one who can find peace in me without you. I am the one who knows just how worthy I am of being loved by someone wonderful who can come to me
wholly...
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| socks... |
| 01.29.05 (5:09 am) [edit] |
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socks are very symbolic in my life. for many people, they are a necessity that gets little notice each morning when they are donned, aside from the obvious 'are they the same and do they match what I am wearing'. I have come to know a fondness for my socks... a fondness, not an attachment... I am not a shopper by nature, not because I don't enjoy occasionally acquiri ng possessions that bring me joy, but because I have never been able to come to think of it as a passtime.
in the last year or so, it occured to me that it was okay to buy new socks. I would open my drawer and see the same socks that I was wearing in high school, yes, fifteen years later, with holes and worn spots and off color mates... there they were, the socks that were bought before I was in charge of acquiring my own clothing, the socks that just 'appeared' at some point when my feet had become noticably, emarrassingly too long for the child size socks I'd had before. I wasn't fond of these old socks, but I didnt' realize it until I was speaking to someone else and I saw that he was wearing lovely, bright white socks that day. I complimented him on them and he found this extraordinary. It led to a conversation that made me aware that my thinking wasn't quite right, that there was something out there I had not yet considered, I had not the sight to see...
it's okay to throw away old socks. it's okay to get new socks as often as I please. apparently it's 'normal'. I left that conversation and headed to a store. I bought four or five multi-packs of socks, varying colors, well... black, white and grey... the colors I like. And I brought them home, opened my drawer and threw away my old socks. for a moment, I was throwing away my mother. the reasons I had hung on to them all these years came to the surface in an uncomfortable moment. away went the old socks and in came the new. I looked upon my sock drawer with a sense of pride and felt a wave of empowerment wash over me.
I'm wearing new socks today.
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| tblog against drug blogs... |
| 01.26.05 (10:19 pm) [edit] |
If you'd like to make a difference in this community, there is something you can do about the drug pushing blogs of late... when you spot a username that is pushing meds, or a recent blog in the lower left corner of the admin screen in tblog... just tmail the user name to rocky http://rocky.tblog.com and he will confirm the blog is pushing meds and he will shut that blog down. It's as simple as that. The more of us doing this, the quicker these guys will get the message that they are no longer welcome here... if you see one, report them!
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| Goodbye |
| 01.16.05 (5:41 pm) [edit] |
I opened the door and my heart contracted involuntarily. He was laying curled up in a ball with his little eyes closed. Still in th eposition he had been in when he went to sleep never to wake up. He was frozen. I closed the door. He had been in a freezer for several days, waiting for me to come back and sign the final bill. I was avoiding it like the plague. I didn't want to go back. But when I heard he was still there, I knew I had to see him. There were some things I needed to say to him. I stroked his head, just behind his ear... his favorite spot. The image of him craning his head toward my fingrs brought my tears. It was a floodgate of racking sobs as I leaned over him, trying so hard to hold him close to me, to warm him up. He was so cold. I kept trying to warm him up. I kept hoping for him to come back to life in my arms, as if my warmth could start his heart again.
I picked him up and held him like I did so many times. He looked just the same. I don't know what I was expecting, but I didn't expect this. He was still... him. The crying and rocking and holding him in my arms lasted for about an hour and a half before I became aware of my surroundings again. And this was the part I was not strong enough for. Leaving him there. I walked toward the door six times, each time turning around and deciding it wasn't time yet. I didn't want him taken away from me, I didn't want him to burn. To reduce him to ashes, I would have nothing left. I wanted to take him with me and put him under the earth in a tiny spot I could visit and spend time with him. But I don't have a yard anymore. I grew desparate. I got a pair of scissors and clipped a patch of hair from his lovely full tale. It wasn't enough. I clepped his whiskers, every single one of them and placed them with the hair. It wasn't enough. Then I did something I am still in shock over. I clipped his ear, the only thing not frozen on his body. I was distraught over this the moment I had done it. What was I doing? I was gathering as much of him as I could to bury in my tiny flower bed just outside my window where I sleep. I ran my fingers over his paw and wondered how hard it would be to bring that too. That's when I came out of it and realized I was losing it. I hardened myself to the idea that he was no longer in his body. I pulled out several strands of my hair and wound them around his paw and gently tucked him back under the towel. I apologized to him for not being able to save him, told him I loved him and always will. I forced myself through the door and found out from the staff that he would be there until Tuesday morning. Secretly, I was trying to figure out how to get him back before he was sent to the crematorium.
I had no business driving that night. It was 4:30am and I wasn't focusing on anything in particular as I wandered down the highway toward home. He is still there, still curled up in his frozen little ball. And I am still here wishing I could save him from the burning. I am not going to try to stop it. Moriarty isn't there in that body anymore. He is here with me in my heart. His big soft loving warm self is still here, purring and rubbing on me. He is still gently stepping on to my bed for the first time and savoring the feel of its comfort under him.
Recognition of familiarity gives birth to sorrow and grief. A memory, a touch, a look, a moment as it unfolds in my mind brings the pain of knowing there won't be anymore.
No wonder we search for replacements.
A friend from high school called me and we spoke about Moriarty. He offered to bring a new cat to me in that moment. I knew that a new cat would bring love into my heart, but there is no replacing Moriarty. A new cat will not change that Moriarty walked among my world and touched my heart.
I spoke to my sister and told her of what I had done. When I told her about the pieces of Moriarty I took with me, she flipped out and told me I was exhibiting behavior common to a serial killer and told me I was not healthy in my handling of this. I felt like hiding. I felt like crying because of how weird I felt. I felt like a monster, like there was something very wrong with me.
Another friend called me and we spoke at length about my grief. He took me in hand and helped me to see the beatings I had administered to myself, the guilt I was trapped under. Because of our commonality, he was able to get through to me. After a few hours, he helped me find my smile, though still rather wan.
On Tuesday morning, when Moriarty's little body is being cremated, I will be here in my tiny back patio, laying to rest the small pieces of him I have with me. They will lay in a small wooden box in an unmarked corner just outside my window and I will spend time with him in my heart. My sweet Moriarty. I love you.
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| good with the bad |
| 01.12.05 (9:29 am) [edit] |
This is unbelievable. I'm being paid to create websites. This feels like a dream. I'm learning and creating at the same time. Amazing.
It is a bright spot compared to some very dark ones.
My beloved cat is dead. My big baby boy. He's dead and I can't stop the pain. I don't think I will ever be able to let go of something I love without feeling it rip through me.
I couldn't save him. I tried. I tried so hard but it wasn't enough. He's dead. A part of me is too. Why does everything I love leave me?
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| into thin air |
| 12.16.04 (2:24 pm) [edit] |
I have watched sadly as my beloved website gathers dust. I have pleaded with the administrator of my site to either help me get it up and running or to let me in so I can do it myself. Neither have met with success.
I love my beautiful gift and I hope it will always remain mine. I still hope to finish it. Perhaps with healing it will happen. Perhaps in time.
Since my beloved showed me the sites he has had a hand in creating, I have been enthralled with web design. I love to create and here was an undiscovered canvas. So I went to angelfire.com and registered a free domain. I taught myself Front Page and managed to create a website in about ten hours. Not bad considering I had never laid eyes on any of it before that.
This free website turned out a bit rough, but rather pretty. I chose a black background with striking Iranian photographs as accents. But the words... there is where the heart of this site lies. With my pain so fresh, my wounds so new, what I wrote there was truly gut wrenching. I still shudder when I think of it. Pages and pages of pain and grief. I am still shivering...
I bought a domain a few days ago. It is mine. Though I am lacking the know-how, I have the talent to make this site beautiful. I wish I had been able to blossom under my beloved's tutelage. It will never be as perfect as what he creates, nor what my administrator has made of my gifted site, but it is turning out nicely. I am proud of it. Soon I shall be in possession of photoshop and yet another world will open up to me.
Which brings me to the last point. I shan't be needing tblog much anymore. I'll be around. This isn't some grand exit like we see so often on tblurt. Heh, nobody really knows I am here. tblog has been good to me. Here I have found my beloved, my best friend and several people I am honored to have in my life. tblog has helped me come face-to-face with my fears and addictions. One job and one beloved later... I have conquered those addictions. I am simply wishing for a place to write. A place all my own. And I have it.
I shall check my blogs (all of them) for messages from friends. and I shall continue to read the precious few blogs I have come to love. I may even come and write here occasionally.
**and with a quiet bow, she disappears just like that.
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